My Prudish Confession

A prude (Old French prude meaning honourable woman) is a person who is described as (or would describe themselves as) being concerned with decorum or propriety, significantly in excess of normal prevailing community standards. They may be perceived as being more uncomfortable than most with sexuality, nudity, alcohol, drug use, or mischief.  ~ taken from the web's most reliable source: Wikipedia

Disclaimer: I am a self-proclaimed Prude.  When I buy an item of clothing, I often think about what I can wear under and over it (and yes, I do mean both... simultaneously).  I think that "modest is hottest" and believe that the biblical shame that originally went along with being naked has lost some of its oomph.  I think we could use a little more shame in our society and, frankly, fear we may have lost the concept all together.  

In today's media, arguably the most modest example we have is the Duggar family whose reality show, "19 Kids and Counting," has made them famous for their conservative teachings.  If you have ever watched the show, you know that the Duggar family is modest, choose not to wear shorts (girls and boys), and that when they see a woman dressed inappropriately, they use the word "nike" to alert the male members of the family to look in a different direction.  Just this past week, while watching the Today Show, we could not help but find humor in the horrified look on Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar's faces as they sat opposite Sports Illustrated 2012 Swim Suit Cover Model Kate Upton, with her cut-down-to-the-navel blouse, waiting to be interviewed.  My husband shouted "nike, nike" at the screen and I laughed hysterically at the obvious discomfort between the three of them before heading out the door to work.

Referring to the title of this post, it probably wouldn't be shocking to learn that a "Duggar" is something I have been accused of being when referring to thoughts on modesty.  So much so that my sister has turned the name into a verb as in "Why do you have to Duggar everything up?"  

And this brings us to my prudish confession.  The confession is not that I am a prude, because that cat tore its way out of the bag somewhere around the time I was voted "Most Likely to Become a Nun" at my very Protestant public high school.  A senior night superlative that I told my mom made me want to rob a bank just to prove otherwise, while she assured me by saying "Don't worry, you will get married."  The latter concept had not even entered my mind for why I may have received the title.  

You see, my husband has had a subscription to Sports Illustrated magazine for almost twenty years.  For the last seven of those years, I, too, enjoy picking up the magazine from time to time to read a personal interest article, see a photograph taken of the latest amazing athletic feat, or check for tips that might help me make my picks during our annual March Madness bet.  

However, when the annual Swim Suit Issue arrives, it isn't my husband that ends up thumbing through the pages.  Whether it is solely out of respect for me or due to his actual interest in reading the sports commentary (I will gladly accept the gesture either way), he never shows interest in the barely-clad, bikini-bodied girls. Shockingly, I don't have that kind of restraint.  Seriously, it is like seeing a streaker on the football field at halftime.  I just can't turn away.  It's not that I want to see the nudity.  I am definitely not turned on by it, and, yet, the curiosity gets me every time. 

Curiosity?  Yes, curiosity.  My mind is littered with questions as I make my way through the issue... 

1. Does your mother know you're doing this?  
2. Is she proud of it?  
3. Did you have a strong male figure in your life as a child because surely you wouldn't be doing this if you did, right?  
4. Were you born hairless or did they wax your entire body?  
5. If they waxed it, what is the perfect window between redness from waxing and regrowth?  
6. How much of that is PhotoShop?  
7. My underwear covers more than that, so when they handed you the wet, white t-shirt that stops at your armpits did you even question it, or do you just put it on casually as if it actually made for sensible beach wear?  
8. Am I the only one who can not stand to have sand stuck to my backside (although there are some incriminating pictures from my childhood that would prove otherwise)?  
9. The "Athletes in Body Paint" section, really?  Who talked you into thinking that a painted-on bathing suit is covering?  That is just naked, ladies.  
10. Is there really a need to spend the absurd amount of money it must cost to take the swim suit issue shoot around the world to places like Australia, Zambia, and Panama touting "148 destinations, covering six continents, 53 countries, and 13 states?"  Because I am pretty sure you could have shot that in the wave pool with a floating discarded diaper (why is there always a floating diaper in those things??) at the local water park and men would still be drooling.  
11. Is it really necessary to list the model's hobbies, education, and vision for the future?  Is there anyone who really cares why Adaora has chosen to only go by one name or about Nina's favorite Danish dish?  Who thinks differently about Michelle's seductive pose now that we know she turned down a swimming scholarship to Yale, or takes Jessica seriously while she is wearing a completely see-through mesh shirt now that we know she studied SIDS while getting her Psych degree?  
12. Also, though not a question as much of a social consciousness, I don't know if I should feel embarrassment for the misplaced priorities of our country while they stand half naked girls in front of fully clothed locals of some remote island or be glad that they are promoting tourism? 

This is where I have to stop and take a moment to think because, although I do prefer a more layered look and don't mind being called "modest," I don't think I am quite to a Duggar level of demure. No matter what my preferred undergarments might suggest. I mean, the Duggars would never talk about waxing. Clearly I am far more cutting edge. 

While writing this post, I told my husband that I see myself as a nice, happy medium. He then pointed out the fact that, up to this point, I have given pros and cons of the Duggars, but only negative thoughts about the swim suit issue models.  He suggested that I find things in common with the models to better balance the theory that I am not to either extreme.  "Like what?" I asked.  

"I don't know. Your love of travel?" 

So here it is, a list of, although it be short, things I might have in common with a swim suit model.

1. Our love of travel.  Ok, so this was already mentioned, but I am having a hard time starting. 
2. Comfort in front of a camera.  Although they appear to be different levels of comfort, I also enjoy photography and have never been one to shy away from a picture. 
3. Shared emphasis on fitness.  Again, clearly different degrees of dedication but I also want to be in good health and definitely wouldn't mind getting those kind of results. 
4. Use of beauty products.  I wear makeup and always enjoy a good mani/pedi too. 
5. Driven.  I work hard and enjoy my job.  We may look completely different performing tasks at work, but I could never say they haven't worked hard to get or keep what they've got.  See number 3.

As you can see, I am struggling.  Maybe if I actually met one of them, like the Duggars, I would find more in common than the superficial.  Hopefully, I wouldn't take the opportunity to talk with them about the unnecessary practice of baring it all on a beach in Bali. 

All I know is that every year the issue comes, every year I can't help but look, and every year I ride the fence between horror and amazement.  Flipping each page with thoughts of "Have you no decency and would I have decency if I looked like that?"  Wondering what went wrong to leave them with such little confidence that they would be willing to allow men they don't even know (and will probably end up having to get restraining orders against) to ogle them at what they are trying to present as a valid profession.  Wishing my workouts provided that much muscle tone and then realizing that my one hour, four days a week with a desk job probably doesn't even begin to touch the amount of time they spend on their bodies which is both freeing and annoying at the same time.  

The last page of the magazine, with the aforementioned white quarter length shirt fitted more for the likes of a three year old, has a headline that "The 2013 issue will be the 50th."  Knowing it too will be on our counter in the stack of mail, I can't help but think about someone's daughter excitedly gearing up to pose in next to nothing for the sake of her "career."

At the end of the day, I just hope that I am somewhere between a "Duggar" and the "Cover".