Thursday, November 3, 2011

In which Miss A Dons Her Birthday Suit

As a toddler, Miss A went through a nude phase. Most toddlers do, but her parents were still concerned. Should they hold off on kindergarten? There were concerns about Miss A stripping down in the middle of the afternoon, effectively changing “Show and Tell” forever.

She did everything naked (or, as her mom would pronounce in between giggles, “nekkid”). Playing Barbies, eating dinner, performing One Woman Only renditions of “The Nutcracker” and watching Bambi were all acceptable nude activities. Jerry Seinfeld once analyzed “good naked” and “bad naked” activities, the good being those that involved sex or sexy poses and the bad being things like clipping toenails. But for Miss A there was only one NAKED and it was…well it was a thing to see.

Her parents were pretty good about keeping the splendor indoors—there were no exhibitions at the Blockbuster, for example—but they could only do so much when it came to inviting visitors to the house. The shining memory of Miss A’s nudist years was most definitely the evening that her godparents’ parents came over to the house and Miss A, gloriously nude, pranced out into the living room, politely said “hello,” plopped down in her favorite red plastic chair and went to town on a bowl of macaroni and cheese. No big deal.

Sadly, Miss A grew up into a fully-clothed and mostly well-rounded adult. At least most of the time:

Grownup Interlude

From my Peace Corps service in Morocco, blog entry dated 4-29-2010

well folks, summer is just around the corner and i am knee-deep in preparations. by preparations i mean i have designated my house as a "no-pants zone."

A Venn diagram (see above) with one circle being "time spent in my house" and the other being "time spent wearing pants" would actually not even be a Venn diagram, just two mutually exclusive circles hangin out next to each other.

i'd just like to say how in awe i am of volunteers further south than me, because oh my god it's not even that hot here yet and i am already sweating balls minutes after i go outside. it's disconcerting that people keep asking me if this is my first summer in Morocco, then when I tell them it is, calling me "maskina" (poor thing).

In other news, I am either adapting to the way things work here or just getting really lazy, because I actually told a Moroccan to calm down today. He was spazzing about when I would be able to buy cookies for a party I am throwing on Saturday (ie, 50 hours from now) and I actually cut him off and told him he needed to chill out.

okayyyy bye

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