NAKED POST

Let me just clear this up right off the bat. I'm not naked now, this is just a post about being naked that I thought of when I was in the steam room this afternoon at my gym. (I mean, I am half naked, but that's besides the point, it's hot, wearing a bra while typing is totally acceptable). Let's get started, it's Tuesday and I don't want to waste any time.

I've never been one for being naked, but I've always been one for partial clothing. There I said it. I'm awkward about being in my birthday suit (side note: my birthday is this weekend, feel free to send red velvet cupcakes and diamond rings in the mail...I won't be upset about the calories or heavy finger weight), I've never enjoyed walking around naked or taking my clothes off in front of people. I will walk around in my underwear, short shorts, bathing suit, bra, you name it, in front of just about anyone, but anything more than that has just always made me super uncomfortable. Until recently. I made a conscious decision a few years ago to become okay with being naked, if only around myself. At the time I was studying abroad in London and living in a flat in the center (centre, if you will) of the city with 5 other girls. At the very end of the trip I found myself at home alone in the flat, whose large living room windows faced a law firm across the street. I had just come out of the shower and I decided to take a walk through the living room, sans towel, and face the windows. The street was not wide and those stuffy English barristers had an interesting view that afternoon. I like to imagine Colin Firth (circa: Bridget Jones' Diary) sitting at his desk preparing a brief and looking out the window to see an awkward naked, American girl grapevining across her living room. He wouldn't know I was American, of course, but whatever.

I digress, the point is...I realized in the steam room today that I have successfully become much more comfortable with myself. I had no problem just lying topless in the humidity, not knowing if another woman was going to walk in or not. Granted, most of the women who use my gym in the middle of the day are old (not like 55, but like OLD, like pruny, getting-senior-discounts-since-the-80s old) and also tend to be fat. At first I had a really hard time not scrunching up my face and looking at them, exclaiming, "HOLY SHIT WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE THAT?!", but eventually I've started to appreciate my non-wrinkly skin more. It's both a little compliment to myself, and also a sad reminder that it's all downhill from here, and that I should probably try and be as skinny and hot as I'm ever going to be now, because someday some stupid kid born in like 2035 is going to be all googly eyed looking at me the locker room and say, "hey, lady, can you pull your tits up off the floor, they're trying to mop in here".

Gross.

A