Man uses the Nude Day holiday to expose himself to his family and friends.
I never celebrated Nude Day before. Even when I was younger and had a better body to flash than I do now, I wasn't the kind of guy who could just strip off his clothes and flash his cock to strange men and strange women or even to family and friends. I'd be too embarrassed. I'm no streaker, that's for sure.
Besides, married at a young age, 20-years-old, I feel as though I've been married all my life and, for sure, being married for so long has suppressed my adventurous desire to get naked to celebrate Nude Day. Seriously, there comes a day where you've been married longer than you were single. Suddenly, you feel as if you've been married all your life. Then, after my daughter was born, before doing anything stupid, such as driving drunk or cheating on my wife, I'd think what would my daughter say?
What would my daughter think? Would she approve of my behavior? Before I did something, I'd think that wouldn't make my daughter proud of her Daddy. I hate to say it and am saddened to think it, but being married and having a kid has stopped me from having any fun.
Now, that my daughter is grown and my marriage is, well, not much of a marriage, I feel as though I missed out on a lot of things. Oddly enough, I look at Nude Day as my one day to make a stand and to take back control of my life from my bitchy wife and my as equally bitchy daughter. I accept some responsibility for making them both bitchy, but I think they can't help themselves from being bitchy and from being bitches. They were born that way.
Now whenever I want to go anywhere or do anything, it's always two against one and I'm always out voted. Instead of going fishing or to a car show, instead of going bowling or to a ballgame, somehow we always end up at the mall buying shoes or going out to eat at restaurants, I'd never dine in myself, if I was still a bachelor, lived alone, and had control of my life. I can't remember the last time I got my way and did what I wanted to do. Always, I compromised. Always, I gave in to their wants and needs. Always, they never asked me what I wanted to do.
In the way of what the American Indians used to do, when a boy was of age and he'd leave the family teepee to go out into the forest to hunt, fish, earn his feather, and return as a man, I feel that I need to do that. After being emasculated by two women for so long, I'm tired of being made to feel like a squaw. It's obvious to me now that my wife and daughter don't like and respect men very much.
Getting naked is my symbolic gesture of showing that I'm a man. My wife would never understand my need to get naked, that's for sure. She gets dressed and undressed in the dark or in the bathroom. I can't remember the last time I saw her naked. If she was to have a tragic accident, God forbid, and her face was destroyed, I'd be unable to positively identify her from her body and from the naked sight of her.
I imagine the technician pulling back the sheet to show me my wife's naked body. I can just hear the technician at the morgue asking me to identify my wife's dead body.
"Is that your wife?"
"I dunno. This woman has tits. I don't remember my wife ever having tits. I mean, if she did, I don't remember seeing them, touching them, feeling them, caressing them, and sucking them. Lemme me see her shoes. She was always buying shoes at the mall and showing me her shoes. Maybe I can identify her by those."
"These are the shoes we removed from her," I imagined the technician responding.
"Yeah, those are her heels," finally now able to grieve over the death of my beloved wife or celebrate my final freedom, I can finally heal.
Nonetheless, if I was to get naked and celebrate Nude Day, I can just hear my wife scolding me to put on my clothes.
"Henry! What are you doing? Why are you naked? Where are you clothes? Go get dressed. Someone will see you."
That's not to say that I wouldn't celebrate Nude Day, if I could. Under the right circumstances with a couple of drinks under my belt and with the right people, a few naked hotties from work, a Nude Day celebration would be a fun and freeing adventure on the wild side. I used to joke about celebrating Nude Day and talk about Nude Day with the guys at the bar and we'd tell one another Nude Day jokes and laugh about some Nude Day pictures or videos we saw on the Internet, but that was the extent of my Nude Day celebration.
The most I ever did for Nude Day was to live vicariously through someone else celebrating the holiday. Yet, all of that changed this Nude Day. This Nude Day, it was my turn to celebrate. It was my turn to get naked.
In hindsight, maybe it was because I had lost my mind, when I lost my job, but I decided to celebrate this Nude Day by spending the entire day naked. What the Hell? For one day in the year, free of employment, I needed to be free of clothes, too. Call it being born again, call it taking back my manhood, but how else should one spend Nude Day, but naked?
I viewed my sudden need to get naked as my rebirth and as a way for me to experience something I never did before. I had never celebrated the Nude Day holiday nude and it was a daring plan to spend the whole day without clothes. Did I dare do it? Could I do it? Oh, yeah, just watch me!
In respect of my daughter and whomever else might wander in my house on Nude Day, I had never hung around my house naked. I never so much as hung around the house in my underwear or even in my pajamas and robe for that matter. My routine, always, as soon as I climbed out of bed, was to put on my clothes, a habit I learned from growing up with my single-mom, two sisters, no brother, and no father.