I’m a child who grew up with some really inappropriate (by today’s standards)…..how do you even say it? My parents took me to really wild places when I was little.
In light of Hugh Hefner’s passing, I immediately thought about the trip my parents took me on when I was 8. We drove from Chicago, IL to Geneva, WI to visit the Playboy mansion. No, I’m not kidding, isn’t that hilarious? Am I a traumatized victim with odd sexual habits? No. So this isn’t a confession of some terrible childhood tragedy. This isn’t a testimonial of repression, oppression, or abuse. My dad read Playboy. He loves women. He loves me. I’m really OK with that.
I don’t know that I ever realized how beautiful the female form could be, until that trip. It created an awareness of how powerful a woman could be IF, she used her power correctly. There is a fine line between appreciation and objectification. I’m not for the objectification of women. I am all for the appreciation of the female form. But that is not what this post is about. This is about growing up in the 60’s and 70’s and laughing over my upbringing.
We swam in the very swanky Grotto pool. We toured the grounds with the Playboy Bunnies. They were really nice. We stayed in a room with a round bed, and satin everything. We had a blast at the Playboy Mansion.
Hugh Hefner, regardless of your opinion on him, lived life his way.