As many of my faithful readers know, I hate the heat. What’s more, I hate the humidity. In addition, I hate clothing. I know, that’s a lot of hate in one paragraph, but bear with me. Or, bare with me, as it were. If I were a believer in the Bible, I would curse out Adam and Eve for biting the damn apple that made them realize they were naked and caused them to scramble for fig leaves.
However, I do not believe in the tale of the Garden of Eden, so instead, I will vaguely curse whatever repressed traditions and customs that force us to wear clothing. Hm. That’s not nearly as satisfying as cussing out Adam and Eve, but it’ll have to do.
Let’s put aside the politics of the female body and how it is used to sell products. Let’s put aside how the new feminism means exploiting your own body and saying it’s grrl power, even though yes means nothing if you can’t say no. Let’s put aside how it would be so much easier to gauge which guys are engaging in dick fights if we were all naked (and, it would hopefully put to rest lots of the ridiculous macho posturing that guys like to do when they are insecure about their penii).
Instead, I want to focus (I just wrote fuck there. I have no idea why. I mean, yes, I want to fuck, but that has nothing to do with being naked. Or rather, it has nothing to do with my current nakedness. But I digress) on the fact that naked just feels better. I sit here blogging in the nude. It is a humid, sticky day, and I keep the air conditioner set rather high, for conservation sake. I am thinking of lowering it, but until I do, I sit in a pool of my own sweaty stickiness, uncomfortably aware of just how miserable I am.
In the summer, I walk around the house in a pair of boxers and a tank top. I pull my hair up into a high ponytail or into a sloppy bun. I turn on the fan when I get really overheated. In addition, I get heat rashes because I have really sensitive skin. A person who lives in Texas e-mailed me today (hey, Keith) and said that it was 97° there, but not too hot.
What. The. Fuck?????? I am wilting if it gets over 70°, and he’s manning up in nearly 100°? God, that takes a lot of balls–which, obviously, I don’t have. Literally or figuratively.
Ahem. Anyway. Back to nakedness. I chafe when I am wearing clothing. As a big-breasted gal, I have to wear a bra outside the house, but I am always aware that I am wearing one. It doesn’t matter how comfortable it is–it’s still Very Much There. I mostly wear outer clothes from Taiwan. I have my mom bring them to me when she comes for a visit. They are perfect for summer because Taiwanese people know how to make hot weather clothing, but they still irritate me. Hell, when it’s hot out, my skin fucking irritates me. Oh, and I am allergic to mosquito bites, so they swell up to the size of…well, big.
Anyway, back to clothing, lack thereof. Normally, at home, when I get hot, I take off the tank and try to deal. Right now, though, I’ve had enough. I’m nekkid as the day I was born (except for the tats, the glasses, the rings, and the earring) and it feels good. There is something about being in my own skin and nothing else that is freeing. I can’t hide anything, obviously, nor do I feel the need to hide anything.
In Europe, it’s common to have nude beaches and stuff. They, apparently, don’t have such a Victorian mentality to the body. I wish our country would follow suit. If we were allowed to be naked in public, it would strip some of the mystique of the human body. I mean, the body is used to sell everything from cars to deodorant (ok, I lied about not mentioning it), and yet, some people freak out if women breast feed in public or if one of Janet Jackson’s pasty-covered nipples pops out on the teevee machine. Yes, I am still bitter that I chose that moment to go get a snack.
In this country, we view the naked body as sinful. It’s something that needs to be hidden, or else exploited. Either we should be ogling the female form in sanctioned venues like beauty pageants and at Hooters, or we should be spared the indecency of a baby nursing. Why? I have no clue. Maybe because it’s a reminder of what the boob’s function actually is.
But I digress, yet again. The point for me is that there is nothing inherently sinful or shameful about the human body. I know many people and religions would disagree with me, but fuck ’em. I like to walk around the house naked, but I don’t feel comfortable doing that while it’s still light out, for obvious reason. I think if we as a society could just chill the fuck out over nudity, it would do us a world of good. Yes, I know it’s just a fantasy, but a grrl can dream, can’t she?
So, for all you bloggers out there, I declare tomorrow nekkid blogging day. Join me! Shed your clothes and blog.