When I was 20, no kids, 5 foot 9 inches tall and 125 pounds, I was not real comfortable getting naked in front of anyone.
At the time I had an “outie,” that being a belly button that stuck out. It was an oddity when I was a child and one I didn’t advertise. Many years later I would learn that an “outie” can become an “innie” and not necessarily for the right reasons.
I also was flat-chested, had no hips and no butt. I did have long legs, which many women tried to tell me was a blessing, but in the ’70s and ’80s when I could never find a pair of pants that were long enough it did not seem so to me.
Today I am 46. I’ve borne two children, which in real terms means my abdomen went from a quaint 27 inches to something much, much more.
I’m actually not nearly as flat-chested as I used to be. Breast-feeding two babies seemed to take care of that, and there was a brief moment when I thought that was a good thing.
So the bottom line is that I’m left with wicked long legs, a softer than desired middle section and an actual bosom that optimally could be lifted just a bit. Oh, and my outie is a solid innie.
I wonder now what my problem was in getting naked in front of anyone when I was 20, 5 foot 9 inches tall and 125 pounds — with an outie.
I suppose part of it is a sense of modesty. Good figure, questionable figure or bad — some people simply are not comfortable being seen naked.
So how now shall I fly?
Since a suspected terrorist tried to blow up a Detroit-bound plane with explosives sewn into his underwear, airport security officials are pushing new full-body scanners that take near-naked images of passengers before they board.
What happens when I step up to the plate and a perfectly nice-looking man or woman in a perfectly nice-looking uniform asks me to stand before the screen and turn around.
I would have to suspect that he or she can see my undies. They can see me, and I can see them. What if they wince?
What if they flag me through too quickly and spend just a bit more time looking at the twentysomething woman behind me?
I got used to the idea of taking off my shoes when I flew. Not a big problem. I can find a decent pair of socks.
Even trying on a pair of jeans in a department store with a sign on the dressing room door that said the room may be “observed” wasn’t easy. But I got used to it and simply convinced myself that it was probably more of a threat than an actuality.
I even, with a bit of difficulty, swallowed hard, but still went, when my local YMCA put a notice on the locker room door that camera phones were prohibited in the locker room.
Would anyone really take pictures of us women changing from our sweats?
So I’m a bit angry at this “underwear bomber.” I figure that while he did not successfully blow up an American plane on Christmas Day he certainly did change things for us.
Will I actually have to look into the eyes of an airport screener who is seeing me and my unmentionables and wait for his nod before I get on a plane?
Will he wave me right on through? Will I think that’s an insult? Will he or she wonder about my innie or outie? Will middle school-age boys everywhere come to think that being an airport security screener is an admirable career?
I want to be safe, just as you do. I’d also like to try my jeans on in private. I’d like to keep my underthings to myself. I’d also prefer it if my plane did not fly into a high-rise or disintegrate over the Atlantic.
I’m not 20 years old anymore, but I am still 5 feet 9 inches tall, and I still don’t like the idea of getting naked in front of anyone.
Things, shall we say, have shifted a bit, like it or not.