Τhe One About Nudity

I wish boys were like cats, so they could see in the dark, because any kind of action that requires my taking my clothes off in front of someone who is a) male, b) not a doctor, c) good-looking and, d) possibly interested in me – with the lights on is simply… killing me softly.

I’m not a prude, I swear. For example, as far as photography is regarded, I found nudity very beautiful. Same rule applies to movies – I could re-watch The Reader just for Kate Winslet’s nude romantic scenes.

And I also adore Lena Dunham for telling us the ‘naked truth’ from season one, episode one. I guess it was like sex on the first date; she doesn’t let you wonder whether she has more tattoos hidden underneath her quirky outfits. People make such a big deal about her baring it all, about her body which doesn’t fit conventional beauty standards, but it was a pleasant surprise seeing someone doing it instead of simply talking about it. Way to go girl!

Now, where was I? Yes, being naked. Let’s say, I think I’m a lot more beautiful dressed; I feel more self-assured.

Don’t hurry to pin it on being self-conscious of my naked body. Of course I am. I like to think of body-image as one of these rocky, melodramatic love affairs one reads about in books or movies; there are moments of infinite happiness, acceptance and care, as well as moments of denial and loathing. It’s an ongoing battle, I guess.

But that justifies only 70% of my refusal to part with my lace lingerie – or anything else that probably lays scattered on the floor by that point.

The other 30% percent could be due to that:

“When you put clothes on, you immediately put a character on. Clothes are adjectives, they are indicators. When you don’t have any clothes on, it’s just you, raw, and you can’t hide.”

- Padma Lakshmi, on being naked.

Nudity can make one feel insecure but not only in a body-issue related way. Nudity means being vulnerable, allowing the other person to peek underneath the painted veil, your shiny armor of clothes. It means having no disguise.

E. says that feeling comfortable in your own (bare) skin is relative, it depends on the person.

It might feel like kindergarten – if there were kindergartens for nudists; your mother kisses you goodbye and then you’re left afraid and unprotected. But someone is probably to approach you, talk to you and make you feel more comfortable. And if you deem you can trust them, you may then start to consider sharing your peanut butter-jelly sandwich with them at lunch.

This indispensable notion of trust in nudity is the reason why I don’t enjoy ‘raw’ nudity. As Garance Dore beautifully pointed out, “nudity has to be romanticized, or it has to be the nakedness of someone I love”. Reading her post on this subject was definitely inspirational. If I’m going to be exposed, I don’t want to feel judged.

Maybe judging our own bodies make us have a wrong impression of how others might perceive them.

Last but not least, I like how well men come in term with their nakedness. They set an example for sure.

What are your thoughts on nudity? Lights on or off?

F.

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