As a kid, I really enjoyed playing games that heavily relied on running.
I liked playing regular tag, freeze tag, red-rover (I think that's what it was called. Since I grew up Mexican, surrounded by nothing but Spanish, the actual pronunciation of this game--and many others-- may be a little off), kickball, dodgeball, baseball... I even played this game called "El Cinto" (aka "The Belt" where one of the players was in charge of hiding a belt. Once he/she was done, it was his/her job to guide the rest of us toward the belt by playing "hot or cold." Once one of us found the belt, he/she would run after the other kids, smacking them with the belt until everyone reached "home base." I last played that game three years ago.. that's how much I love that style of mean-ass, violent game-- not to be mistaken as an enjoyment in running... 'cause now as an adult, that's probably my most hated activity. YOU try running with double Ds).
I had a rough time with tag/freeze tag each time it was a boy's turn to be "it." Why? Because the fucking asshole would chase me on purpose just so he could see my ass bounce (as long as it wasn't my brother. He'd never chase me, for obvious reasons). I wasn't aware of this, I'd just run my heart out and think "FUCK! I"M FAST! This bitch can't get me!" However, I finally realized the perverted intentions of the boys once a new boy joined our game of tag one day. I was about ten when this went down. The new boy was nine.
Rafa: Damn it, Nick! Tag her already!
(Nick's still chasing me. I'm running behind cars and all that dangerous shit that should have gotten me killed)
Me: HAHAHAHA! Yeah, Nick, TAG ME!
Rafa: QUIT RUNNING AND JUST LET HIM TAG YOU, FAG! This shit is boring!
Me: NO! Why don't YOU let him tag YOU!
At this point, Rafa started running after me, and when he managed to get in front of me, he pushed me into Nick... ultimately making me get tagged "it."
Instead of running after someone to tag them, I bent over to catch my breath. So did Nick and Rafa.
Nick: Damn... all I could see... was AnoMALIE's... butt bouncing... left, right... left and right. It was... I was hypnotized.
Me: ?!?!!? WHAAAAT?! YOU FUCKING PERVERT!
Nick said the last part of his sentence while moving his hands left and right. I grabbed him with one hand, and punched him with the other.
Boy2: You just... have to try to ignore it...
Left-Right hand movement.
Me: Fuck you guys!
Everyone laughed at me... those jerks.
I wouldn't call my ass "spectacular" or anything like that. Yeah, it's there... and it's not inverted like some chicks I know... but... it's not an onion like those on other chicks.
Back in the day, I did have an unusually perky butt for a kid... someone would always be pinching or smacking it during my early years. There's even a video out there where my older cousin and her husband are commenting on the awesomeness of my ass (I had a HUGE crush on her husband. I was 7, he was 27. Needless to say, I was mortified when I heard the conversation years later).
As the years passed, people started noticing other girls with wayyy better asses, and they finally started to respect my backside and leave it alone... with the exception of the occasional cock-graze at night clubs and metros.
But not today.
I was putting away my weights when an onslaught of human traffic walked my way.
I don't know if this was intentional, or a case of mistaken identity... but as I was bent over, minding my own business and picking up the lighter weights, a dude punked me... sort of.
It wasn't a graze... oh no. Not at all.
I felt when the guy walked directly behind me, so I tried to pick up my pace to get all the weights.
But it was too late.
He... he thrusted... in an "I know this ass, so it's ok" kind of way.
I claim to be so hardcore and "I'll beat your motherfucking ass!" but honest to God, I was scared and confused.
Whoa... What. The. FUCK.
I stood up immediately... and looked over my shoulder. My face was burning hot, I'm sure I was blushing beyond... any shade I've ever reached.
I'm also sure he saw the fear and confusion in my face, so he apologized-- repeatedly-- saying he thought I was a friend of his.
Me: ...O... k...
I walked away with my ba-gillion weights and tried my hardest to appear calm and collected.
I almost ran to my car.
And that was that.
Yeah.
Needless to say, I'm now going to take the "elevator" approach to bending down... as in, I'm going to descend by lowering my entire body... cocktail-waitress-style, whenever I have to reach something off the floor.
Or just act like a paranoid ex-prison inmate who got ass raped after dropping the soap.
I knew I should have paid more attention while watching "American Me."
I liked playing regular tag, freeze tag, red-rover (I think that's what it was called. Since I grew up Mexican, surrounded by nothing but Spanish, the actual pronunciation of this game--and many others-- may be a little off), kickball, dodgeball, baseball... I even played this game called "El Cinto" (aka "The Belt" where one of the players was in charge of hiding a belt. Once he/she was done, it was his/her job to guide the rest of us toward the belt by playing "hot or cold." Once one of us found the belt, he/she would run after the other kids, smacking them with the belt until everyone reached "home base." I last played that game three years ago.. that's how much I love that style of mean-ass, violent game-- not to be mistaken as an enjoyment in running... 'cause now as an adult, that's probably my most hated activity. YOU try running with double Ds).
I had a rough time with tag/freeze tag each time it was a boy's turn to be "it." Why? Because the fucking asshole would chase me on purpose just so he could see my ass bounce (as long as it wasn't my brother. He'd never chase me, for obvious reasons). I wasn't aware of this, I'd just run my heart out and think "FUCK! I"M FAST! This bitch can't get me!" However, I finally realized the perverted intentions of the boys once a new boy joined our game of tag one day. I was about ten when this went down. The new boy was nine.
Rafa: Damn it, Nick! Tag her already!
(Nick's still chasing me. I'm running behind cars and all that dangerous shit that should have gotten me killed)
Me: HAHAHAHA! Yeah, Nick, TAG ME!
Rafa: QUIT RUNNING AND JUST LET HIM TAG YOU, FAG! This shit is boring!
Me: NO! Why don't YOU let him tag YOU!
At this point, Rafa started running after me, and when he managed to get in front of me, he pushed me into Nick... ultimately making me get tagged "it."
Instead of running after someone to tag them, I bent over to catch my breath. So did Nick and Rafa.
Nick: Damn... all I could see... was AnoMALIE's... butt bouncing... left, right... left and right. It was... I was hypnotized.
Me: ?!?!!? WHAAAAT?! YOU FUCKING PERVERT!
Nick said the last part of his sentence while moving his hands left and right. I grabbed him with one hand, and punched him with the other.
Boy2: You just... have to try to ignore it...
Left-Right hand movement.
Me: Fuck you guys!
Everyone laughed at me... those jerks.
I wouldn't call my ass "spectacular" or anything like that. Yeah, it's there... and it's not inverted like some chicks I know... but... it's not an onion like those on other chicks.
Back in the day, I did have an unusually perky butt for a kid... someone would always be pinching or smacking it during my early years. There's even a video out there where my older cousin and her husband are commenting on the awesomeness of my ass (I had a HUGE crush on her husband. I was 7, he was 27. Needless to say, I was mortified when I heard the conversation years later).
As the years passed, people started noticing other girls with wayyy better asses, and they finally started to respect my backside and leave it alone... with the exception of the occasional cock-graze at night clubs and metros.
But not today.
I was putting away my weights when an onslaught of human traffic walked my way.
I don't know if this was intentional, or a case of mistaken identity... but as I was bent over, minding my own business and picking up the lighter weights, a dude punked me... sort of.
It wasn't a graze... oh no. Not at all.
I felt when the guy walked directly behind me, so I tried to pick up my pace to get all the weights.
But it was too late.
He... he thrusted... in an "I know this ass, so it's ok" kind of way.
I claim to be so hardcore and "I'll beat your motherfucking ass!" but honest to God, I was scared and confused.
Whoa... What. The. FUCK.
I stood up immediately... and looked over my shoulder. My face was burning hot, I'm sure I was blushing beyond... any shade I've ever reached.
I'm also sure he saw the fear and confusion in my face, so he apologized-- repeatedly-- saying he thought I was a friend of his.
Me: ...O... k...
I walked away with my ba-gillion weights and tried my hardest to appear calm and collected.
I almost ran to my car.
And that was that.
Yeah.
Needless to say, I'm now going to take the "elevator" approach to bending down... as in, I'm going to descend by lowering my entire body... cocktail-waitress-style, whenever I have to reach something off the floor.
Or just act like a paranoid ex-prison inmate who got ass raped after dropping the soap.
I knew I should have paid more attention while watching "American Me."
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