My son has recently (like VERY recently… THIS WEEK recently) started taking off his clothes, it started with his pants, and then I noticed him running around with his shirt half on, this looked utterly ridiculous so of course I had to pull out the camera, shake my head and tell him to leave this clothes on. That is when it struck me, who the heck am I to tell him to keep his clothes on while in the house? I am without a doubt one of the WORST people for walking around half naked to the point where I’ve started to worry about the future and that I’ll eventually have to cover myself up while in the midst of my son.
After having a bath/shower I enjoy lounging around in short silk nightgowns, why short? Because have you ever tried running after a kid with anything below the knee? I have and I ripped it right off from the shoulder straps, therefore any nightgown has to have either incredibly high slits or be short. I have simply ALWAYS worn lace and silk nightgowns since I was young, my mom wore them all the time, I thought it was glamorous and comfy and so I took on after her the art of being a lady lounging in silk, satin, and low cut gown that look like evening dresses. I personally dread the day my son has friends over for a sleepover and I have to stay clothed or wear a robe.
In the summer I wear a bikini top and daisy dukes, its hot here, like 100 degrees hot some days so the less clothing the better. I have never been ashamed of my body and have never been one to be embarrassed by it so I never covered up, maybe its because my parents were so “liberal” with strutting around half naked while I was a child. I can look back now and honestly think that it never bugged me, I can’t remember ever telling my mom to put something that covered more on, or my dad to for the love of God put on a damn shirt. The lifestyle never gave me a complex, and to this day I look back and wouldn’t have changed a thing about it. No they weren’t walking around butt naked in front of me all the time but there were times where yes I saw my mom’s white ass streak across the hallway from bathroom to bedroom, or my dad’s male silhouette against the fridge light as he crept down the stairs at 2am to get a drink of chocolate milk, in fact it was their casual responses that most likely nurtured me into not being ashamed of what I’ve got.
So excuse me while my son strips down and runs around the house in the buff, as long as he isn’t running around outside I could care less. In fact I’m pretty sure I’ll be right behind him in spirit (because at the moment it’s a little chilly in the house.)