Last week I popped onto Amazon for something banal like cuticle scissors when my scroll was broken: an advertisement for “Viral leggings from TikTok” proved the algorithm finally caught on to my belfies, and before I knew it, I was knee deep in 15-second videos of girls fake-surprising their boyfriends in textured spandex. You’re telling me my nice butt could look nicer for the low cost of $25? Your girl got got.
The shock on Andrew’s face alone was enough to make me want to shave my head, change my name, and move to Bolivia. But when he said it was “the most unexpectedly basic thing I’d ever done,” there was no turning back. I had to own my pathetic decision.
I regret to inform you that they were worth every penny. Naturally I prayed for disappointment so I could return them and scoff at internet trends. But the thick waistband, honeycomb pattern, and external thong design really work; my body looks tightly contoured and my butt renewed. You’d never guess there’s a ruthless layer of sag and cellulite beneath. Gravity is unforgiving.
My list of male gaze-driven fashion choices dates back to freshman year of high school. I didn’t know I had a nice butt until I went up to the board in French II and an attractive sophomore guy whispered it to my friend’s brother, who then told me. My face went flush with this new information. Me and my unibrow and crooked teeth had something powerful forming below. And so long as I continued down the path of least resistance (literally never moving my body outside cheerleading practice and eating a strict diet of beige food), this power would only expand. So on went the yoga pants and the leggings before people even wore them as pants and the tiny shorts rolled three times. By sophomore year, I couldn’t walk to my locker without an older guy shouting “thickness!” at max volume—a nickname so inescapable it lives forever under my listing in the senior yearbook.
Part of me still craves that meaningless, objectifying attention. I’m learning that at my age (30 in four months) and in my situation (a loving, monogamous relationship), that’s an awkward admission and an even weirder pursuit. It implies some crack in my self-esteem or unchecked daddy issues or my partner not complimenting me enough but really I just wish we’d normalize wanting to feel hot, even in corny, embarrassing, often desperate ways.
Sure, I may be “too old” to indulge certain trends, but this is the first time in my life I could even afford to. Buying the viral TikTok leggings taught me the privilege of spontaneity. I hit “add to cart” on impulse. And I sent a pair to my friend who made fun of me for buying them. It feels damn good to be able to do that, even if my butt has new dimples every day. Luckily the leggings hide that.