My gluteus maximus research.

 Photo courtesy Pixabay. Photo courtesy Pixabay.

After close to a year of weekly blogging, I can say that I’ve learned some interesting things. Like when I researched different names for the gluteus maximus, sometimes called the gluteal muscles, or glutes, for short. According to, Wikipedia , the fleshy mass of these musclesin a quadrilateral shape, forms the prominence of the buttocks.”

In case you’re still on your first cup of coffee, I’m talking about the butt.

I researched this topic as a legitimate inquiry for a personal essay. I didn’t post the humorous essay to my blog at the time because I was too embarrassed, but it was accepted in a chronic illness publication. Those readers are used to the TMI, and hopefully appreciate a slightly warped sense of humor. Humor is especially welcome when one’s gluteus maximus and associated body parts are not pulling their weight.

As with all submissions to publications, the editors made some changes to my essay. Maybe I was a little too ballsy in my original draft, but I preferred my version to the edited one. And now, after more months of an uncooperative gluteus maximus and the associated undignified medical procedures, my prudishness has been whittled away. It’s gone from the level of a blue-haired Victorian spinster granny to that of a blue-haired Victorian spinster granny with a bold streak. To confirm my evolution, I’ve posted my original essay to my website, hidden not too deeply within a secret tab, but since you’re special, you can read it here.

In case you “don’t go there” literally and figuratively, here’s a limerick I wrote as part of the essay:

Inside my butt is my bowel.
That word is not really so foul.
It could be much worse.
I would have to curse,
Had my given name been Colin Powell.

I’m no Ogden Nash, but I had fun writing that silly limerick. So I’ve taken my gluteus maximus research and put it to good use, giving myself a good laugh in the process. Here’s my result:

My keister’s a thorn in my side.
There’s nothing that I haven’t tried.
To make it work well,
And, (in a nutshell)
Allow me to stay dignified.


It feels like a stick up my ass.
Said the woman, her words very crass.
It can’t last forever,
There must be some clever
Solution to get it to pass.


You say that’s going up my wazoo?
And then you’ll put WHAT up there, too?
I’ll warn you up front
And let me be blunt
It’s nothing I’ll take kindly to.


If you got through those limericks without your writing or personal sensibilities being offended, thanks for indulging me. I’ve found that the more I laugh at my most embarrassing moments in life, the less embarrassing they become. And I strongly believe that laugher is one of the best medicines. It may not heal my gluteus maximus in discernible ways, butt, if it lifts my spirits, that’s healing of another kind.

THE END

What about you? Are you a poet? Can you create a rhyme? There’s lots more names for the gluteus maximus that I didn’t cover here. I’d love to hear your (R-rated or better) ideas. If you don’t know how to write a limerick, here’s a link

10 thoughts on “My gluteus maximus research.”

  1. Challenge accepted – limericks at ten paces.

    You ask where that awful smell’s from,
    The one that you say makes you numb.
    I’m loath to admit,
    The truth is that it,
    Has wafted its way from my bum.

    My doctors advice was so bitter,
    Said he “You must get yourself fitter.
    You’ll look better then,
    Attractive to men,
    Please lose twenty pounds from your sitter”.

  2. Thanks for your encouragement. As the camel now has his nose in the tent here come some more butt Limericks plus one kicker. (There’s a Mideast saying "If the camel once gets his nose in the tent, his body will soon follow", similar to "Give him and inch, he’ll take a mile".)

    Your blog makes abundantly clear,
    Genteel English rules are so queer.
    “Your dog bit my ass”,
    Is thought to be crass,
    Not so for “Your dog bit my rear”.

    This body parts name list is vast,
    Though some leave genteel folk aghast.
    This backsided hump,
    Can safely be called “rump”,
    and also “the part that comes last”.

    When midnight at New Years Eve came,
    He’s next to the doll with no name.
    He pinched her keister,
    Woke up next Easter.
    Turned out she’s the worlds strongest dame.

    Said a man who would get a great kick,
    From composing a clever Limerick,
    “Tis innocent fun,
    Like making a pun”.
    But his verse made most folk a bit sick.

  3. Oh, no, I’ve created a monster, I fear.
    Although the monster, to me, is quite dear.
    He won’t let it go,
    And this much I know,
    It may last the rest of the year.

  4. Enough! That’s it! This jousting’s done.
    One more genteel word, yes just one.
    I sheath my pen,
    Wish peace to men.
    This word is the plural of bun.

Leave a Reply