Are You Taking on Someone Else's Shame?

Anyone who knows me well, knows I prefer my corporeal to be completely stripped of clothing whenever it’s possible. I just love being naked.
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It’s not always been that way. Nudity and I have had an interesting relationship over the years.
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My wardrobe may now say, this chick really doesn’t like clothes. My wardrobe back then, however, said this chick only lives in the baggiest of clothes with the most coverage.
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It’s been a radical shift, to say the least, and it all had to do with the relationship with my body and with sex.

The deep sense of shame. This feeling that my body, that I was not good enough. I needed to be smaller, leaner, thinner—be as close to nothing, that’s what’s preferred. That nudity was immoral. Showing off was forbidden. My body is a sexual object, it’s property. Nudity means asking for it. You need to hide.
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Hide, you’re not worthy.
Hide, you’re wrong.
Hide, you’re not safe.
Hide, you’re supposed to.
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This shame doesn’t belong to me. This shame doesn’t need to belong to you either.
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Your body is whole. It is perfect. It is more than enough. It not to be ashamed off, taken advantage of, objectified. It is yours and that alone is beautiful.
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Nudity, to me, symbolizes empowerment.
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Walking naked around the house, in the desert, in the ocean, in the bedroom, in the presence of my partners—is freeing. It’s a reflection of how comfortable and liberated I finally feel in my skin. It’s a reminder that I chose to lay down shame that was never mine to carry.
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Frankly, I’d probably conquer the world naked. Arriving to this liberating place wasn’t easy, but nothing worthwhile is. It started with challenging questions and I’d like to encourage you to start that process, too.
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Start with this: What are you ashamed of? And where does that shame come from? Is it even yours? What would life look like living unencumbered by that shame?