But, when I started working from home, I realised that all the chatter around heartache was a pile of bullshit filled in my head and the real insufferable, ununderstandable pain was actually butt ache.
As a hopeless romantic I have suffered both the pains and I’m definitely not kidding when I say that butt aches have literally got nothing on heartaches.
Raise your hand if working from home and converting your bed into your office desk has really ‘bum-ed’ out your poor butts.
If you have experienced this, then you understand the kind of pain I’m talking about and how our bums have taken the worst hit.
The rate at which I’m going, by the time office reopens, I will either be buttock-less or have a permanently deformed bum. Man, this is such a ‘bummer’
Screw all that, I genuinely think that my mattress is dented from one side. Like it has a perfect bum-print of my but and no matter what I do, it will never be able to recover from the WFH trauma.
It’s like a personalised butt-id for my tushy.
I mean I always ‘ass-umed’ that WFH would be a pain in the butt, but never did I ever think it would get so literal.
I don’t know if this is funny or scary but I really don’t remember the last time my butt didn’t feel like someone was acupuncturing the shit out of it. Screw you WFH.
Man, if WFH has taught me anything, it is to reform the meaning of butthurt. Being butthurt means something completely different to me right now. It is honestly my perpetual mood and my physical state of being.
I mean who knew that out of everything that my office had to offer, the one thing I’d end up missing the most during WFH would be my wheely-chair. My bum really took all that comfort for granted.