Does my bum look big in this?

On Friday night I went to Katherine's extremely fun birthday party - it was the first time I've gone along to a party where I knew only the host and it was brilliantly easy to chat to her delightful friends, lots of whom live near what will hopefully become my new flat. Lovely. The only small downside occurred at approximately 10pm when I was standing near the bar and a gentleman knocked into my shoulder. He was not the first person to have pushed past me and, a few glasses of Pinot Grigio the wiser, I was lairy enough to spin around and jokingly say, 'Would everyone please stop bumping into me?!' His response was unexpected. It was: 'Well, if you didn't have such a massive arse, I wouldn't have banged into it.' I must have guppied for a bit too long because he continued, 'Don't get me wrong, it's a lovely arse, but it's huge, and you should accept that.' I then found the power of speech and said something along the lines of: 'Normally I wouldn't sink to the level of retaliation, but on this occasion I'll make an exception. Your hairline is receding and it's very unattractive. Plus you are far, far too drunk for this early stage in the evening.' He mumbled something about having passed an Ofsted schools inspection and lurched off, not before throwing his parting shot, 'Besides, your hairline's receding too, and you're a girl.'

Well. He got the last bit right: I am, indeed, a girl. But I have to admit, it wasn't that particular accusation that upset me. Let's all think about my arse, shall we? Even after a couple of months' fairly steady weightloss, there is absolutely no denying that it is in no sense a small one. Pert, petite, firm, delicate, peachy: none of these adjectives are spot-on. But it is a comfortable UK size 14, which is the average clothes size for women in this country, so surely a more accurate description would be 'medium', rather than, as my new friend so delicately put it, 'massive'? Massive arses require more than one seat on an aeroplane. Massive arses demand special sizes in jeans shops and rule out the wearing of shift dresses. My arse, I am confident, is not massive.

Since this incident, both the male bystander who witnessed the incident and a male friend I asked about it last night immediately explained that the man definitely fancied me and was trying, albeit utterly ineptly, to flirt. How hilarious. Boys are even more ridiculous than I thought - and I'm more relieved than ever not to be affiliated to one at present. If you need me, I'll be on the Stairmaster.