Paid the best compliment recently:
"I like* how comfortable you are with yourself."
*like-love, don’t exactly recall the word
That it was said while fully naked in bed, and directed to me, made it a lasting ah-ha, life affirming and period-at-the-end-of-the-personal-growth moment.
There was a time I wouldn’t buy a top without sleeves. Can you imagine not being able to shop with abandon as the cute camis and strappy dresses passed by? Even on the hottest day of summer, I wouldn’t dare show my upper arms. Bat winged and fleshy, so many women are inclined to keep that under wraps. I see it in the ladies at the gym who choose oversized, probably mans size L or XL tees, shoulder seams droopy and sleeves hanging to near elbow.
I wear Old Navy cotton tanks. Have drawers full of them.
Used to wish I was a girl that could throw on shorts and flip flops, a little cotton tee or tank and run around all summer. But shorts cut me funny; I go for a kicky capri or snappy tunic and sheer sundress over leggings. Shorts on the wrong body type give the illusion of crotch eating fabric, taking bigger bites with each step. I have two pairs of shorts in my closet. One a khaki-ish mid thigh with frayed edges I wore snug in heavier days that now hang lower as the day progresses. Still, comfy and utilitarian. The other one of my first thinner purchases, an INC bermuda sporting tiny white and gray stripes, the fabric pattern called “Fruit Stripe” (think the gum). I like those shorts, mostly because I clearly recall the moment in Macys I first zipped into them.
Funny the things we hide and cover up, the things we believe bright spotlights shine upon. The chin rash is slowly clearing, thanks to steering clear of makeup most days and one more week on antibiotics that bring queasy mornings, every morning. Thank goodness for Panera Bread strawberry yogurt smoothies, small piece of baguette on the side; drat that crusty bread is the only thing that settles the urp. I’m feeling a bit Stay Puft Marshmallow Man around the middle.
Still he liked how comfortable I was all-the-way naked. He said later he liked me naked. Later still that he loved (yes, definitely love not like) something I can do while naked.
Being naked approaches being revolutionary; going barefoot is mere populism.
- John Updike