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I was raised by a free-spirited hippie chick who let it all hang out. Literally! She was all about having no hang-ups, communication, accountability, telling the truth and keeping it real — maybe sometimes too real.
In turn, I am a grown-up person who loves to talk and am open about my true experiences and feelings. I’m not one for masks. Truly, my mother was perfect in oh so many ways, but something new dawned on me last night. Could it be my mother may have had a flaw?
The question of nudity in the home came up at dinner last night amongst a few of our friends. Now because my mom was always streaking in her true bohemian way, I will say that I am very comfortable with my body and do not judge myself harshly over extra pounds and such.
My mother was not the typical beauty that we see glamorized in magazines, and she impressed upon me the value and gorgeousness of our many shapes, sizes, colors and textures. She didn’t think thin was beautiful or not; in her estimation it was just one expression of beauty.
Thankfully, because my mom was so open with her own body I’ve never been embarrassed with mine, or apologetic of its often fluctuating form. Which is hugely important, I’d say! Although — contrary to popular belief — nude scenes are not my favorite!
To add to my unconventional childhood and the parental figures in it who set the tone of my adult life, I also had a step-mother who is a free spirit. Different from my mom’s 70s pursuit of freedom, my step-mother was an 80s rebel who — to this day — makes her own rules and doesn’t ask for permission to live a life of happiness.
On that note, she was also someone who streaked around, sunbathed topless, walked around naked and might be seen wearing a sexy, revealing outfit. I have felt looking back that these two wild women left their indelible mark on me in the most positive of ways. I too, see myself as a free-spirit and not self-conscious a bit.
Until last night’s dinner, that is. When a group of our friends were talking about our kids as usual, it suddenly dawned on me that I might be more conservative than I’d always thought. As I said, the subject of nudity in the home and in front of the children came up. I realized that I don’t sleep in the nude, I don’t think Ron and I should make it a habit to walk around naked and that — although I’ve loved bathing and showering with Easton over the last several years — it might be nearing its natural end.
Continued here:
Elisabeth Röhm’s Blog: Daring to Bare All (Or Not!)