One of my guy friends suggested recently that I write about the parallels between writing emotionally naked each day, which I attempt to do, as well physically naked…which somehow he managed to think I did. I do not, though it was entertaining to figure out why he thought that was the case. Last night a discussion with my girlfriends about our aging faces made me think about the whole concept of being naked and that whole "parallels" topic again though.
When we are born, we are flawless, beautiful little creatures. We haven't been tainted by either emotional or physical hurt yet, nor have we experienced much of anything. We wear a clean, flawless canvas as our outer shell. We are protected by our parents, and shielded from that which will affect us negatively for as long as possible. And obviously, that doesn't last very long.
We all wear the physical scars of our youth, from the falls we took, the bones we broke, the chances we risked. And we wear them on the inside as well. From the heartbreak of being crushed by our first crush, to perhaps living through our parents split, to losing someone we love.
And what struck me last night while joking with my girlfriends about our dermatologists telling us we have "aging skin" and now is the time to begin to consider Botox, is that I like my outer shell. It's pretty much exactly in line with how my inner self feels. It's got multiple, visible scars. Some are big and noticeable. Some are small and you really have to look for them. And those crow's feet? Those come from laughing, a lot. Why would I want to pretend I haven't spent my life laughing my way through the scars?
I am not going to pretend I am not vain at all. I'm working hard to keep myself healthy and decent looking for as long as possible. Just like I work on keeping myself emotionally healthy. But for me personally, I don't want to erase the signs of how I got here. My skin, my body, this outer layer is indirect representation of the journey that's taken place on the inside.
To get back to the writing naked piece, I don't. I suppose I have, because I typically sleep naked, and pathetically I admit to working and writing in bed. But not that often. The point is, I might as well. Because that is typically how I feel when I write about something incredibly personal. I've never been particularly shy about being physically naked, but to be emotionally naked is far harder for me. It's harder to throw a robe over it once you've exposed yourself. And over the last 264 Days, that's exactly what I've been doing. It's getting easier, but there are nights when I hit "post" and and feel completely raw. And I guess how that's how I know I'm staying true to myself and this project.
My body has served me well. It's a little broken down. I've got deep scars that netted me my two beautiful daughters. I've got scars from teenage stunts that proved both stupid and educational. I've got wrinkles, and tattoos and all kinds of things that make my body look different than the perfect way that it started. And I'm okay with all of that. Because it matches my insides.
All in all, both are holding up pretty well.
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