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Naked at Home For a Week

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Our writer reports on her week cooking, cleaning and working at home in the buff.

Most people wake up in the morning and get dressed. Last week, I agreed to hop out of bed and not get dressed. I called it Naked Week.

I believe that a lot of things are better without clothes: Bubble baths, swimming under the stars, frolicking between the sheets. When it's time to cook dinner, scrub the tub or watch "The Big Bang Theory," I prefer to be wearing clothes.

I agreed to take it all off for a week in the name of journalism. At first, I was going to pass on the assignment. I had all sorts of excuses: How will I walk the dogs? What if the UPS man knocks on the door? It's too cold to be naked!

naked-at-homePhoto: Getty Images

But I decided that it might be fun and thought I could learn something so I signed on. For an entire week, as long as I was at home, I was naked. I wrote articles, interviewed sources, washed dishes, paid bills and watched TV all while I was naked.

There were things I refused to do naked: I avoided cooking all meals that might involve grease spatter (ouch!), and I skipped scrubbing the tub for a week because donning rubber gloves and getting down on all fours to scour grout while naked felt like the opening scene of an X-rated movie. I also postponed a project to pull out the carpet and install hardwood floors for obvious reasons. Of course, I got dressed to walk the dogs, run errands and meet friends for dinner.

I told a friend about the assignment while we talked on the phone. "Naked? All week? So, wait: You're naked now?"

"Yep."

"How does it feel?"

"Weird."

On the first morning of Naked Week, I was resistant. I was tempted to fake an internet malfunction so I could work in a coffee shop all week. I decided to start slow. The first morning, I wore an oversized t-shirt and socks. It took me a full 48 hours to take it all off. I wasn't naked for long when I decided that, for me, walking around the house au naturel felt unnatural.

naked-at-homeThe author in the kitchen where she prepared her meals naked -- No cooking though! She deemed that too hazardous. Photo: Jodi Helmer

I was like a teenage boy seeing breasts for the first time. I stared at my body. I was struck by all of the things I hadn't noticed before: New moles, new hairs, new wrinkles. I obsessed over my dry skin and applied lotion in an attempt to moisturize, poked at lumps and bumps that clothes kept covered and decided I was overdue for a pedicure.

"We don't grow up learning the value and uniqueness of our bodies," explains Rosie Molinary, author of "Beautiful You: A Daily Guide to Radical Self-Acceptance." "We're taught to be ashamed [of them]."

Even though being naked made me uncomfortable in my own skin, I was determined to focus on all of the good things about my body: Loving arms that cradled my niece just minutes after she was born, strong calves that helped me navigate trails on hikes with the dogs and hips that shimmied when I walked.

In between moments of appreciation, the focus shifted to all of the things I wanted to change. I wanted a flatter stomach, thinner thighs, stronger arms, perkier breasts.

I changed positions on the sofa to ones I deemed more attractive. I made excuses to curl up under a blanket. I took the dogs on longer walks and spent more time with friends because I was "allowed" to wear clothes.

"Fixating on this roll, that wrinkle or this line isn't productive," Molinary says. "For every hour we spend looking in the mirror and counting our freckles or obsessing over our weight, it takes time and energy away from what we were meant to do in the world."

I know that she's right. While I worried about dry skin, cracked toenails and jiggling flesh, I could have shared intimate moments with my partner, soaked in a bubble bath, watched the "naked episode" of Seinfeld or called an old friend and reminisced about the time we left our bathing suits on shore and swam in the lake. Instead, I covered up. I counted the minutes until the naked experiment was over because there was something awkward about resting a bucket of suds on a naked thigh before setting it down to mop the floor or folding pants while wearing none. I found it downright comical when I stood in front of the fridge and searched for ingredients for dinner while staring at a cantaloupe and cucumbers! (Yes, being naked gave me the mindset of a prepubescent tween).

In an attempt to understand the reasons some people are more comfortable naked, I researched nudists.

Although there are no comprehensive statistics about the number of nudists (also called naturists) in the U.S., I think it's safe to guess that it's not that common. Even in my uber-liberal home and native land of Canada, just 2.7 million Canadians have a "nudist mindset," according to the Federation of Canadian Naturists (FCN).

Both FCN and the U.S.-based Naturist Society define nudism/naturism as being naked in a communal setting. I'm not sure that I'll book a vacation at a nudist resort or invite friends over for a naked barbecue, but I do love their take on the benefits of living in the buff.

According to the FCN website, naturism "promotes wholesomeness and stability of the human body, mind and spirit, especially through contact of the body with the natural elements...Children in naturist families learn to appreciate the body as part of their natural environment. They grow up with healthful attitudes and accept the physical nature of both sexes and all ages without fear or shame."

It sounds like a state we should all aspire to. If Naked Week taught me one thing, it's that I need to work on being more comfortable in my own skin, even if it is in dire need of moisturizer. I might start sleeping naked or doing the weekend crossword puzzle in the buff. But for now, I'm off to put on some pants.

Jodi Helmer is the author of
The Green Year: 365 Small Things You Can Do to Make a Big Difference and a frequent contributor to ShelterPop.

Do you have a personal story to tell? Share it on our Facebook page, and don't miss these great stories:

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