Oftentimes, as humans, we cling to our inhibitions and values so strongly that we get backed up for weeks until one day, as unsuspecting victims of Mother Nature, we give birth to a fifteen pound baby in the toilet.
But with the help of Activia and Jamie Lee Curtis’ inspiring story about how she overcame the crippling effects of constipation, sometimes it takes a heartwarming story like hers to help let us release that chains of our own modesty and flash to the world our true colors.
This happened to me just the other day.
As a soon-to-be expatriate of the United States, I decided to embrace my future culture in Britain and do something I have made it a point in my life never to do before: Donate to charity.
Before I go on, you may think that I am an evil son of a bitch for not donating to causes in the past. But I refuse to donate to charities when 95 percent of the money donated does not go to the specific cause an organization is claiming to be raising money for in the first place. What happened to that $100 dollars you sent to Rent-A-Child-Soldier? No it did not go to Ethiopia; instead it went to Cheryl Dreyfus’s weekly income for pushing paper in an office in Baltimore.
Now you’ll think twice about buying your way into the pearly gates in the sky.
I have always believed that charity is for people who aren’t creative enough to find the backdoor into Heaven. And no, that was not a priest innuendo.
Currently a campaign is taking place in the United Kingdom to raise awareness for cancer called the C**k-in-the-sock challenge. A male gets naked all except for a sock covering up his komodo dragon and, after being nominated by an individual who already donated, posts the picture on social networks with the hashtag #F**kCancer.
Now, while I am too bloody stubborn to donate money to charity, I figured I am not getting any older and could donate something else. That’s right people, my charitable trumpet. Anyone who knows me would tell you that I am the most bashful person on the planet. Hell, I can’t even get undressed in a locker room with ungracefully trying to do it under the covers of a towel.
But like Jamie Curtis releasing her inner demons into a poor innocent toilet, it was time for me to take the Activia Challenge and let go of my inhibitions.
The first step was finding a proper sock. No plain ordinary sock would do. I decided the most appropriate thing would be the socks I got for Christmas last year (Yes my family is Jewish but clearly confused because we only celebrate Xmas), a red and blue sock that said the F word all over it.
As courtesy to my straight roommate who was relaxing on the couch in the living room, I informed him after I stripped down, stood right in front of him wearing my sock and announced, “Don’t look like such a Catholic school girl, I’m saving lives Ian. Have you never seen this fashion trend before?”
I did a pose on our spiral staircase loud and proud and flicking off cancer. I also did one on my roommate’s mink duvet cover just for a bit of artistic taste.
I posted the pictures expecting to get maybe at most a few likes. Yesterday morning I had 216 followers. Today, after my phone died several times from constant notifications, I have over 700. And I woke up at 4 a.m. to a link someone emailed me which to my surprise, featured a picture of me in all my bashful glory titled “Men put their ‘C**k-in-a-sock’ for cancer awareness”.
For the first few hours before the sun rose, I was mortified. Somehow, this picture went viral and landed me in an article about Brit’s fighting for a cause. So on the bright side, my denouncing my American citizenship was already well underway.
In the end, I have come to terms with my charitable donation causing quite a stir. After all, the optimist in me wants to believe that this was the point of my temporary exploration into the nudist lifestyle: Raise awareness.
And while I have seemed to successfully raised awareness, it appears that the massive amount of comments has raised other things in certain parts of the male species. I can only wish I was talking about their hearts.
The art of letting go is a difficult process. Fortunately there are things like Activia to make that process a little less painful. I am happy I have officially participated in a national cause; especially if it wins me brownie points with immigration. Maybe it isn’t the most angelic of ways to get me into heaven. And who needs a back door? I’ll knock it down with a sock.