Oh no! Page Six says Levi Johnston has reached the inevitable size-anxiety portion of his pre-Playgirl mental training, making this the perfect time for some thinly-veiled lies about why we will love him even in the event of ugly wiener.

What if it's too small?
 Grower not a shower, baby. This was the same strategy that got your kid's grandma halfway to the vice presidency. Sure, her resume was distressingly short, and her intellectual prowess a bit thin, but everyone said she was a quick study. It's all about potential.

But, like, really small?
 Blame it on the weather. Page Six is already doing this for you, noting that "one location for the shoot is a chilly ice rink."

What if this hurts my chance at getting custody of Tripp?
 Sure, work in the adult entertainment industry may at times seem like a reason for revoking custody—Sarah Palin thinks so, and so does Sandra Bullock. But you're a teenage high school dropout with no wage-earning skills to speak of and, if we had to hazard a guess, not much by way of savings. Any level of legally-acquired financial security is going to be a boon here. Also, though Tripp's very existence proves that physical maturity does not always pair itself with mental or emotional maturity, our Pavlovian response to "Levi's manhood" might turn into some sort of subconscious message-making conceit at some point.

What if my mom sees me?
 Oh, honey. They don't have Playgirl where your mother is. Just tell her you finally got that job on the oil rig.

What if it gets gay?
 Well, we already know you're OK with a little bicuriosity, but a good old fashioned "no homo"—plus a dash of anatomical ambiguity—always helps:

Levi's manager, Tank Johnson [sic, it's Jones], tells Page Six, "We haven't had any discussions of that nature at all," and refused to confirm whether Johnson would go full-frontal during the shoot.

See? Already troubleshooting like a champ. Now drop those pants and start posing!