You thrash about trying to kick off the socks about 3 hours after you went to bed. You’d been sleeping soundly, but you got tangled up in your jammies and it startled you awake. The waistband separates the top from the bottom and you’ve cut off the even distribution of air and heat.
So, you wear clothes to bed. Who am I to judge?
At the sound of your alarm, you leap out of bed and head into the bathroom. You warm up the shower and grab your bathrobe and get the coffee percolating. Back in the bathroom, you remove the bathrobe and jammies and jump into the hot water. You finish, dry yourself, and wrap in a towel as you had back to the bedroom to get dressed.
So, you keep covered moving about your home. Who am I to judge?
It’s mid-summer and you’re ready to refresh in the river. You throw on your swimsuit, shirt, and cover-up. Grabbing a towel, you remember your hat, sunglasses, and sunscreen, because that sun can be mean. You get down to the river, throw down your stuff and jump in. In your swimsuit and your shirt.
So, you’re fully dressed for swimming. Who am I to judge?
The soil is tilled and it’s time to plant the seeds. You’re in a slightly shaded area, which is good, because it’s scorching hot outside. You’re button down is clinging to your undershirt is clinging to your skin. Everything is sticky. Your undies have soaked through and have become one with your jeans, while your socks feel like they might never peel off your feet. Your sweat has nowhere to escape, failing at its purpose of keeping you cool.
So, you’re draped in layers of cloth to garden. Who am I to judge?
I sleep nude. I walk around my house naked. I prefer skinny-dipping and gardening in minimal to no clothing. I practice non-sexual nudity and nude recreation. I am a contributor to my community, family, and work. Like you, even though I had cradle cap and a booty, I wasn’t wearing anything when I was born.
So, I’m a nudist. Who are you to judge?
I am not offended when you show up at my door all dressed up, that my “Clothing Optional Beyond This Point” sign in my entry way never seems to cause you to choose the option, that you prefer to have mixed fibers clinging to your body when splashing about, that you don’t have the same practices as I have.
We’re all human. Who are we to judge?