Covid Chronicles

Covid Chronicles: Isolation Day 11

Do you know what’s great? Being naked. What is even more great is being naked, where you can see out, but the world can’t see in. It’s like a dirty little secret with yourself. 

When I was ushering a gig at the Wellington Town Hall, I was paired with someone who suggested I do modelling for life drawing classes. ‘But I’m not all skinny and svelte, who would want to see me naked?’

‘Neither am I’ she retorted, ‘But artists like the challenge of curves. I was in the class one day and the model didn’t show up. The teacher asked if anyone wanted to volunteer. I saw my hand go up, and I said ‘Me!’ before I could stop myself. I undressed under the table, and do you know it was the single most exhilarating experience of my life!’

19 year old super-Christian me tried to hide my shock. Swan about nude for strangers? Who would do such a thing? I was intrigued though. 

‘It’s not a sexual thing, it was just real, raw, honest. Natural. It was brilliant. I do it all the time now.’

Why did I feel like I now needed this on my bucket list?

‘You should try it some time!’ 

I’ve been a swimmer for a long time, and I have seen my fair share of naked bodies. Not in a pervy way, in a perfunctory, that’s what happens when you go into a changing room and have communal showers kind of way. Do you know, I don’t know that I’ve actually ever seen a naked body I genuinely thought was ugly. Naked bodies are lovely, particular if you have the privilege of being female. There’s a simplicity, a grace to them. Clothed bodies… well they’re more difficult to beautify, but naked bodies are radiant, sumptuous. We should be naked more often. 

I remember sitting on Bondi Beach in Sydney in 2009, looking at the vast array of bodies. Sydneysiders are similar to New Yorkers in that they don’t take shit from nobody, and are much more concerned with their enjoyment than the enjoyment of others, and nothing is going to get in the way of them enjoying the sun, sand and surf. There were all these shapes and sizes, with bumps and bulges hanging out everywhere, looking happy and relaxed, thoroughly, unabashedly, enjoying the beach. Sometimes just enjoying the moment is more important than wondering whether or not you look like a supermodel in the photos of it. 

I decided that if those people from all ages, stages, and walks of life could be so utterly comfortable and confident, then I as a nubile twenty-something probably could leverage from their confidence and apply it to myself. 

I don’t know about you, but it’s taken a long time to be comfortable in my own skin. And it’s a somewhat shaky resolve. A constant work in progress. Harder still when one does not conform to the beauty standards of the day.

Do you know the single biggest confidence booster I’ve had in the last little while? It might surprise you a little.

Turns out being in stirrups can be fun?!

We were in Prague over Christmas last year and just around the corner from that fancy clock in Old Town Square is a sex toys museum. We went in, just for a laugh, but I was quietly enraptured with the various contraptions to cure ‘hysteria’, including a ride-on dildo, like an exercycle, to a dolls house with scandalous things depicted in each different room, through to bondage of various flavours. 

I’m not sure the picture shows it very well, but the machine dips the tip into some liquid of your choice, then brushes whatever area is between the gap in the seat with the liquid-coated tip, there’s a handle to the side, so you can manually vary the speed.
Takes sex toys to a whole different other place
We are planning to really… fuck you up in battle?

Downstairs, there was a little theatre showing porn that looked like it was made in the era of silent films. There was a narrative of sorts, and the people – they were normal! The men were scraggly and scrawny, and the women were older, rotund, and their tits weren’t all perky and cute, nor were their butts tight and taut. Regardless, they were confident. Not despite their imperfect bodies, but because of their imperfect bodies – because they’d embraced them, and were living into all four corners of them. 

Much curvier than this, but you get the gist

It was in that moment of watching these mere mortals shake what their mother gave them, that I realised that ‘confidence is sexy’ was not just a platitude, but really the only worthwhile attitude to have, and my husband wasn’t actually some aberration for thinking I was sexy, and I should probably start believing my darling husband when he told me he thought I was hot stuff, not despite my curves, or because of them, but rather regardless of them. 

In other news, final covid test today. Bring on negative result! Hopefully 3 days to freedom…

And our hotel gave us a little gift!

I snuck out to get it…naked!

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