Is that a finger over the lens, obscuring this lovely photo? No, no it’s not
IS THAT a finger over the lens, obscuring this lovely photo? Oh wait, it’s something else. WARNING: Do not click on this if you’re offended by the sight of balls.
YOU need no further proof that the internet exists to encourage exhibitionists and freaks than the latest online photo meme craze of, ahem, nutscaping.
In a nut shell (sorry, not sorry — if that c-grade humour offends, you’d best click away now), men are photographing beautiful landscapes around the world, from the Swiss Alps to the Taj Mahal, with their, how can I say this delicately, samosas hanging over the top of the frame.
Imagine the photo your mum always takes with her thumb annoyingly in shot, except the obscuring object is round and hairy and disturbingly testicular.
Apparently nutscaping has been around since 2007, when it was begun by a Kiwi, I assume for a dare because why else would you even think of it. It now has its own website and Tumblr account, which plenty would find funny.
Not me. I’ve never been one for balls. Obviously I can acknowledge their purpose, and I remember enough of Year 8 Sex Ed to know that they’re a remarkable part of the anatomy. Hard working, self-regulating, reactive to threats, they are the brains trust of the pants department. Like Kris Jenner is to the Kardashians. As such, I respect them, and have, on occasion paid my dues. I just don’t like looking at them. And I especially don’t like having the mental image of someone’s beanbag hanging over his iPhone, as he snaps a quick selfie. Unless it is captioned with an awesome pun, like Great Ball of China or Nigara Balls or Colossal-eum. I’d manage a smile then.
If you’ve got the constitution for it though, nutscaping is totally harmless. If a bloke wants to include Nutbush City Limits in his travels, that’s his business. If he wants a meatball with his Leaning Tower of Pisa, if he wants to add his stone to Stonehenge, who are we to judge?
In fact, I think us womenfolk could learn a thing or two from this Saturday Nut Fever. Apart from the extraordinary geography lesson, I’d love it if my girlfriends and I could embrace a similar sense of humour about our vajayjays.
That’s not to say we don’t have a laugh, oh, when one of us unexpectedly breaks a dry spell with a nightclub barman and she hasn’t waxed for 38 months. Or when my new gynaecologist realised “Oh I know who you are” at a very intrusive moment, as though that were my most recognisable angle.
But when do we ever have a good self-deprecating go at our own beautifully diverse, weird and wonderful in all their differences, lady-bits? It would be a big step towards a healthier, more open attitude, for there is no greater form of acceptance than taking the piss.
Instead, we’re worrying if we’re normal, or ugly, or the wrong size, or how come it doesn’t look like that picture our boyfriend showed us, and so we’re perpetuating a shame myth that at best makes us disconnected with or embarrassed of our bodies and at worst keeps us locked in self-loathing.
I mean look at the contrast. Men are literally flashing their Tetley’s to the world at the same time women are getting labiaplasty procedures so they look better in yoga pants. Seriously. WHAT IS WRONG WITH US??? We’d rather invite a surgeon to cut off a part of our body than laugh off a perfectly natural body part.
Now obviously we lack a certain protrusion to allow for a chick’s version of nutscaping, and anyway I wouldn’t want to see us jump on board the blokes’ avocado festival. However, let’s not forget that boobs are hilarious. It’s hard to see them as such because they’re only ever represented as sexy or lactating, but a random nip slip is ALWAYS funny.
As someone who once sent out a thank you card following her daughter’s 1st birthday with a photo in which her left nipple had popped out to express it’s own special gratitude, I know the fallout is hysterical. You just have to own it. Why can’t we? I propose a worldwide movement of deliberate nip-slips. Call it photo-boobing. Even better if you can do it, subtly, in front of magnificent scenery. On a visit to the Statue of Boob-erty, perhaps. Or Tits-eltown.
If the guys can do it, so can we. We’re just going tit for tat.