I'M NAKED

It was a typical Saturday morning. I was at Heirloom, eating a biscuit sandwich and writing in my Fortune Cookie journal, and I watched as a young family came in, a mom, dad and a little girl who was maybe three. She was carrying her baby doll while Mom carried a basket of Shopkins. They settled in at a table in my eyesight and I watched as the mom peeled the child’s sweater off, hearing the crackling of static as it came over the kid’s head. The little one’s hair stood out, charged with electricity and she yelled out “I’m naked!” The mom chuckled and then calmly responded “You are not naked. You have on a t-shirt.” But the little one insisted. “I’m naked!” She proceeded to randomly let all of us know that she was naked as she colored and stuffed bits of cinnamon roll into her little mouth.

Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure that doll she came in with was also naked but then I started to really relate to this kid.

“I’m naked” is just another way to say “I feel vulnerable.” I am naked. I feel naked. I can feel my nakedness under these clothes and sometimes, okay … a lot of the time, it makes me want to put on more clothes. Some of this stems from being two months into the year and still not back on my usual moving routine. I can feel my skin actually touching my clothes and have been conditioned to believe that skinny girls do not allow this to happen. I have also been conditioned to believe that I will never be a skinny girl. The “I feel vulnerable” side to all of this is that I have put myself out there for some things that’s a little outside my comfort level. There’s book club where I reveal hidden wishes and an art show that got bumped to September but where I noticed that I am the only photographer in the line up. I continue to wear a shoulder strap that forces my heart to be open. One of my so called ‘bad girl’ wishes is to take some nude pictures of myself and others. I am full into a I hate my body moon phase. Probably because I’m not lifting weights or training for a marathon or doing any of the things this capitalist fitness industry says I should be doing. I refuse to fall for the “Eat this to lose weight!” click bait, but only barely. This is perfect timing for taking off all of my clothes and taking pictures of myself.

Pile on the vulnerability!

Recently, I dreamed that my friend Sarah Fox and I bought matching jumpsuits. I was in love this thing. It was high waisted with wide legs and a sexy deep v type of halter top. It was perfect, except for the whole halter top thing. I don’t know how Sarah didn’t have this problem, but my halter top would not stay in place and every time I looked down I’d have a boob peeking out from this way or that way. I was constantly tucking myself back in. We were on some kind of roadtrip and we were on a road that contained epically stunning views at every curve and hill top. At one point, I noticed that Sarah was asleep at the wheel and I said “Hey, Sarah. Wake up.” and then we laughed and laughed about it for miles. Our lives where clearly in danger but we didn’t care. In fact, we found it hilarious.

Every curve and hill, a stunning view.

Exposed and vulnerable and finding it all to be immensely hilarious.