Naked and Blue Before the World

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An essay exploring what being naked is really all about
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Tara Cox
Tara Cox
2,497 Followers

Birthday suit. Nude. Naked.

Vulnerable.

I remember a time, back in my wild days. A gang bang to be honest. I was almost forty. I had born four children and my body showed it. Whether you call it, fat or big beautiful woman or thick as my boys there liked to, that was me. We had just screwed our brains out and as was often the case when I played with my boys there was a lull in activity before the next round. I wanted a soak in the sunken tub with the jets. I stood up...NAKED. At almost forty, with my muffin top of flab hanging from less than tight abs, with cellulite dimpled thighs, and who knows what other imperfections, I stood naked and proudly walked across the bedroom before half a dozen hot twenty-something guys to the bathroom. Like the Garden of Eden, I had no shame.

Yet just a few years later, I was alone. Shattered and afraid. I was separated from my husband and for eighteen months I remained celibate. Why? Because I was petrified of being naked with anyone. Oh sure, during those years, I had born another child. I had surgery and a massive scar to show for it. But I was no fatter, thinner in fact. What was truly different was inside me. My confidence was gone. After five years of walking down stairs in sexy lingerie and heels so high that I was afraid I would break my neck, only to be greeted with chuckles from my husband, I was gutted. I had tried so hard to save my marriage and I was left with deep scars that no one could see.

Even when I did break my celibacy and take a lover, the rule was clear...I don't do naked. I had a drawer full of lingerie from my marriage and I put it to good use. I especially covered my middle, my tummy. That muffin top and the scars. My lovers could pull the top down. Even though my breasts sagged a bit, I was proud of them. They had served me well, feeding my children and remaining relatively nice, especially as soft pillows upon which my lovers could lay their heads. My legs were always bare. For a woman my age I had amazing legs and loved to show them off to the world in mini-skirts. My bottom too, especially if a spanking was on offer, never had an issue going bare. But I clung to my sexy gowns and teddies even when snuggled close to sleep with a naked lover. For another eighteen months I hid behind them.

Then I met him. He was younger, way younger. I tried to hold the line with him too. I remember the conversation as we negotiated limits. I was adamant that full nudity was a hard limit with me. He said, "Not with me. You will be naked." Our first time together he won that argument. I was fully naked and revealed to another human being for the first time in over two years. And it felt pretty damned good. As we continued to see one another and play in BDSM clubs he kept pushing those boundaries. It culminated the night that he had me walk in nothing but my knickers (panties for Americans like me) and heels through the main hall to the kitchen. It was late in the evening and only a couple dozen of our friends remained in the club, but it was a hugely liberating experience for me. Even though he and I ended acrimoniously I shall always be grateful to him for not allowing me to continue to hide.

A few months later I went to another club with friends. This one much larger, louder and definitely more flashy. It was full of the 'beautiful' people dressed to the nines and looking to impress. Every cross, spanking bench, cage and suspension frame was filled with 'perfect', size zero, twenty-somethings. A Saint Andrews Cross came free; I was with a friend who was a complete master at flogging, my favourite indulgence. She asked if I would care for one. How could I possibly turn down such a pleasure? And I stripped down once more to nothing but my knickers and heels. I hung on that cross for twenty minutes or half an hour practically naked. With a room of two-hundred young 'beautiful' people and I did not give a damn what they thought of my larger, scarred body. My attitude was simple, 'if you don't like it, then don't fucking look.'

I am a member of the zoo and got the strangest invite the other week. Did you know that a group of tigers is called a streak? To raise money for conservation they are holding an afterhours event where you do just that...streak through the zoo. I am participating. I am exposing myself in a vanilla world too.

July 14th is National Nude Day of course...and I shall likely spend at least part of it proudly in my birthday suit. But as we celebrate it, I want to peel back the onion and think a bit deeper about what it means to be naked, nude with someone else and with ourselves.

I am a huge fan of the X-Men movies. Recently I saw the new one, Days of Future Past. And I learned something. I am Raven. Not the little girl that Charles knew and loved. Not Mystique, the anger-led lover and cohort of Eric. I am that fork in her road that could have led her to accept and revel in her differences. I am a different path. I spend most of my life walking around before friends, family and sometimes even strangers...naked and blue. By this I mean, I speak frankly, I hide nothing of myself. I take those risks that most are afraid to dare. I reveal my heart and mind to those in my world. And if they don't like it, they don't have to look.

Oh, I can still take on 'acceptable' human forms, be whatever I need to be in any given situation. I am and always have been a master at that...whether it be preacher's wife; or event organizer for celebrities, politicians and Dukes; or the stripper. I wore all those skins and more. But it requires huge quantities of energy to maintain those facades. To hide my true, blue inner beauty. I love Raven's quote in that film, "What's the matter, baby? Don't you think I look prettier like this?" So these days, I simply do not bother to hide most of the time.

In fact, the problem is those rare occasions when I simply MUST put on one of those acceptable masks. And even when I need to hold it in place for only a couple of hours, it drains my emotional reserves so much that I collapse into the safety of His arms the moment I can. For you see, He loves me blue and naked. The strong, intelligent and independent woman, the nurturing Madonna and His whore. I can be all of those things with Him...and more.

My greatest wish...that more people would choose to join me in being blue and naked. Mutant Power! I hope you will join me in celebrating National Nude Day on July 14th not by just revealing your physical body in all its (im)perfections but by sharing your true blue inner beauty with those around you.

Tara Cox
Tara Cox
2,497 Followers
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AnonymousAnonymousover 9 years ago
I love this.

you can get so much out of this story. The theme (not so much the nudity) resonates with me a lot. I just want to thank you for this amazingly great written story and hope it helps others, too.

Privates1stClassPrivates1stClassover 9 years ago
Thanks

Not all of us are beautiful without our clothing, but we can be beautiful inside, if we choose to. Your essay gives us something to think about. Thanks for posting it.

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