…is not very imposing.
COVER YOUR EYES NOW. COVER YOUR EYES NOW!
(Sorry in advance if this is gross.)
Today I was scarred for life.
I cannot UNsee what I have seen.
The disturbing and appalling vision is still imprinted on my brain. I’m trying to blur it, to drown it, in Craftwork chardonnay, but it’s not WORKING. Get it? CraftWORK, WORKING.
Forgive me, I am traumatized. Wholly and completely.
There it was in all of its unappealing glory.
Right in my face.
It was a flippin’ and a floppin’ every which-a-way. It really was.
It flipped up. It flipped down. Up and down. It flopped. To the left. To the right. And if my eyes did not deceive me, there was some diagonal flipflopping action as well.
Everthing was moving in different diretions. All at once. In the blink of an eye.
All by itself, it was doing the “Hokey Pokey” and turning itself around.
A VERY indecent exposure.
Let me disclaim here and now: I am the mother of a male. I am the daughter of a nurse. I’ve seen my fair share…
I say all that to explain that I am not UNfamiliar with male anatomy. And yes, I’m married too, so this is not virgin territory. I AM a bit naive about a lot of things, I’ll admit that. No problem. I’ve never seen porn, not EVER, and don’t really ever want to. I’m the lover of Hello Kitty, remember? Kitties, puppies, butterflies — that’s what’s floating around in my head at any given time.
THIS was a seminal event in my life.
My tugboat man and I were running around doing errands preparatory to leaving for our Yellowstone journey. We had to go to REI and Target and a few other places. Our day ended quite literally at the beach. We stopped to get a much-deserved shave ice at our favorite place, JR’s Shave Ice in Oceanside.
As we headed south towards Carlsbad, hub wanted to stop at the beach to look at the waves (not very good btw) for a potential evening glass-off sesh. We pulled in behind a black truck. (Important story point.)
It was starting to get a little chilly so I sat in the car while he walked over to the cliff to check out the surf at Terramar.
It all happened so fast.
In the blink of an eye.
A surfer, obviously done for the day, was the owner of that black truck in front of us. He put his surfboard in the truckbed and proceeded to peel off his wetsuit.
COVER YOUR EYES NOW. COVER YOUR EYES NOW!
If only someone had yelled that at me, I would be writing about something else, not attempting to purge this horrendous vision from my soul.
He appeared to be in his mid-to-late forties and weighed 350 pounds or so, if my calculations are correct. The towel he wrapped around his waist was NOT large enough to completely cover his girth and…and his male reproductive parts.
There was a gap in the meeting of the towel.
A triangular gap that exposed private things. Can you picture that?
I was NOT looking, not actively, but it was in my field of vision; the periphery.
Hub started to walk back from the precipice of the cliff. He’s coming to me — he’s my savior — he’ll take care of this I know, and prevent me from seeing what no one should see.
The wetsuit is peeled all the way down his Orson Welles-ian gigantic stomach and then…
And then — because he’s too obese to bend down and pull it all the way off –HE KICKS the wetsuit OFF HIS FEET onto the sidewalk
At that moment, that precise moment that I was telepathically beseeching my tugboat man to save me, the wetsuit was kicked, the obese man gave a little hop as he stumbled just a bit, unable to balance with all that extra weight (he really needs some yoga training)…
The towel opened wide, and that’s when I couldn’t help but be exposed to all that…
flipping and flopping of his (unimpressive) out-of-control rudder. (I’m reminded of that Seinfeld episode where they’re all at the seaside and George is the victim of the cold, cruel ocean and what effect it has on…things. You know the one I’m talking about, right?)
A penis in repose is not a good look for anyone.
Not George Clooney. Not Johnny Depp Not Tom Brady.
Not even Ryan Gosling (OK maybe him).
There’s something of a nightmarish quality in seeing oftentimes proud, standing at attention, and imposing genitalia in all of its glory — reduced to its sad and listless self.
That’s my opinion. On a serious note, what if, instead of it being me, it was a child who saw that? I think surfers who change in public in full view of everyone need to be more circumspect.
We drove away, hub apologizing over and over on behalf of all men everywhere,
“You shouldn’t have had to see that. I know, I know. You poor dear. It must have been so terrible for you.”
Here’s my public service announcement to all surfers who change in public:
Surf poncho. Changing robe.
P.S. Here’s a cover-up that completely solves this problem. It’s a great investment.