Why Naked Scanners Thrill Me

airportMy name is Jeanne Sager, and I have a message for the TSA. Shoot a picture of me naked. Just don't touch my cha cha.

In fact, I'm kind of tired of the OMG, a person I'll never see again in my life will see a distorted image that looks vaguely like my naked body rants that are crawling all over the Internet. The union for two major airlines has even told pilots not to go through the X-ray backscatter scanners. They want them to opt for the pat-downs.

Say what?


The health risks of the machines aside (because let's face it, if you're like the average, ahem, broke American, you aren't going through these things very frequently), the risks of someone seeing you nekkid for five seconds far outweigh the possibility of some post-traumatic "he touched me in my private parts" stress.

Most of us have had it a lot worse. We strip down for our doctors, and if you're a woman, you then have to lie there in a cold room with your legs open while he sticks something metal in your crotch.

My doctor leaves the room so I can get undressed, and again so I can get re-dressed. I'm not sure why he bothers. He gets at least to second base for the breast exam and he sticks his fingers in my you-know-what. Him seeing me naked is the least of my problems.

Seeing him later in the grocery store, well, that's another issue.

Thankfully I don't live near an airport. The TSA people are never going to see me again, save for maybe on the return leg of my vacation trip. And with the gazillion people going through there, I doubt they're going to peg me out as that woman with the weird cottage cheese thighs from the monitor. That is if they can even see that I have cellulite.

But that pat-down gives me the heebie jeebies. Right on the TSA website they warn it's just this side of a porn flick: "In order to ensure security, this inspection may include sensitive areas of the body."

And unlike my yearly long sigh followed up by my phone call to the OB/GYN's office for my annual, we're not volunteering for this displeasure. They can stick their hands up where the sun don't shine, and we're supposed to take it. No disrespect to rape victims, but this comes perilously close to unwanted sexual something. If not rape then at the very least touching without consent.

I'm not crazy about going naked in front of someone other than my husband or my OB/GYN either. But if you pit one second, one shadowy image, against the indignities of someone running their hands over my private parts, I know which one gets my vote.

What about you?


Image via kanegen/Flickr

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