Nudity

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header photo via Unsplash!

Casual Nudity

People seem to have a range of attitudes and judgments about nudity: it’s natural, it’s sinful, it’s sexual, and/or it’s {un}comfortable being just a few.

For me, nudity is casual. It’s circumstantial: it’s choice-driven and/or heat-induced, it’s ‘normal’ in some situations and not in others, it can be sexual (but doesn’t have to be), and it was once very much my norm.

These days, not so much.

When my body was still {mal}functioning under the auspices of PCOS, my high levels of testosterone drove my ‘feels-like’ body temp sky high. I would sweat after very little exertion and I was blazing hot as soon as the mercury read 61 degrees.

Since my spouse typically felt, during those years, freezing cold if the thermometer was at or under 72 degrees, it created a bit of a conundrum.

So he layered up and I stripped off.

Which is why I have been — for the greater part of 20 years — both very casual about and comfortable with running around the house naked.

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Mail

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mailed card and envelope overlapped on a lace tablecloth

YOU’VE GOT MAIL

(not e-mail)

(and not the movie)

Do you send or receive mail? Real mail, with hand-written messages inside paper cards or on stationery?

I do!

And I love receiving it!

When I was very young, I started writing to one of my aunts — my mom’s sister — who was, at the time, away at college. We still correspond.

And my sister’s girls — my nieces, one of whom featured in last year’s A-to-Z — now write to me (their aunt).

Throughout my life I have also corresponded with other family members via post: my siblings, my grandparents (both blood family and family-of-choice), my cousins; (former) co-workers, friends, lovers… Etcetera.

I ‘owe’ letters to a few people right now, actually.

And there is just something really special about writing them that appeals to me.

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Llamas

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I like llamas.

Those of you who have been reading this blog for a long time will be aware that I have llama socks and that I wrap Christmas presents in wrapping paper sporting llamas on the design. Those of you who have been around for a long Long time might remember that one of the things I enjoyed when I first moved to the island I currently live on is that one of my fellow islanders once had a llama. And those of you who have been around for a long Long LONG time might remember that I have a collection of boots — some of them of the ‘cowboy’ variety — and that Tony Llamas might be something I’d like to have decorating my feet. 🙂

Other things you might know about me if you’ve been reading for a while — particularly if you’ve read my previous A-to-Zs — is that I collect things. One of the things I collect is salt and pepper shakers. Another thing I collect is cookie jars.

SO

Take one {1} tendency to like All Things Llama, and combine with {2} my collecting habit.

Shake well.

Mull while thrifting.

Remove approximately $17 from wallet.

And voila!

This is what you get!

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Knickers

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various underwear examples from Pixabay
image via Pixabay

I spent the majority of my 30s feeling uncomfortable if I wore underwear. I didn’t like the way the elastics bit into my skin; I disliked the cuts available; the lace scratched and the satin-y fabrics didn’t breathe.

So I just went without, both above and below.

But then — around the time I turned 40, when I started dealing with the first symptoms of menopause — I found that the opposite was true. My breasts became more sensitive (and not in a sexy way) and I could barely stand to have even the cottons of my tank tops to be directly against them. So I found some comfy-fabric bras and sporty bralettes and started finding comfort both {1} in the ‘held-in’ support they offered, and {2} the barrier they created between my shirts and my skin.

Between age 44 and 45, the same thing happened again. With the bottoms.

Suddenly going commando — which used to be the most comfortable thing for me to do — was fraught with discomfort.

At first it was dresses and skirts and quickly progressed to pants — especially denim. The ‘free’ feeling of having nothing underneath my jeans, and the sensual enjoyment of feeling the occasional breeze between the swishy fabrics of my dresses and receptive skin on my body was no longer enjoyable.

In fact, at times it was downright painful.

And the bare fact of feeling air against my bare buns quickly went from ‘ohhh’ to ‘OW’.

So I started wearing underpants again.

Comfortable underpants.

Knickers, as the Brits would say.

So these days, if you asked me to say ‘no’ to underwear, I’d respond: No Way!

How about you?

My theme for this year’s A-to-Z is Twenty(-six) Questions.

The question I answered above and now ask to you, is: What is your comfort level with wearing (or not wearing) underwear? And: Has your approach to unders changed over the years?