I used to hide my body under towels, bathing suits, and oversize sweatshirts. Now I prefer not to cover it with anything at all.
My skin is happiest when there is no fabric trying to bunch into its crevices. Deciding what to wear is a nuisance, and if I’m bloated, everything looks strained. If I have to pee quickly, it’s pleasant not having to unclasp, unbutton, or untangle. Sex is easiest without clothes.
I love being naked.
Luckily, I live on an acre of land and can walk to pretty much any part of the property without my white hiney and drained, breastfeeding boobs being spotted by human eyes (the squirrels can’t get enough). An unexpected delivery truck did once pull up the driveway when I was taking out the trash, my body unadorned with clothing — it was awkward.
I have no desire to join a nudist colony — I wouldn’t know where to look when talking to someone. But I do wish clothing never became a “thing.” At least in Southern California, where it is usually warm enough to make clothing optional. If we never became accustomed to wearing clothes, it wouldn’t be rude to stare at someone’s different-colored nipples during a debate about the weather.
Original publication NOV 3, 2015
Posted on NatCorn 31st August 2019
Reference to an article does not infer endorsement of any views expressed.