Ass-et Management

One bum. 132 pairs of jeans. Cosmopolitan’s MADDY ALFORD finds the perfect (non-surgical) lift

I am in Selfridges’ changing rooms struggling to hoist a pair of skinny jeans up over my belly. I’ve stupidly worn granny pants instead of a thong, and now realise the gravity of this mistake. I turn around and catch sight of my arse in the mirror. Even Selfridges’ benevolent lighting can’t disguise the fact it now looks like four Dairylea Triangles. I feel teary. When did this happen? When did my backside decide to look more like my mum’s? And can a pair of ‘miracle’ jeans really help me get my own bum back? To answer that, I need to go on a journey. A long journey. A journey that will involve lots of denim. Lots of looking at my arse. And lots of existential questioning conducted in high-street fitting rooms across the world.

When I was a teenager, I loved my bum. I mean really loved it. It was cute and round like a Granny Smith apple, and slipped into my low-rise Hollister jeans as easily as a reality star slides into a protein-shake endorsement.