NEKKID

I should have known there was something wrong when Casey Pryor asked me to go to prom.

There really was several wrong parts to that; I had no idea that he even knew I existed and, even if he did, why me? Up until that day in High School I had been a pariah. Yes, hard to believe but being overweight in school (BTW ANY school- college was no different) is the worst social condition. Taunted, teased tortured made fun of. I dreaded Monday morning and I could not wait for Friday.

I was not horribly overweight, not morbidly but my mother reminded me constantly the perils of obesity including, but not limited to, diabetes, arthritis, fertility issues and cancer. She once asked me if I needed to be incarcerated to get me to stop eating.

“What’s incarcerated?” (I was eleven)

“It means put you in jail. You want me to put you in jail to get you to stop eating?”

“uh…. No” (note to self- I MUST think of ways to sneak food into my room and hide it)

I won’t be a bore by relating every story about being overweight; it is a pretty clear picture that does not need an after school special. I struggled with weight after age 8 or so until 50 years later. Yup, I still struggle but I deal with it differently now.

So back to Casey Pryor. I was THRILLED to say the least. If I had any doubts the fact that I, ME, CHRISTINE was being asked to prom like a normal person was earth shattering and I delved into its planning like a giddy bride.

Dress… check. Mom, though she was a bit dubious, made me a dress. She was a great seamstress and created a lovely fitted dress out of a tiny blue and white check. Now in retrospect I kind of looked like Minnie Pearl of Hee Haw fame. It was not trendy, but I LOVED it. I knew all the other girls would be decked out in revealing slinky satin and lace, but I did not care. I had my OWN date and my own dress. I guess I should have asked Casey if he needed to know anything about the dress like the color for a flower, but I was too afraid. I would jinx it- he would look at me with my flabby arms and rolls over my belly and run for the nearest exit. I lived in a euphoric haze for a week until the day arrived.

You would think that this will end up with a tale of woe at the dance, torn dress, slip and fall or worse but it did not. I never made it there. Casey showed up all right- driving his dad’s blue ford Fairlane. The minute he turned down the drive I felt a surge of relief. I had worried that he would not show and that this would be some kind of cruel joke but there he was in front of the house. Yes, I should have suspected something was amiss because he smelled of alcohol, but I hopped in and smiled. He really did not have anything to say as he drove along- I tried to make chit chat and nattered on about who knows what. In fact, as we drove along, he seemed happier and I began to think I was going to experience what all the other girls seemed to know about.

My twin sister always had (and still does) have a gorgeous figure. She was terrifically smart and a great musician. Now an Ivy League professor, she is glamorous and worldly and everything I wish I was. I am still heavy and work in emergency services where it seems to matter less what you look like rather than what you bring to the table. I was always jealous of her since she seemed to be a “perfect student/child/worker/thinker/bedmaker and room cleaner. The problem with that is that I missed out on what a lovely person she is spending all that time wishing I had everything she WORKED for. And, frankly, I did not spend enough time appreciating what a lovely person I am.

I think Kate was at that dance; it was our senior prom and she was experienced and worldly, but my mind has blotted out a lot of it. I had plans to strut into that gymnasium at City High School with Casey on my arm like a normal girl. Yes, I thought about the goodnight kiss and what that might be like as I had never experienced one, but I saved that like a luscious dessert for later.

As we pulled into the parking lot. I could see people going in arm in arm. Like colorful peacocks strutting their overt sexual dances vying for attention my classmates floated inside. I saw some of Casey’s friends waiting for him, actually a rather large group. They seemed quite anxious to see him and I foolishly jumped on that. I imagined Casey and I dating, hanging out with his friends and being “normal”.

I had really let down my guard. I truly believed the hype I had fed myself for the last week instead of eating cheese puffs and chocolate in my room with cheap romance novels. My guard was so down that I never suspected anything was wrong until they broke out into laughter as I got out of the car.

“Oh my GOD Casey you did it man! You DOG! That is HILLARIOUS!!! You WIN!!!!!!!!!!!”

Stunned silence.

“Dude here’s your money! You are going to buy the beer tonight!!!!”

“Uh Casey, what’s going on?”

“Jesus you don’t think I would actually go to prom with you, did you? You fat idiot!”

Stunned silence…. Flushed hot face.

I had been rocketed back into the reality of horrible school. This was it. It was mortifying. Nothing more to say. This was the horrific moment I had dreaded even over the name calling or the taunts.

Uhh… now what? I rode with him. What am I supposed to do? Wait till the prom is over and he goes and celebrates his mean-spirited triumph with his friends? Wait on the steps? Go cry in the bathroom? Since another friend was there, I eventually asked him for a ride home and was able to hold the tears until I got in his car. He was a band and theatre geek like me and somehow it seemed okay to cry.

I got my blotchy red face with my puffy racoon eyes home. All the makeup I practiced for my whole week was pretty much all over my face and it told a sorry tale. I never told my mom- Since I could just barely live it out myself It would have been hard to relate it to someone who had spent time to get me there.

Yeah, we’re not going to relive the snickers, pointing and whispers that greeted me at school the following Monday, but I will say that one of Kate’s friends Rosa would say “tierra tragame” (earth, swallow me). I honestly cannot tell you how I got through that day and through the end of that awful spring, but I do recall that it included buttered cinnamon toast, chocolate candy, cheese and Shasta soda.

Sufficed to say I survived that spring and college beyond. I survived horrible and vicious people and learned to appreciate the kind ones who came and went in my life. I gained and lost weight and went through many periods of improvement and backsliding learning from each experience.

Though I am not afraid of many things I do have several really tender areas. Being made fun of or ridiculed and being naked. Of course, the naked part is obvious and makes sense; who wants to see…THAT?! I do believe that there will never be a hope of me getting skin cancer since only my arms and lower legs have ever seen the light of day. Copiously covered with baggy clothing no matter the occasion I wondered if I was becoming goth because my entire wardrobe (sans underwear and brassiere) were black. Yes, I am wearing black pants right now.

I do not believe it was until I was 54 when I had a massage, but I had a hard time silencing the dialogue in my head. "Girl, you are a good Iowa farm girl. We do not get nekkid in front of people." My inner voices related to me how horrible it must be for that poor woman to touch…. this. And WHY could I not get that older brutal lady who was massive with a ruddy complexion. Surely, she would not be repulsed. But this is not about thinking about being naked it is about getting naked.

My aunt and uncle in Florida were awesome people. He was a retired automotive executive and she was a former zesty and sexy cocktail waitress. She worked supper clubs and was sassy and funny. I adored being around her because she loved me the way I was. I adored my uncle too; he was a scary gruff man with a loveable kind side. He was driving me to the airport once and I cried in the car. I feared I would never lose weight or be normal or happy. He put his hand on my knee and said, “I want what you want and I will help you any way I can.” I was stunned. The idea of losing weight for me for years had been filled with disappointment and fear of letting the people down who loved me (never mind myself). I accepted his help right then and there and though I had a lot of setbacks I carried that one moment in the car to this day.

My aunt and uncle are very accepting people about everyone including themselves. They have been practicing nudists for years and belonged to several communities in Florida. I always found it funny driving by- the high block walls with bright advertisements of alternative living. I wondered what went on and how they managed things. What happens when the UPS man comes? What about (god forbid) sunburn? They rarely offered information about their lifestyle but they were very open and frank if asked about it. I mean, these were people in their 70s. They did not have perfect bodies. Why on earth would they want to be nudists. That was for perfect people, right?

On one visit my uncle offered to show me their condo in one of the communities. We drove in through the gates and it all seemed normal until we drove past a couple in their 70s power walking. Lincoln Towncars have a lot of leg room and I was able to mash myself into the foot well to avoid any actual eye contact. I was so afraid of looking at people. Would they think I was staring? Was I??? Where were you supposed to look? How could you NOT look? I was relieved when we finally returned home but I was embarrassed about my reaction. The community was beautiful and the people we met were nice but I let my non-existent body image overtake the visit.

We did not really talk about it again until my uncle mentioned if I wanted to exercise I should come with him and swim in the pool. Recalling the candy bars stuffed in my luggage upstairs I politely declined but this thought stayed with me. When I really began to lose weight and take it seriously, he and I were speaking about how I felt. I was a bit over-confident and promised that if I got under 200 lbs I would go swimming with him at the pool. Seemed like a great idea because “when” was not now and it so conveniently moved out into the future with every passing day. But “when” finally rolled around as I stepped on the scale one morning and watched the readout tell me I had a trip to Florida in my future.

Let’s just assume I worried about it and just figured that I would do what I did on visits to the gynecologist- just “go to your happy place” and pretend you are not there. And NEVER make eye contact. We rolled through the gate into the beautiful welcome area and I registered for a day pass. This was a family-oriented community of older people and if the lady was representative of the residents they were personable and friendly.

The lady who drove me about showing me the grounds was quite willing to answer any question I put to her. No, you don’t have to be totally nude, but this was a community who had no judgements about that. You were required to carry a towel with you to sit on, it was just polite and sanitary. This was NOT a “swinger” resort. It was family oriented and safe. I would say about half the people I met were nude or wore a coverup. To my complete surprise they came in all shapes and sizes! There were women and men larger than myself and they seemed…. Happy. Comfortable. Self-accepting. We rode along for a while longer my guide chatting about plants and animals until I abruptly asked her “how is it that the ‘larger’ people are not uncomfortable being here?” She smiled a kind smile. She knew why I was asking it could not have been a secret I did not way 125. She explained that being nude was as God made us. In our most complete form. All equal whether we were fat or thin. Nudism was about loving yourself and your fellows as they are and not as adornments made us.

Perhaps it was the sun, or I was overcome by the kind words, but I truly felt as if I did not need to be afraid. She explained that as I became more comfortable with myself, I would not need to worry about others because I would be able to interact with them in an honest way. We pulled up at the reception area and my uncle stood waiting at the gate in the fluffy blue robe he always wore when he “went swimming.”

I think he sensed my nerves because he swept me away with a flourish and guided me to the ladies changing room. I am pretty sure you can flush red all over your body, but I was to scared to look. I recall thinking it was amusing to wear flipflops because… well.. why. But I walked alongside my uncle to the pristine pool and got in to swim laps. It got easier with every lap; the water seemed to hide me and give me extra time to shake off the shame. I was a bit surprised that as time went on I noticed no one cared about how I looked. No one ran away in revulsion and they talked to me. I mean, really talked to me like I was a person. A nude person. I sat in a hot tub with my uncle and a nice couple from the Midwest, a banker and his wife. We chatted amicably about travel and food, the things you would share at an airport or in a line to a movie or concert.

I became more comfortable interacting and then began to notice they were not perfect. They were sunburned, some wrinkled, some fat, some thin but I began to find them so interesting as people. I thought it must be like the description of the cave in Tom Sawyer- the darkness engulfed Tom so that his hearing was increased. I think that by removing EVERYTHING and being over-exposed to everything my understanding of the people around me became increased and I became less interested in how they looked than what they had to say or who they were. Although on a lesser scale I allowed myself some latitude and walked out the front gate stripped of my shame.

I wish I could return to my senior prom with a nudist point of view. We all come in naked and (without tens of thousands of dollars in cosmetic surgery) what you got is what you have. We have to make the best of the uncomfortable growing edges in our lives but we’re not going to receive the info until we are ready. Somehow that horrible boy and his friends in High School got me to where I am now. Sure, I am still embarrassed, but I came away from both experiences pushed to the edge and propelled into growth. I came to realize that taking off my clothes was like shedding the “stuff” which covers up who I really am.

I never felt completely comfortable in either situation; I should have known better with the prom but I tried to believe I could be like other people. At the nudist community I found that I am like everyone else and that is okay. So in a charming turn of events my worst fear gave me my greatest gift. I am not sure what my next big challenge is but I can guarantee you that covering myself up either with clothes or what people expect me to be won’t be required!