I think our attitudes towards nudity are weird. Among them, we find: embarrassments, insecurities, sexual inclinations (which is actually not so weird); anxieties, expectations, disappointments, fascination, exploitation, curiosities, pride, disgust, obsession, nausea, uptight moralities, hang-ups, confusion, laws, shyness and the list is long. Why do we have such a strange relationship with our bare bodies? I mean, we are all naturally naked underneath; aren’t we? So what’s the problem?
We all know that the technical explanation for nudity is: the state of being unclothed and that naked explains: the state of nudity. I’m sorry to inform you, but that’s pretty much where the simplicity ends and confusion begins. Not much about our naked bodies goes down easy from this point on and I really think that’s a shame – to some extent.
All this nakedness starts rather innocently. We are born unclothed, stay naked a few minutes and then we are stuffed into blue or pink and some even get a beanie on top. From that moment on, we will cover up this innocent nudity the biggest chunk of our lives; and isn’t that a pity?
Babies cannot be any cuter when lying on a soft blanket in all their glorious nakedness; their cute, rounded behinds, red faces and adorable smiles, the drool and happy giggles. We fully embrace those innocent moments (sigh).
Now, if you picture that cute baby’s great-grandmother posing nude on that same blanket, drooling, red-faced (due to gas, no doubt) and giggling for no apparent reason, wouldn’t that seem a bit awkward to you? I thought it would. And don’t you think it’s weird we feel that way? The baby is naked, and great-granny is naked, so what’s the big difference?
Okay, I admit it’s a different look, but isn’t nude and nude the same? Of course it’s not, because society has accepted naked babies as being cute and great-grandmother Caroline’s nudity to be disturbing – we can only hope she was a bit drunk; the great-grandmother, not the baby.
We are the only species covering up by getting dressed. It is primarily to protect ourselves against the elements. As an example: Eskimos do not wear Speedos or bikini thongs in their natural habitat; only when vacationing in Hawaii.
There are billions of ways we dress to cover our nudity; layers upon layers of clothes depending on the occasion, season or reason. We dress in ways to show off our bodies, not particularly our naked bodies, but our body shapes – which will get vivid imaginations going – and are intended to do so, for the most part. Some are proud of their bodies and want to show them off, and there are plenty who wants to take a look – or three; I have no problem with that – do you?
Though we cover up a lot of skin, a lot of skin is also voluntarily being exposed to us; bits of nakedness. Low cuts and cleavage, snug short skirts and tight jeans, body-hugging outfits that underline the naked shapes underneath. We see Speedos and thongs on the beaches, with not much left to the imagination. But we stop in our tracks if those little scraps of fabric blow off. But really, what’s the difference? Well, the difference is rather big for some.
The moralities of decency most of us were brought up with caused us to become violently sick if we saw a naked parent or two. I mean, what could be worse? - You tell me… Okay, seeing great-grandmother Caroline on that blanket might top it. The things we were taught about nudity, presented us with a very confused relationship with our own bodies; what we could do, show and “those” parts to keep undercover at all times. And then we matured and became a bit more relaxed – or did we?
To some extent we like watching naked people – if nothing else (hubba hubba), we are guided by simple curiosity. This watching thing is based on sexual preferences for the most part. But we are also very selective (discriminating?) as we prefer that near perfect body over the weight & age-challenged and what not.
Though we are fine watching naked people, we don’t want to be watched in our birthday suits, do we? We find it inappropriate and utterly uncomfortable and perhaps nauseating for some. But what is it precisely that makes it so weird?
We have this belief, obsession if you will, that we must not, should not and legally cannot liberally show our naked genitals or those female breasts (dang it) to just anybody, other than partners, wives, husbands, doctors and what else you have under the umbrella of consensual peeking. We feel utterly uncomfortable when strange people run up to us to show off those parts of their bodies, going: “see what I got – na na na na na na”, while you are frantically trying to call 9-1-1 (or your mother); somewhat the backside of frontal nudity, if you ask me – because I’m not so sure why that is.
For some awkward reason I feel that we have been taught that those “private parts” are not called that for nothing – they are as private as anything gets. Don’t you find that a bit weird – really? Those things are just “parts” of our bodies, so why is it that we are hell-bend about nobody getting a peek, other than the aforementioned group of people?
When I was in school back in 1822, we had to shower together after gym; me and some 40 other boys. I did it only once and then I refused to ever do it again. I was 8 at the time and due to my heavy pleading to the principal, I was finally granted group-shower immunity. I told her that I was so weirded out seeing all those little wieners swinging back and forth – and a few had even curly hairs on them. My Mother was with me; she told me years later that the principal had laughed so hard.
The point is, that whatever values of decency or morality I was given early on, just the sight of somebody else’s little penis, grossed me out and made me feel utterly uncomfortable; in retrospect, was that good? Shouldn’t it have been: It’s as natural as is?
I appreciate (most) naked bodies. I have always found gratitude in the human and especially the female-human shape and form; and NO it’s not like I’m constantly exposed to some or get in a position to be exposed to such. In Miami Beach, Venice Beach and many such places, as well as in movies, it’s the occasional hot female body strolling by. In art, naked females have been featured for a few thousand years. I have always observed in a celebratory fashion – and for the most part without serious drooling.
I’m fine with nudity; the naked truth about it and all. It’s not really that big of a deal. I believe we make it a much bigger deal than we actually feel it should be, but we are still cowering a bit behind laws and our bare insecurities.
I believe the naked truth is also that only a small number of people are fully satisfied with their own nakedness – even the ones I deem beautiful, men or women. Looking in the mirror, very few go: “WOW that is hot…” I often do that WOW thing, but it’s quickly followed by: “I gotta do something about that…” Sounds familiar?
Overall I’m okay with what I see, as I actually do something about it. That my fitness club visits, long walks with the dog and trying to eat healthy, doesn’t shape me into a more acceptable body, is okay - it really is.
But, do I appreciate nudity enough to accept the vision of great-grandmother Caroline, drooling and giggling, with a body that clearly has lost the fight against gravity? Nah, I think I’ll pass – wouldn’t you? But otherwise, when she’s sober, she’s a really nice lady.
See you next Sunday – yes that’s right. Next Monday I’ll be on a plane to Europe that does NOT have Wi-Fi. So this will break a streak of 70 Mondays in a row, publishing new posts – dang it… I hope it’s not going to ruin your day, huh?
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