Goodbye, Playgirl

It seems that Playgirl magazine is getting the shaft. Yes, sexism has reared its ugly head and Playgirl has ceased publication of its print magazine. Playgirl was first published in 1973 as the feminist answer to Playboy. Kudos to the feminist movement, but, unfortunately, Playgirl never achieved the success of Playboy. Actually, it’s been said that gay men were bigger followers of Playgirl than the intended audience of sexually revolutionized women. Well, I have to say, I never purchased a Playgirl myself, but my Mom did once…

Before I begin this story, I have to tell you a little about my Mom. She is probably the most innocent and naïve person on this Earth. She never really could muster up the courage to have “the talk” with us, and to this day she blushes at dirty jokes (when she understands them). She won’t even mention reproductive parts. For example, when discussing whether a dog was male or female, she said, “Well, he has… a… you know.”

“It’s a penis, Mom,” I said, “That’s the proper name; it’s not a dirty word.” She blushed again. Mom can’t even say the word “penis.” Not even today. It’s hard to believe she has five children…maybe the stork brought us. Anyway, here’s the story….

Mrs. Anderson peered furtively at Mom as she pushed the pile of candy aside and rung up the magazine. I supposed she was thinking that these five, energetic children did not need candy and boy would she report our behavior to Grandma Pip when she saw her in church next Sunday. I grabbed the bag of candy and joyously skipped to the 1975 burnt orange Dodge station wagon. I was quite excited to venture away from suburban life and head to the old covered bridge on a fishing trip. Mom didn’t like fishing or the outdoors in general, so Dad always stopped at Anderson’s store on the way out of town so she could get some reading material. Now that Mom had her magazine, we could be on our way. Jen and I piled way to the back of the wagon. Since Joey wanted to sit up front with Dad, Mom sat in the back seat between Chrissy and Pam. As Jen and I fought over Swedish fish, Mom unwrapped her magazine. I peered at the title, "Playgirl,” and I thought that sounded so glamorous and it must have great fashion photos. Mom usually bought The Star or National Enquirer and I loved to view the pictures of the stars dressed to the nines. Mom carefully opened the magazine and started flipping through the pages. Suddenly, I spied a picture, not of a fashionably dressed Hollywood starlet, but of a completely naked man! My mother screamed and abruptly shut the magazine. “Joe, turn around,” she screeched. Dad slammed the brakes, surely assuming one of his children was choking on a Swedish fish. “Joe, you HAVE to take this back!” Mom yelled throwing the magazine at Dad. Her face was beet red and she looked like she was about to cry. Dad looked at the Playgirl and didn’t say a word as he turned the car around and took the magazine back to Andersons. I still have that picture in my mind and Mom’s screech and Dad’s (unusual for him) silence. I wonder if Grandma Pip heard that her daughter-in-law purchased a dirty magazine.

Maybe I should get Mom the final issue of Playgirl for Christmas; then I can say that I actually bought one.