Ideas and Musings, Snark

The Front Tuck: Codpieces and Radical Acts

Have you seen the new fashion trend? Keep an eye out and you’ll see this new-fangled thing the kids are doing of tucking your shirt in, but only at the very front.

The first time I saw this, my whole body rebelled. My old decrepit mind couldn’t wrap itself around why anyone would just tuck in the front. It shouted, quietly, “you look like a bunch of dumbasses!”.  It was on the same plane as wearing your pants so low I can see your skid marks. I just couldn’t fathom it.

Then I thought to myself that tucking your shirt in just in front was rather sexual. It called attention to that whole area. Rather like those leggings with lines that all point at your asshole. Look at me! I have an asshole! Look at me! I have a crotch!

Then I Tried It

I was getting ready for work a couple of days ago and I was wearing on oversized shirt. Something compelled me, called to me, forced me to tuck my shirt in the front, just to see. Was it curiosity? Did I subconsciously “intuit” something? Was I just in the mood to look silly that day? Who knows!

What I do know is that the moment I tucked in my shirt, I got it. I understood it at a deep primal level. It satisfied something in me.

The Standard Theory

I looked it up on line and the reason that was given for tucking your shirt in front was to accentuate your waist and keep you from looking like a big blob, an un-broken line.

They have lots of guidelines about how your shirt shouldn’t be too big, yada yada. And that is all good. But when I tucked mine in, it was an oversized shirt. And yes, I had to deal with the bunching a bit to make it look good.

And yes, it does break up the line and show the waist. But there is much more to it.

My Shirt Is Tucked!

When I tucked my shirt, I immediately saw the waist and the broken line. That was nice, but I don’t get overly excited about fashion and following fads. I knew there was something deeper going on. It made me feel good, like I was on top of the layered wedding cake.

I spent the day with that shirt tucked in, exploring my feelings about it. Hello, I’m walking down the street here. I have my shirt tucked. Yes, I do. I swaggered through Pioneer Square in Seattle. Uh huh. That’s right. My shirt is tucked!

Such a small thing. The tuck of a shirt. It gave me so much pleasure! Showing my waist and breaking the line is just not compelling enough to excite me.

The Codpiece

Back in the day, men used to wear codpieces. Sometimes ornate, sometimes larger than life, but all calling attention to the fact that the man has a dick.

Look at me! I have a dick! Don’t you see it?

Hey! I have one too!

Mine is bigger than yours!

No, you can clearly see that mine is bigger than yours!

Some woman: Dumbasses, a codpiece is not the indicator of your size. I happen to know that both of you stuff.

Let’s go strolling around! We can thrust out our codpieces and make sure everyone knows we have dicks!

Yes! Let’s go!

And off they go, swaggering around waving their codpieces at everyone. Feeling so good about themselves.

Men don’t wear codpieces so much anymore but they do other things. Pants way too tight. Putting their fingers in their pockets in such a way that they are pointing at their dick. Stuffing.

Hey! Look at me! I have a dick!

For many women who’ve had trouble with men, this feels like a sort of power. Men get to be obvious and assertive about their genitals, but women…well, there is a double standard, isn’t there?

A Radical Act

Yes, men have dicks. And since they are on the outside, they are obvious. They are the “haves”. They have something that women don’t, and if they are at all insecure, by God they are going to swing it about.

Women have vaginas. They are on the inside and not obvious. No one is going to make a “vaginapiece” that we can wear to display what we have.

Men can swagger around showing that they have something we don’t. Like it’s such a good thing to have something that vulnerable that can easily be chopped off. Silly men…

And that is where tucking comes in.

It’s the equivalent of the codpiece, of the tight pants, of the fingers pointing. And we never have to stuff, because size just doesn’t matter.

We could stuff. Really stuff it up and then swing it around, but we’re not going to do that. It is on the inside, and not obvious. Our “vaginapiece” will have to reflect that truth.

Think of tucking in the front. It’s right above our vaginas. The rest of the shirt hangs down and covers the waist and the butt, depending upon on how long the shirt is. In a quiet, not obvious way, we are displaying our genital region.

Look at me! I have a vagina! You can’t see it, but I see your eyes. You know it’s there!

I have a vagina too! I’m gonna tuck!

Some man: Silly women, it’s not like you have a dick!

That’s right! We have vaginas!

We don’t even need to stuff to make ourselves look bigger!

Yeah! That’s for insecure men!

Off they go, strolling through the crowds, quietly displaying their power to people who will probably only get it at a subconscious level. Making older folks like me wonder what the hell they are doing, and maybe taking the time to think about it.

Tucking is about power. It’s a radical act.

No wonder I had so much fun strutting around Pioneer Square. That’s right, my shirt is tucked. Do you understand what that means? Do you see how I own my own power? I am powerful in my own right, outside of gender, community, judgments and shame.

And if you wear a belt with a big buckle? Well, that just makes it even more powerful!

<swaggering now>

So, yeah, tuck! But the hell with the waist and breaking the line reasons. Do it for yourselves. Work it…own it. Tuck!

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