Heavens, I haven’t seen so many penises in one setting since I happened upon my old college roommate’s stash of Playgirl magazines. I love the Penis Project and what it represents, exposure and exploitation of men. As a woman of thirty-six who until recently has been flat-chested all of her adult life (and I do mean flat, flat as a board) I feel that men should have some idea as to the insecurity I and other women so slighted by Mother Nature must endure throughout adolescence and beyond. I recently opted for breast enhancement surgery and, boy, how I’m fetching male gazes now, getting asked out seemingly at every turn so I believe you have a real lesson here which needs to be heard.
Some of us women love to tease about penis size, that seven (inches) is the magic number—reference the proverbial joke about the black woman who had a man she fondly dubbed “7Up—Seven inches and they’s always up” or the female anchor woman who allegedly made the television on-air gaffe, asking her weatherman “So, Harry, what happened to the seven inches you promised me last night?” (she was referring to snow, mind you, LOL).
But when it comes to the penis does size actually matter? If you ask one of my girlfriends you’ll get a resounding “yes”, that you feel more with a thicker penis (but then her gynecologist confirmed that she has an unnaturally large vaginal canal); I and all of my other girlfriends will tell you that an average-sized penis (~five and a half to six inches long erect, ~4.8 inches in circumference erect) is just fine and the fact that vibrators and dildos with similarly modest dimensions are the best sellers out there confirm that in general women don’t prefer larger. We’d rather that men take a page from Isadora Wing’s Well-Tempered Penis (Erica Jong’s bestselling Fear of Flying novel) and keep it lusty, know how to use it to a woman’s best advantage.
Having said that I’d still like to obtain one of your “Size Matters” bumper stickers if you still have any left (formerly available from the Café Press web store?). If so, please let me know. Hey, it’s still fun to tease, keep men on their toes!
You express your dissatisfaction with the lack of parity when it comes to female and male nudity in cinema. Several years ago I saw a French indie drama written, directed and produced by a woman in which there’s only one nude scene and it’s of the gorgeous, sensitive male lead doing his morning toilette. The camera invades the privacy of his boudoir just long enough for a lingering shot of him as he briefly studies his naked form turned to one side in the mirror, sipping a cup of coffee, affording the female viewers a tantalizing view of his full bottom, his well-coiffed pubic plumage and the jut of his slightly-tumescent penis. That scene is in the second half of the movie and was so unexpected that it caught you off guard, threw you for a loop, so provocative because it occurs after you’ve gotten to know him, to identify with him, his feelings, his character and, again, you weren’t expecting it and no one else appears nude or semi-nude in the movie.
Hey, timing is everything and less is often more…
I’d also like to mention to you that a friend of mine, a female filmmaker, recently shared with me some footage of one of her pictures that’s currently in production but has temporarily stalled due to budget issues. It’s an indie flick dealing with a middle-aged man grappling with mental illness and how he comes to term with it. There’s a scene in which the so-beset man is conversing with his female therapist in his home, slouched back on a couch with her seated beside him. At one point his robe falls open, revealing that he’s totally naked underneath; unconscious, on the verge of insanity, he continues to ramble on and she doesn’t interrupt or attempt to cover him for fear of losing the moment as he’s really opening up to her at this point.
There’s one long unbroken stretch in the scene in which he alone is framed on the couch, his entire body but his fully-exposed genitalia, his penis is the real focal point of the shot. As he beams, shares his fondest memories, his uncircumcised penis discernibly expands, lengthens a bit, the tip emerging halfway out from the foreskin probingly, inquisitively, the curled dorsal lip of his sheath lending his member the appearance of a horned snail. As he weeps, recollecting his greatest disappointments and sorrows, his penis retracts, shrivels, wrinkles a bit, the tip retreating back inside as the sheath partially closes…
It’s hands down the most poignant dramatic scene I’ve ever witnessed in a movie and that’s saying a lot as I’m a real student of cinema history. In the event that the nudity in this context proves too controversial an unexposed version of the scene is also “in the can” but Madelyn, the writer, director and one of the principal actresses in the film, has vowed tooth-and-nail to keep the film intact with this nude scene. If interested I’ll keep you posted when production resumes.
Is there a possibility of any upcoming shows? I live in the Chicago area and would like to ride up sometime for one if so.
My blog buddy and one of your correspondents, Phyllis Morehead, referred me to your site, gave me your email addresses, BTW.
P.S.: At first I was dismayed because it initially appeared as though you didn’t have any “marbled” (veiny) men among your collection but then I noticed on closer inspection that “Fairy Queen” does actually show some marbling. She’s my favorite, a diva to be sure…
P.S.: Quote for the day: Penises are like snowfalls; you never know how many inches you’re gonna get…
Hope to hear from you soon,