Stacy Davies

How to Be a Feminist and Still Pose for Playboy

Recently, I was a hopeful for the Playboy magazine cattle call: "College Girls in Lingerie." Or maybe it was "College Girls and Lingerie." I'm not sure--I was too busy tending my boobs. Anyway, I embarked on this torrid tryst because as one who is often mistaken for a librarian (and not the "naughty" kind), I wanted to see how my rack ranked not only against bimbos, but against floozies and skanks as well. Here's how I did it:

1) Ate nothing but Special K cereal for two weeks and lost one pound. Reminded myself Marilyn Monroe was a size 14.

2) Found a 28-inch corset for my 31-inch waist and tightened it to 25 inches. Remembered I've come a long way, baby. Took an Advil for the lung-puncture wound.

3) Considered breast augmentation for my 36C rack. Instead, stuffed DKNY socks under my boobs.

4) Had professional hair Houdini Chris Bunyan at Crew flat-iron my naturally curly mane. Then at home, decided it needed to be flatter and burned a chunk off. Noted I was very punk.

5) Had a gal pal spackle my face with Lancome. Felt like Cleopatra--looked in the mirror and saw a Red Skelton Sad Clown face on Ecstacy.

6) Glued corn pads into my slippery, Delicious six-inch stilettos so my fishnetted phalanges wouldn't slide out the open toe. An hour later, while entering the audition waiting room, reminded myself of my staggering I.Q. when I noticed the corn pads were now stuck to the tops of my feet.

7) Sat in a peach pillbox of a hotel room with six peroxided, overtanned, triple-D waifs and talked about Kimberly's drunken handstand at the Captain Cream amateur night and Rachelle's storming of the Playboy headquarters in LA and getting 86'd for life. Giggled a lot and pictured archaeologists one day digging up coagulated water balloons.

8) While sponging up my dripping eyeliner in the bathroom mirror, caught a glimpse of my back fat spilling over the corset. Fluffed my hair over it and did a Tina Turner groove when exiting.

9) Feigned a lusty disposition as I entered the shoot room by pretending toppling off my stilts was a seductive gait. Felt superior when they bought it.

10) When the photographer asked me to remove my top and another man started filming me for the Internet, told myself that they were as impartial as my gynecologist and were not getting off on it. Shot daggers at them anyway.

11) Did my best Janeane Garofalo bit as I removed the socks from under my boobs for the big breast flash.

12) Unfurled my precious treasures and didn't think of my mother. Or my eventual bid for the presidency.

13) Called my mom. Considered running for the Senate instead.

14) Heard her gush with pride. Realized a mayoral position is more my style anyway.

15) Filled out an application to be an emergency substitute teacher.

Stacy Davies is calendar editor at Orange Coast Weekly, where this article originally appeared.


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