my first love was being naked

PUBLISHED 7 March 2009 13:45

I’ve never known real love. Well, at least not the kind most people think of. I loved many objects: blankets, dolls, stuffed animals, etc. …
My first true love, though, was taking my clothes off. When I was young, my parents found it hard to keep me clothed. I never understood why boys could take their shirts off but girls couldn’t. In the summer when it was hot, my dad and brother would have bare chests. I went along with it. It was so hot and the breeze felt so good. The constant coverage of my body drove me mad. Even in winter I often stripped down to my underwear.

My mom would tell me girls must always wear tops. I’d obey her until I forgot or used my toddler logic legitimize my nudity to myself. The only difference between me and the boys is hair and toys, right? Going through the family photo album, I realized just how often I was undressed. My sisters say they’re going to put all of these pictures on display when I graduate high school. They still tease me about it constantly. When asked why I was never wearing clothes I can only give this simple explanation: “I guess I just loved being naked.”

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