Naked

It is amazing to me, the difference between being nude and Naked.

I am a fairly relaxed person when it comes to my physicality. I often run around topless, or in just a cotton wrap, because it is comfortable to me. I understand this is not for everyone, so I only do this at home, but if the world were ready for it, I would mostly likely go grocery shopping in whatever state of dress I happened to find myself.

This is because when I am unclothed, I am not Naked. I am simply nude.

The difference in how exposed you feel. I can be completely bare in front of a stranger, tied and trussed for all the world to see and not feel Naked in any way. My body is merely the house for my Soul.

Naked is a vulnerability the comes from within, not from vestments. When you see past the careful layers of arrogance and indifference I have built up around myself, then I am Naked.

For example,

My roommate found me crying on the couch this morning. I was upset over a piece of fiction, and being caught with that laid bare made me feel utterly Naked and ashamed (two separate ideas that do not have to go together, but often do, because when you are Naked, there is no where left to hide). I accept a hug from him anyways, because he is a friend, and the fact that he was shirtless and I in just a cotton wrap was irrelevant, except in as much as it let me feel more of his skin, and I took comfort in the touch. My nudity is not what made me Naked, it was being caught emotionally raw. Our mutual nudity made it easier for me connect to the support he was offering, because I find skin to skin contact to be more solid, more real, more reassuring. The more of our skin that touched, the better I felt.

Until I realized that in his eyes, I was still naked. The emotional exposure was lost on him, but the availability of my skin was not. And immediately, my acceptance of his hug became an invitation to explore the body I had not cared to cover until then. My nudity became Nakedness, because my casual attitudes towards skin were pushed aside. My skin was made to mean what he thought it should mean, and in doing so, he made me Naked because he pushed past my personal barriers to make me vulnerable where I had not felt so before.

The transformation from nudity to being Naked can be such a horrible thing, a personal violation that passes completely unseen behind the eyes of the victim. This forced vulnerability is pushed on women (and I suppose men, I wouldn't know, I've never been a man) and it the reason so many women are pushing back to reclaim their bodies. When I am unclothed, I am not Naked until you make me Naked, and it is my right not to have to feel that way. You cannot take my skin from me and make it mean what you want it to. It is My skin, and it means to me what I want it to. To tell me otherwise is a gross violation of my personhood.

This is why women are taught not to wear skirts too short, or lipstick too red. Because our skin isn't allowed to say what we want it to, it says what society tells us it says. Until we change what society is saying, there is not skirt long enough, no street brightly lit enough, no person we can trust, because while not every man will say this to us, we have no way of knowing when we will suddenly be NAKED. And we are powerless to cover ourselves.

Sleeps

...I am rolling along on 4 hours of sleep.

Last night it was 6.

I don't know what's going on with my body, but it's like "Sleep? Nah- that stuff is for sissies." I really don't approve.

I don't think its a writing mania - I mean, I'm getting a lot of writing done, but I think that's more due to the influence of my writing partners than any biochemically silliness in me. I just... won't sleep.

Maybe it's just a weirdness of how the days fell out. We'll see what goes on tomorrow.

Too Big to see

So, I've felt strangely invisible all weekend.

I'm sure it's not really any more than usual, rather, it just being sensitive to it, but it seems like no one can see me. Drivers cutting me off, people stepping up to counters as if I'm not in line, being bumped into a run over and ignored everywhere I go.

And my brain keeps telling me it's because I'm fat. That people are trying not to see me, because they can't stand the sight of me.

I know this to be ridiculous. Yes, I am overweight, unhealthily so, but I have a very large frame to carry it on. I still have a waist, still have a definable female figure that is really quite attractive, if you're into a heavier set build. I'm personally not my own type, but that's just because I'm too athletic. Yes, I am too athletic for my own tastes. I like my curves exaggerated and compacted on themselves, like the world's most dangerous country road. I'm too long and leggy for my tastes.

Yes, long and leggy. With a fairly flat butt, and very generous boobage. And long wavy dark hair, and golden-green eyes, and a gorgeous tan.

But all I can think about is how I feel invisible, and how it must be because I'm too fat to look at.

I don't know where all this is coming from. I have never had body issues like this before. I've always hated being so big, but in a general way, and mostly because it means I can't find clothes period. Not because I'm too fat, but because I'm also too tall, too wide, too that much bigger in general than the rest of the world. I'm people the next size up, and nothing has ever fit me. 38" inseam, size 12.5 shoes (because 12 is too small and 13 is too big) 42 DDD bra - none of these things exist. If you're big in the band, you're clearly HUGE in the cup. If you're big in the foot, you clearly need 3" heels. If you're big in the waistband, you can't possibly need more than a 30" inseam.

I have never fit, and I never will.

So why do I suddenly feel so FAT?

Specifically, socially pressure induced FAT.

It can't possibly be just one asshole getting under my skin, right?