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A Queen's Agenda

13-jun-2002

Before my two bags of rice developed into the great rack they are today, I was ashamed of the parts of me that I thought weren’t man enough and humiliated by the ones that were.

I had the squeakiest voice in junior high, the hairiest legs, the skinniest limbs, the most pimpled back and, when I was around boys, the hardest dick. My body was torture. It betrayed me at a time when all I wanted was either to fit in, or to disappear.

For 10 gruelling years I was little more than a head, two hands and feet. After a good run on hardcore acne medication, I found park sex, which showed me how average I was. There were all kinds of dicks and all kinds of bodies with all kinds of foibles and I blended in. I belonged.

Then, like Supergirl donning her cape, I found Drag.

When you’re a 135-pound weakling, there’s nothing like putting on a dress to make men notice your figure is fabulous. Better still, take your dress off and wag your dick around—it does wonders for your body image.

Today, most friends think nudity is easy for me. My friend Robyn called not long ago to see if I’d offer my cock up as a model for some ‘penis clothes.’ At first, I told her she was crazy; I’m the last person she should call.

“But, Cookie,” she said, “you make porn.”

Well, that’s true. Because I know I'll lose my anxiety a lot quicker showing off my ass than sitting on it, I get naked. On the beach, at parties, on stage, in magazines. Being candid has forced me to own my sexuality, despite what people may think. Really, it’s the same principle that helps us come out. Pleasure over fear is my new motto.

I now show and tell everything, every dirty little secret, because it releases me from the lonely grip of self-loathing. I say, “One time, when I tried too hard, I threw up on this guy’s dick,” and five people in the room jump at the chance to tell similar stories. That’s what I offer you, sexy reader. I promise to lay bare the ins and outs of our sex culture as I experience it. We’re going to talk about everything we don't want people to know. We're going to wring the neck of shame, roast it and make it a meal. We're going to get comfortable.

I expect the prudes and Gap-camouflaged homos to dismiss me. Another sex column in Xtra West. Whatever. Let their prudish fingers wag. I'm a sex advocate, an anthropologist, plumbing the depths of our psyches, culture and bodies.

So I stand before you, a shrinky-dinked, hairy-assed, heel-wearing, MACed-up, wigged-out, sex-ready, unapologetic queen. Miss Cookie LaWhore, sexhibitionist, announcing her mission: to help us all fuck more freely.

Miss Cookie LaWhore wishes to thank Billeh Nickerson, who's hard everywhere but at his core. Look for Miss Cookie's column here monthly.