Naked Time

Maybe I should have titled this post Naked Rant, because that’s pretty much what it amounts to. I get in these moods sometimes, y’know? More and more lately, though I really don’t have much to complain about. Except the whole cancer thing, but even that isn’t worth complaining about. Mostly I’m pretty upbeat, but every once in a while something gets stuck in my craw and rant happens. Please bare with me…

So, anyway, recently a friend came to visit – actually, it was a layover on his trip to somewhere in the upper Caucasian states of America – and when he arrived, I jumped up to throw on some shorts.* I then answered the door, freshly adorned in stale boxers, and he came sweeping in – because that’s what he does, literally, he sweeps in like a colorful Mardi Gras float, all laughing eyes and lips a-puckerin’ – like he owns the place.

And because I had run to cover my nakedness, thus effectively giving over control of the situation, I found myself fully dressed within 45 minutes. The boxers just weren’t enough. My skin was burning from the shame.** I NEEDED to put on clothes!

It’s an interesting dilemma. One I have pondered many times over the years, but always dismissed as immaterial. Because, apparently, if one receives visitors, as host, one is expected to be welcoming and comforting. Being the only person naked, one just naturally assumes, is unwelcoming and discomforting. Thus, the host is obliged to “cover up,” so as not to offend the guests.

It’s standard Miss Manners etiquette. Kind of. I mean, it had its start LONG before she came along. The Puritans had a lot to do with it, and Queen Victoria, but it was Ms. M. put it through its paces almost a hundred years later. It’s that bitch’s fault. I’m sure of it. And it all comes back to shame. Even for the shameless. Yes, it’s THAT ingrained. And, no, it shouldn’t be immaterial.

Naked-Shame
Yeah, that…

The problem with this situation, you see, is that the whole idea behind nudism is to avoid and deflect negative stereotypes concerning nudity, and school the ignorant on the difference between being naked and being a sex-crazed monkey with overactive glands. Feeling “obliged” to put on clothes in one’s own home – one’s sanctuary, if you will – is a negative response. There’s an obvious disconnect here.

Now, I’m not saying that anybody who comes to my door should feel obliged to bare it all just to satisfy my own personal textile rebellion***. Many are obviously exempt from this admittedly biased reasoning: The mailman, the pizza delivery boy, girl scouts****, the exterminator*****, family members†, in-laws‡ and the Jehovah’s Witnesses all fall into this category, though that last one is debatable.

If, however, you are generally regarded as a “friend,” and possibly a “very close friend,” why should I have to jump up and get uncomfortable for you upon your arrival at MY house? Doesn’t seem very friendly to me.

I mean, think about it… really think about it… When I go to your house, I don’t expect YOU to get naked for me. The thought never even crosses my mind. Why would it? We’ve all been so brainwashed into believing nudity is an abomination in the eyes of almighty Jehovah, that we are willing to deny the fact that we would rather be naked than clothed. We’re self-closeted.

AdamEve
It all started with Adam and Eve. Harsh punishment for eating a stupid apple…

That and we never really want to be the only person in the room who’s naked. I mean, think about THAT for a minute.

See what I mean? We may say we don’t mind ‘throwing something on,’ but the reality is we DO mind. But we do it anyway, because YOU are our friends and WE are, apparently, disgusting perverts who should be ashamed of ourselves§. See how that works?

So, I don’t know. I just wonder if it’s too much to ask that a real friend would respect MY choices from time to time and shuck his or her clothes for a few hours, while under MY roof. I have absolutely no problem whatsoever hanging out clothed under theirs ALL the time!

Thank all the feral gods for Naked Sunday. Our own personal day of rest and observation. We even have a webpage devoted to it, but you’ll need to enter a password. It was necessary to keep the prurient curiosity seekers at bay. Doesn’t quite level the playing field, but it comes close. Even if there ARE still friends who won’t celebrate with us. We’re working on it.

Oh, and we had a great visit with our wandering gypsy friend. Not naked, but nice.

Maybe next time…

NakedSunday
Then there are those friends who DO!

The Obligatory Footnotes:

*Because I was naked, which I usually am if I’m home. Except for during certain frigid months when that’s just stupid.

**It must be covered! Oh, gawd! PLEASE COVER ME!

***FREE THE BITS! FREE THE BITS!

****Or, as we call them, cookie dealers.

*****Shame, really…,

†I’m not ready to open that Pandora’s box…

‡You’re welcome, Patty.

§Gawd what WERE we thinking?

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