As I prepare for the month my two older kids will be away at sleepaway camp, I’ve compiled a list of tasks I aim to tackle during their absence. This includes ambitious goals like decluttering the garage, donating clothes they’ve outgrown, and vacuuming under the furniture. But it also features simpler personal goals: taking daily walks, finally finishing that novel that’s been collecting dust for two months, and treating myself to a facial. This summer checklist is a collection of all the tasks that slipped through the cracks during the school year, the spring cleaning I didn’t get around to, and the intentions I set for self-care and creating a more organized space.
It’s been two weeks since the kids left, and while I’ve accomplished a few items on my list, one unexpected activity keeps popping up: wandering around the house completely naked.
For those who regularly roam their homes in the buff, this might not seem like a big deal, but for others, the absence of children provides the perfect opportunity to enjoy some nudity. For me, being naked isn’t a typical habit or a deliberate choice. Yet, here I am, folding laundry in the nude, casually heading downstairs for a Diet Coke and pretzels, and sprawled on my bed scrolling through social media—naked.
So, what’s going on? With three kids and a husband constantly shuffling in and out of the bedroom and bathroom, personal time is a rare luxury. Our home lacks locks on the interior doors, meaning I frequently find myself under the scrutiny of my husband’s gaze and the curious eyes of my tweens, not to mention the innocent critiques from my four-year-old: “Mama, you have a mushy butt!” Despite my efforts to teach them about boundaries, they often barge in with a casual, “Oh, sorry, Mom,” followed by a request. While I cherish their presence, it doesn’t leave me much time to enjoy my own nakedness. Now that I have the house to myself, I’m realizing just how much I’ve missed this freedom.
I’ve gained a newfound appreciation for my mid-40s body, which certainly doesn’t resemble the physique I had in my 20s and early 30s pre-marriage and motherhood. Back then, my skin was smooth and firm, and my rear didn’t hang like it does now. Ironically, those were the years I stressed the most about my appearance—always trying to shed a few extra pounds, tone specific areas, and compete with the slender girls downtown. I often pondered if my naked body would ever be “good enough” for someone to love—let alone myself.
These days, I prefer to view my body through a lens of gratitude and a confident “hell yeah.” I appreciate what my body has accomplished, where it has journeyed, its limitations, and its surprising resilience. It has run marathons, participated in tennis tournaments, and tackled the Pacific Crest Trail for three weeks. My body has scaled Mount Washington in late August snow, tried snowboarding and skiing (with limited success), and thrived through years of yoga and barre classes. It has nurtured and birthed three children and healed after a miscarriage. While I still catalog the freckles, scars, and wrinkles, my self-assessment has shifted from critique to observation. Honestly, I feel great about how I look, and even better about how I feel.
With two weeks left until the house is full again, I plan to fully embrace this nudity. I aim to finish that novel, possibly indulge in a facial, and think about tackling the garage clean-out. Oh, and I’ve added another task to my list: Call the locksmith.
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In summary, this summer is my time to reconnect with myself, find joy in the little things, and fully appreciate my body—naked and all.
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