Lexa - Mortified

"Do you have to read that here? It's awful." Lexa's flatmate, Shelly, was flicking through the latest T.I.T.T.I.E.S magazine in their flat kitchen, the only communal space they really had in the cramped dorms of their university.

"It's a government endorsed sociological journal." Replied Shelly.

"It's just porn with a fancy name, could you please just put it away?"

"If it wasn't a useful piece of media for the public, the student union would not be giving it out free to every student."

"Fine. Do what you want, pervert." Lexa stomped out of the kitchen and towards her room. She had hated the idea of topless duty when it was proposed, she had hated it even more when it was made law last year, and now that every week a magazine featuring a hundred topless women conscripted to flaunt their bodies like prostitutes in a magazine that was distributed nationwide, she hated it the most.

She had turned eighteen a few months ago. Now every time she checked her post, she was terrified of receiving that fateful brown envelope. She knew the odds were in her favour, she knew that, out of over twenty seven million women in the UK, her chances of selection were infinitesimal... but it had to happen to someone. Every month or so, a news report came out detailing that body image issues, mental health problems in young people, and even crime rates had plummeted since the law was introduced. She knew these were all good things, but she couldn't help but resent it. She wanted to keep her body private, was that really so much of a crime?

There came a knock on the door.

"Lexa, are you okay? Can I come in?"

Lexa sighed, knowing Shelly wouldn't leave until she'd been let in.

"Fine. Come in."

Tentatively the door opened and in came Shelly, still holding her copy of T.I.T.T.I.E.S magazine.

"I wanted to talk to you about this." She said, holding the magazine up so the cover was right in Lexa's face. On the cover was a rubenesque women who looked to be in her thirties. She was smiling coyly from the page with her arms crossed over her bare chest and a thin red skirt was draped gracefully over her hips. She looked undeniably beautiful.

"I hate that stupid magazine, get it out of my face."

"You keep saying that, but have you actually read it?"

"What's there to read? It's just pictures of tits?"

"You know what I mean. Have you taken the time to just look through it and appreciate what it is?"

"It's porn. It is government mandated, objectifying, sexist porn."

"That's not true at all. It's not sexist, it's not objectifying, and there may be some erotic element, but it's not just porn."

"Then why are women only conscripted? It's because the law was written by a group of dirty old men who think women are just sex objects to ogle. If there was another version for shirtless men, it would be fair, but even then, it's still wrong. The government has no right to **** me or anyone else to show my body to the world. I don't want every drunk lad from the bar picking up a photo of my naked body. It's not right."

"You know the idea was proposed by a female comedian." Shelly was sounding exasperated now. "It features women because they are the real target audience. For centuries women always suffered the worst from abstract and impossible ideals that damaged their confidence so much, it's meant to show women of all backgrounds, ethnicities and body types in a positive and healthy way. It's not over-sexualised, really, it's just boring old nudity. You know what? Look. Let's look at a random page."

Shelly set the magazine down on Lexa's desk, open to a black-and-white picture of a skinny Asian woman sitting in an office chair looking stoically at the camera. She wore regular business attire including a pencil skirt up to her waist, but above the skirt, she was completely bare. She had an air of authority about her, and a piercing gaze that was intimidating even though her small breasts were exposed.

In the top left corner of her picture was a minimalist description of the model herself:

'Lin Yang, 31,
Business consultant from Bristol

Photographer: Andrea Morgan'

"So the publisher had a fetish for Asian businesswomen, what am I supposed think?" Lexa said bluntly.

"Try and be a bit more open minded." Shelly said encouragingly. "Look, this isn't just smut, there is actual art and meaning behind this. She looks confident and assured, if I had to start a negotiation with her I would be scared. I already respect her and I've just seen the photo."

"You're just making it up, besides, how many people would have that interpretation when they could just wank over tits?"

"More people than I think you realise, but since you mention it, let's talk about her breasts."

Lexa glared at Shelly, but said nothing.

"I had barely developed any hint of breasts by the time I was seventeen. All my friends had much larger bosoms and I felt insecure. I thought that I was unattractive and I hated myself because the only boobs I ever saw in magazines, on TV, or anywhere, were all large and full. If someone had shown this picture to me, I wouldn't have believed how sexy and confidant one woman could look with a small chest. It would have made those few years much easier for me."

"That's easy to say now, you're what, at least a c-cup? I've been flat chested all my life and I don't feel any better about this picture."

"I got a bit bustier last year, but the point still stands that I think this picture and others like it would have made me feel a lot better about myself just a couple of years ago."

Lexa didn't say anything. The girls just sat in silence for an awkward minute. Eventually Shelly stood up and said, "I'm going to leave that there," she pointed to the magazine, "please go through it at some point, it might change your mind." With that, she left, leaving Lexa feeling annoyed and frustrated by herself.

Eventually, she decided to get some work done opened a report on her laptop that was due in a few days. She worked quietly for a while,but every few minutes, the magazine caught the corner of her eye. It was still open on the page of the Asian woman, staring at her, Lexa felt like she was being called a coward or challenged in some way.

"Fine." She muttered to the picture. "I'll take a look."

She picked up the magazine and sat herself down on her bed.

Page 1:
Jill Farewood, 25
Teaching Assistant from Hartlepool,

Photographer: Andrew McCarol

Jill had bright red hair and heavy freckles, which continued along her arms and down her rather full figure. She was surrounded by toys and books for small children and she was smiling warmly at the camera. Despite her youth, she looked like a caring figure and Lexa couldn't help but trust her. Her breasts were large and Lexa could easily see stretch marks on them, matched by similar marks on her arms and at the base of her belly. But despite all this she still looked great, almost as if her stretch marks were like tattoos or body paint, put on deliberately to accentuate her appearance.

"I guess she does look good." Jill thought as she flicked over to the next page.

Without realising it, Jill became engrossed in the pictures, she paused over every picture, each woman had a distinct aesthetic that conveyed a kind of personality. Despite that, the thought of posing topless was no less terrifying to her, and the wide range of breasts in the pages barely made her own insecurities about her small breasts any better. She couldn't quite convince herself that there was more motivation to this than just distributing as many tits to the world as possible; however, she couldn't deny one thing that Shelly had said, the photographers were great at their job.

Deciding it was too late to do any more work, Lexa put the magazine aside and got ready for bed. She couldn't get the images of the topless women out of her mind, even so, there was one last thought going through her head as she drifted to sleep, "I'll probably never get chosen, so I don't need to be so worried."

The next morning, she received an email from the campus post office, she had been sent some mail and had to collect it. The magazine from last night flashed into her mind, but she dismissed the thought.

She lazily showed her ID to the porter and he went off to get her post. He came back with two envelopes in hand, one was a neat dark brown envelope with her name in what she recognised as her mother's hand writing. The second was a larger sandy brown envelope with a window displaying her full name and address at the head of the letter. On the envelope was printed in bold letters, words that sent a shiver of anxiety down her spine, "Important Please Read."

"It's just a bank statement." She told herself. But she couldn't help the feeling of unease. She hurried back to her accommodation block almost jogging. Her hands were shaking so much she could barely fit the key in the lock.

Finally, she sat on her bed, throwing her mother's letter aside and staring nervously at the ominous letter in her hands. She knew there was no point in putting it off. Clumsily she opened up the envelope, it was sealed so tightly that she had to rip it several times to get it open.

Pulling it out she read,

"To Alexa Smith,

you are summoned for topless duty. Please report to your nearest Department of Health Studio at 9.00 AM tomorrow, you must bring a valid form photographic ID for security purposes. If a different studio would be more convenient for you, please contact the help desk phone number below immediately. If you believe you have an exceptional circumstance preventing you from attending please contact the help desk phone number below immediately."

She dropped the letter and screamed into her pillow. Why? Why, of all the women in this fucking country did she have to get chosen?