Speaking of Women on Toilets

[WARNING: NUDITY TO FOLLOW]

Have I mentioned how open-minded I am about sexuality and women’s bodies? You know, every woman has a right to feel sexy and love her body no matter what she looks like, etc., etc.? If a 450-pound woman wants to frolic naked on the beach and cause a tsunami on the other side of the globe, she should have that right.

That’s how I felt yesterday. (You’ll recall: “Oh, that Jenny McCarthy, isn’t she just so liberated, posing on a toilet and all? You go, girl!”) Then I picked up a copy of this week’s Time Out New York.

First, I read Julia Allison’s column on PDA: “’…only hot people should be allowed to PDA,’ says a friend of mine who shall remain nameless. ‘Honestly, I’ve been with some women who I just didn’t think were that pretty, and that made me subconsciously reluctant to show the world that I was banging them.’”

Now why remain nameless? Is it your modesty that makes you just as subconsciously reluctant to show the world what a benefactor you are to ugly women? Such an act of nobility, letting homely chicks shack up with someone of your genetic makeup. You add a notch to your belt. They scrape together some self-esteem. It’s a win-win situation. Why not fess up to your humanitarian mission? Maybe Bono would take you to Africa. You could sleep with the entire continent, maybe get AIDS in the process. Again, a win-win situation.

Not that your comment makes me angry or anything. Honestly, I’m sure I say worse on a daily basis. Just own it. That’s all I’m saying. Really. Okay, I’m done with my rant.

So here I was, feeling all high and mighty when I came across this reader-submitted image, and realized that I, too, am an asshole. Just because some women look hot sitting on a toilet doesn’t mean we all can. Ladies, please do not try this at home. Yet, I can’t take my eyes off this photo. It gives me a funny feeling inside. Why the toilet paper? Why the glasses? Why not sit up straight? Why, why, why? I can’t figure out if I feel bad for her or for myself, that I can’t get behind whatever statement she’s trying to make about her sexuality. Is she liberated or just fucked up? Dude, so many deep conversations and I’m not even stoned. I guess there’s only one solution to all this: photograph myself naked on the toilet and see how it makes me feel. How very “I’m Okay, You’re Okay” of me, don’t you think?