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Why I'm Afraid of My Ass - placeholderWhy I'm Afraid of My Ass
4 min read | Jun 2021

Why I'm Afraid of My Ass

Some childhood trauma and discomfort with my body has led to a complicated relationship with kinkier sex. 

e / Millennial / Socialist / Culture Worker

I've been told that the prostate is like the male clitoris, the most sensitive, explosive trigger to activate the male orgasm. I want to know this feeling so bad, and now that I have a partner willing to experiment with me, I can. The thing is, I'm terribly afraid of my ass. It's always been something that my shit comes out of, not something anyone's shit goes into.  

I can't remember ever not being afraid and ashamed of my butt. When I was little and I had a dirty diaper, I'd hide behind the couch so my parents wouldn't find me. I felt bad having this stinky backside—it was embarrassing. There was also something about the smell that I was drawn to. It was this kinky perversion. I liked the smell of my own stink, as I believe many of us do, but I was so afraid of touching or interacting with my poop. While I dug my own stench, I was also afraid of being found out that a) I smelled so bad and b) I was into it.  

As I got toilet trained, it was uncomfortable asking my parents to help me wipe my ass. It was humiliating to get on all fours or lift a cheek so my folks could clean me up. Then when I started going to school I just shut it off. Somehow my body knew not to poop at school. I was deathly afraid of being found out, not only that I defecated but that it smelled so bad. I think another factor was that much of my childhood was spent constipated, I never had a quick poop. This meant that if I was going to poop at school, everyone would know I was pooping cause I'd be out of class for so long—the ultimate embarrassment as a second- or fifth- or even seventh-grader.

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My Butt Trauma Was Tethered to Body Shame

Somewhere along that timeline, in elementary school, I went apple picking with my family. My brother and I enjoyed the hayrides and gathered as many apples as we could. We even went into the farm shop where they were selling sweet cinnamon apple donuts. I remember an awful feeling washed over me in the shop. I had to go. Really bad. I told my father who rushed me to the port-a-potty, but just as I was pulling down my pants it all came out everywhere. I completely exploded before I could get to the seat, shit-stained the walls, my legs, pants, shoes, socks. It was a war zone. I remember my parents finding a hose to wash me down and wrapping me in a cloth they had in the car, tossing most of my clothes in the trash and doing what they could to clean up my mess before we drove home. I felt the rough cloth cover my naked body, withered and cold in the back seat, overwhelmed with guilt and shame. 

That event was the pinnacle of my poop trauma and solidified a deep divide between me and my asshole. I didn't want to have anything to do with it from that point on. I had been betrayed. I did eventually get over my fear of shitting at school, but I could only do it in a private bathroom and would stake out which high school bathrooms were most secretive where I could take my time pooping in peace. If anyone ever knocked, or I was in a pressure situation and didn't have time to relax into it, I'd just hold it and feel uncomfortable.  

I know a lot of my shame around my butt was also tethered to uncomfortable feelings about my body in general. I always felt a bit big in my body, and sometimes I'd hear other kids call me chubby. I'd hide in my clothes, afraid to ever be in a situation where I'd have to take off my shirt, always sucking in my gut when I did. I never considered myself to be attractive and often found myself eating and snacking without thinking about it, ending up full most of the time. I was incredibly privileged to always have more than enough to eat, but I didn't know how to stop when I was full. I was disconnected from my body and turned to food for comfort and love.

It has taken me years of therapy and embodiment practices to begin to build a relationship with my body and feel good in my skin. I've gone through a lot of changes physically and have become generally comfortable with who I am as I take care of myself in the ways that feel right for me.

My ass feels like the final frontier.

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I Want to Experience New Sexual and Sensual Heights

A friend recently told me about his experience with a partner who did anal play and it elevated him to another planet. I was envious of his experience; I want to have that kind of sex, to know what it feels like to reach new sensual heights. I also have a partner who has offered, on multiple occasions, to put her finger in my butt, and we've gotten really, really close. I've started building a comfort level with my asshole in the bath, feeling around and seeing if I can get a finger inside when I'm clean. But a huge worry is my partner putting her finger in my butt and it coming out brown.  

I know I’m on the precipice of something special and am challenging myself in new ways. These days feel like everything is all about finding comfort within discomfort. Even if I don’t get to the ecstasy of anal play that I know exists, I am happy to finally be “loosening up” and discovering my whole body as a thing of majesty, beauty and constant change.

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