Trying to get naked

Last week, I had an entire day at home to myself. No pressing school work, my various compositional projects are all waiting for someone else to provide me with various things before I can move forward: a perfect day to do NOTHING–maybe watch some movies, and kick around the house.

It turned out to be a warm day. I got it in my teeny brain that it might be a cool thing to spend the whole day naked. Yes, naked. We have a lot of privacy, and both our neighbors on our right and left are gay, so they wouldn’t care seeing my white butt walk by from time to time in the back yard. And over our backyard fence is Queen Latifah’s second house. I doubt she’s there now anyway, and even if she were, she prefers women.

I stripped.

Holy moly, I am the whitest guy around. I looked down at my body. My belly. My cock. My legs.

I went to a mirror and spent some time looking myself over. I was slouching. Fix that. As John Hall always says: “Lift and separate.” MUCH better. Clothes hide the fact that we slouch and pooch (stick out your belly). Daniel has pointed out several times that when I’m pontificating about something in a group, I stick out my belly. I stuck out my belly as far as I could to see how fat my belly could actually be. Eeeeuuuuwwww! Now, pull it in. Much better. My trainer, Teresina, insists that all our exercises be done with your belly in: abdominal muscles engaged, so that they GROW pulled in, rather than grow pooched out.

Enough mirror time, I walked into the bedroom and immediately put on a T-shirt. NO! The game is you must be naked all day. Off with the T-shirt.

I walked out into the living room. The dogs were sitting on the couch looking at me with a kind of “What’s going on with the no-clothes thing, Dad?”-look in their eyes. I laughed and decided to go do some laundry. I’m flashing back to that old German nudist magazine from the 1950s that I inherited from a friend who died of AIDS, with all the pictures of blonde Germans playing volleyball in the nude. Men, women, boys and girls, all happy and all nude. I chuckled as I walked down to the basement. I found a pair of shorts on the floor an immediately put them on. NO! Take them off. Sheesh, it’s hard trying to stay naked. My belly pooched again. Get that belly IN. I sorted the laundry, naked. It was kinda fun.

As I went through the day, I realized that when you are naked all the time, your skin is always cool. The sweat is always evaporating in real time, not through your clothes.

I stopped in front of a mirror again. You’re slouching. Get those shoulders back. Our clothes hide our posture. I looked at my little bush above my cock. Why did evolution put that there? What is it’s purpose other than preventing your penis from sticking to your body. So, I trimmed it. Hmm, Much better. Hell, men trim their faces everyday, why not down there as well?

Another inconvenient aspect of being naked all day, is that when you sit in certain chairs, those chairs were designed for people WITH clothes to sit on. So, sitting on my Aeron chair puts a grid pattern all over my butt. Many chairs don’t let your butt breathe, so you sweat. Not comfortable. The best solution seemed to be to put a towel down on the couch or chair and that worked well.

Cooking naked, especially sauteeing or frying brings up real issues. I broke down and wore a denim (so butch!) apron while I cooked. My front was protected. By around 8 pm, I got tired of the game and put on some warm fuzzy lounge wear. My skin felt so much more sensitive to those clothes having been naked all day.

I realize that it would take a lot of work to really get used to being naked, but I think I just might try. Our clothes hide so much (besides our private parts), and seeing poor posture and poor body habits is important to our health, and knowing what our bodies really look like.