My Divorce with Clothing

I went shopping the other day and had myself a little bit of an embarrassing moment. If I make you uncomfortable in this post, I apologize. I have this thing where I don't like wearing clothes-never have. As a little girl, I really liked to rip my clothes off and run around the neighborhood OR simply just lift my skirt up over my head and proudly display my Strawberry Shortcake Undies. Either way, clothes and I have never been B.F.F.'s. The other day, I went bra shopping. The guard dog of the changing rooms was folding clothes with her back turned to me when I walked in. I stood there for a few moments waiting for her to feel my presence. Since she was completely oblivious and, therefore, proving to me she would not survive in the Hunger Games, I did the most logical thing a person would do. I started making weird faces at her back. I wish I could explain to you dear readers and myself why I am a certifiable weirdo, but it is something I feel will take years to figure out. Anyway, Miss Guard Dog finally sensed me when I stumbled while attempting the tree pose. She let out a startled yelp at the current face I was making at her and I rearranged my facial expression from crazy and armed to pleasant and what I hoped was embarrassed. She gave me a key and I instantly noted how short the doors were in the changing rooms. Since I am slightly taller than average, I am always hyper aware of the awkward open space above bathroom stalls and changing rooms with their constant invitation of uncomfortable social encounters. Nothing is more awkward than having to slouch down in a bathroom when you can see everyone taking care of business. Guard Dog led me to the midget changing room and I proceeded to take off all my clothes to try on the bras. I know it probably isn't a normal practice, but again, clothes and I enjoy our moments spent apart. After I finished trying on some fancy undergarments, I loathingly prepared to put my clothes back on. Cue guard dog standing at my stall. Since I might survive at least a few minutes int he hunger games, I sensed her hovering by my door before she had to say anything. She was trying to pass me my cell phone that I had apparently dropped while making yoga posses and faces at her. As I reached for it something popped over the top of that blastedly short stall door. We both looked down and stared at my exposed boob. Her eyes widened in fear and as she tried to avoid making eye contact with it again, she made eye contact with the full length mirror also visible above that stupid door. This poor girl got the view only my unfortunate neighbors, family, roommates and Sel have seen-my naked bod with part of my naked bod aggressively poking over the door at her. I would have thought I would be mortified, but in reality, I just started laughing. The girl looked mortified for both of us and frankly, I was still enjoying the lack of stifling clothing. The girl was so scarred she actually hide behind the desk when I was leaving the changing room. Ah, my life. Anyone know any good Nudist Colonies in Utah?