nakedjen

Soul Shine

There is innate goodness, and true love, in all of our souls. It's my hope to let it shine brightly.

A thank you arrived today from one of my readers.  I feel Henry's own words to me so well explain, succinctly, the very reasons that I keep sharing my love and myself with all of you and have not closed up shop, even though lately I've been tempted to do exactly that for reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with anything buy my own inner demons.  Inner demons can get really noisy if you allow them to do so.  Sometimes, it is really difficult to quiet their noisy cacophony of voices.  A genuine thank you, a kindness from so far away, a reminder of the good, really does help.  

Jen, I have learned from your blog about issues such as the environment, human rights, food, and body acceptance.I was always shy. By your writings and photos,I have learned to accept my body.

 

Thank you!

 

xox Henry from Illinois

Henry is just one of so very many of you who has touched my own life and helped to transform my heart and my life, as well.  This truly is a conversation that happens here.  I want to just say thank you for listening and to let all of you know that I am also really listening to you.  Thank you for being the twinkling points of light in my darkest days. 

Shine on!

You are Better than Pretty

My friend, Heather, shared this with me today.  Now, I'm sharing it with each of you.  I hope you'll watch it, but more importantly, I hope you'll really listen to it.  All the way until the very end. 

 

You all are pretty amazing, pretty fabulous, and absolutely pretty darn beautiful.  Yes, all of you. Each and every single one.  I'm especially talking about you.

* My friend, Heather, who shared this with me, died quite suddenly and unexpectedly last Thursday. I keep seeing this video being shared around the interwebs and I can't help but think of Heather when I do.

Heather was brash and bawdy and bright and bold and everything pink and lived her life without apology and absolutely out loud.  She was the world's cheerleader and loved furiously and fiercely and passionately.  She loved with incredible and unexpected and surprising generosity.  I am a better person for her friendship and kindness and our world shines a just a bit more dimly now that she's not here to add her pink sparkle.

Godspeed, Stinkerbell. 

Being happy isn't having everything in your life be perfect. Maybe it's about stringing together all the little things like wearing these pants or getting to Santa Cruz - making those moments count for way more than the bad stuff.

This is a story that begins with a pair of pants.  A pair of pants that I acquired quite by accident last summer.  A very particular pair of pants that I actually lusted after for quite some time, but never actually purchased because spending that kind of money on those kinds of pants seemed all kinds of frivolous.  Especially when I was in the middle of losing house and home and husband all in one fell swoop. 

Which is why, when I happened upon the very same pair of pants, the pants I had wanted, the pants I really did not need but oh so desired, among all the very many thousands of pants that are there for the wanting at our DI early last summer I decided that the goddesses of the pants Universe had decided that I had waited and wanted for quite long enough. 

I bought the pants.  For $1.99.  The pants, as you see, were meant to be.

Saturday morning, the sky was crystal blue, the sun a glowing orb of goodness, the air was cool and crisp, the birds were singing spring songs of cheer and I woke up in Santa Cruz.  My home where I am truly understood, at least most of the time.

I pulled the pants from my suitcase, slipped them on and it is right then that I noticed that either I had shrunk or my pants had found some sort of pants growing magical fairy dust while they've been hiding out in the bottom of my dresser drawer because no sooner had I pulled them up over my ass then they slipped right back down to my ankles.  Completely.  Without need to unbutton, unzipper or in any way manipulate them.

These exact same treasured pants that I wore nearly every day tucked under sassy short dresses were most decidedly suddenly two sizes too big. At least.

Inconceivable!

I didn't have a belt with me, nor anything that could easily be fashioned into something that might hold these most treasured and favorite of all my pants up.  I did have plenty of other clothes with me, clothes that fit just perfectly fine, clothes that were also absolutely weather appropriate for that most gorgeous of first days of Spring in Santa Cruz.  Did I change in to them?  Of course I did not.  That would have been a far too rational thing to do.

Instead, I grabbed a fistful of pant in one hand, grabbed all my other stuff in the remaining free hand and headed out the door. 

As I was driving to Holly's house, whom I was meeting to go clean our beloved and beautiful beaches, I called her to beg for the two things I needed most in the world right at that moment.  Coffee and a belt.

She sounded like death.  Warmed over with a side of fries.  I had just seen her the evening before and couldn't possibly imagine what had transpired in the few hours since, but was imagining that there had been some sort of horrific zombie flu invasion in her quadrant of Santa Cruz and my brain was immediately trying to think of what the hospital had told us about how to combat zombie flu invasions.  Feed it? Starve it?  Drink only liquids?  Meanwhile, Holly is saying something about no belts and no coffee and she might not go to the beach and, oh god, she has to go!

At that very moment, I was passing an exit on the freeway where if I hopped off I knew there was a strip mall (do we not all just despise strip malls?  All together now.  THEY SUCK AND CAN BE THE FIRST THING TO GO IN THE ZOMBIE FLU INVASION!) that had a drug store, a grocery store, and a Peet's coffee.  In other words, perhaps a belt? And definitely coffee.

So I hopped off the freeway and hopped into the parking lot of this craptastic strip mall.  I will just now add, because this will be important later, that the parking lot for this particular strip mall is all kinds of backwards.  Let's face it.  This is California.  At the beach.  Where real estate is a high premium.  If we're going to have a parking lot, well, we're going to construct it like a small kid with her Legos and squeeze as many Matchbox cars as we can possibly fit into the allotted one hundred square feet.  Believe me, a girl with her Legos and Matchbox cars and get really creative if she has too.  Especially when that land is costing her a gabillion dollars.

I parked. Holding a fistful of pants in one hand, I wandered into the grocery store.  Yes, the grocery store.  In search of a belt.  At that point I probably should have gotten the COFFEE first so I could actually have some of my brain function before attempting to solve the BELT issue, but I didn't have the COFFEE and thus didn't THINK to actually get the COFFEE and instead just kept thinking about the fact that I was wearing NO UNDERWEAR and would truly be at least HALF NAKEDJEN if I didn't do something about the PANTS ISSUE pronto.

Fistful of pants. Wandered the aisles of the grocery store.  I actually went to the produce department and searched for twist ties.  Yes, twist ties.  DO NOT JUDGE ME, PEOPLE.  I had not had coffee.  Enough twist ties tied together and you can make a belt.  You know, like on Survivor, only BETTER!  Only because California is in such a horrible and deep depression they are not even providing the good citizens there with twist ties for their plastic bags in the produce department.  (California, I want you to know we have lots of twist ties here in Utah.  I will send you some if you truly need them!). 

Thwarted with the twist ties, I tried to find the "sewing supplies".  Instead I found the Hardware Section. Of the Grocery Store.  Where I found DUCT TAPE.  And, yes, of course, I went all McGuyver and figured I could just fashion an oh so fashionable DUCT TAPE BELT.  For the magical pants.  That would keep me from being HALF NAKEDJEN. 

Oh, but, what was that I spied in the HARDWARE section right next to the DUCT TAPE?  Industrial sized safety pins.  Which, you know, can be pinned together.  To make a belt!  Those of us with pants suddenly large enough to fit Mr. T can still be STYLISH, you know.  A SAFETY PIN BELT.  I would be oh so GOTH and very SANTA CRUZ all in the very same instance. 

So I grabbed the industrial safety pins.  With my fistful of pants I wandered to the cashier where I was reminded, oh so very well, about the very special nature of cashiers in Santa Cruz.

You can never just check out at a store in Santa Cruz.  That is just a near impossibility.  This is because your cashier is nearly always having a conversation about the surf conditions with their buddy who somehow just happened to wander in shortly before you appeared at the cash register.  Not only that, but whatever you're purchasing that day, be it orange juice or, I don't know, INDUSTRIAL SAFETY PINS, is the most fascinating item in the store for purchase that the cashier has EVER LAID EYES ON and he spends at least ten minutes completely enthralled and fascinated that YOU FOUND THIS IN THIS STORE?!?!

Ten minutes. Swear to god.  Holding a fistful of pants and two dollars.  WITHOUT COFFEE!! To just buy the pins that would eventually keep me from being naked.

In the parking lot, I hooked all the safety pins together to form one long unbroken chain of safety goodness, weaved it through the belt loops on my pants, and then, well, I was no longer in danger of pants to the ankles slippage.

So I headed into Peet's.  For COFFEE.  I completely confounded the boy behind the counter with my request for a SHOT IN THE DARK.  He had absolutely no idea what it was that I wanted.  So I explained it to him and asked for TWO SHOTS, please, as it had been kind of a rough morning what with my fistful of pants and all.

I'm not exactly certain what happened next except that I know that I was sitting in my cute little rental car, putting the coffee where it was supposed to go, getting ready to go meet Holly when my car came in awful crunching contact with the back end of a Ford F250. 

There was no damage to the truck as it was the trailer hitch that hit my car.  There was some ugly damage to my little rental car and all I could think, honestly, was THANK GOD I'M NOT HOLDING UP MY OWN PANTS!

Of course, I know that this story could be far more interesting and exciting if I had not already addressed the pants situation and instead I had hopped out of the car, the pants had immediately slipped to my ankles, I had somehow found myself entangled in them, I had tripped and fallen, HALF NAKED, into the arms of the truck driver with half of Santa Cruz watching.

Instead, I'm just grateful for INDUSTRIAL SAFETY PINS, for excellent car insurance and for extra shots of espresso because those are all really important and necessary things in your life when you're writing a story about pants.

+++++++++++++

Hey, I'm live on SecondHand Radio with SecondHand Karl, Thursday, March 25, at 10 P.M. EST.  I told Karl that I'm really an open naked book and he can talk to me about anything. So...if you want to ask me about anything that you really want to know, feel free to tune in and join the conversation.  Anyone can call in, anyone can join the chat.  I'd love it if you did!

Naked Jen for Dove "Real Beauty Campaign"

I've written about Dove's Real Beauty Campaign here before.  How I was excited that a major brand and company was finally taking the issue of self-esteem and body image seriously and using it as a platform for their products and to actually improve the minds, bodies and souls of women (and men!) across the globe.  Bravo, Dove. 

As this has been my message and platform for over seven years on this blog, I am truly happy that they're using their big and mighty resources in such a positive way.  It can never hurt when we are helping each other to love our bodies and our selves.  More love in this world is always a beautiful thing.

Recently, though, I also realized that I could be an excellent partner for Dove.  I mean, honestly, I've been walking and talking and living their "real beauty" campaign for far longer than they've been putting ads on television or billboards on street corners.  Loving exactly who you are is my motto, the words I always live by, the way I encourage everyone to always be. 

With the help of my friend, Marlo, a campaign has been created on Facebook to help me to get Dove's attention.  Marlo was incredibly sweet and had the following to say in the launch of this campaign:

NakedJen had been CAMPAIGNING for REAL BEAUTY years before the Dove campaign. She is a TRUE LIVING example of a woman working daily to promote SELF LOVE embrace SELF BEAUTY against the stereotypical ideals.

If you have a Facebook account, it is quite simple and really easy to join the group.  In this case, numbers are what counts.  Look, if a silly Facebook group about a tinfoil hat on a dog can garner 1,000,000 members, certainly we can get at least a couple thousand, right?  And that couple thousand should help me to really get Dove's attention!

To join, just go here.  Click the join button.  You're done.  And...if you're not already one of my friends, please ask to become one, too.  I'd love to be your friend.  I'll just warn you now, though, as NeverNakedBeth says, I can be exhausting!

And for those of you hoping for more tales of Sundance, I promise they're coming.  I have many, many more, plus a great give-away to share with all of you.  Your patience will be rewarded.  Soon!

P.S.  Are you all just loving the Olympics?  I can not get enough and boy oh boy am I ever so grateful to the good fairy who sent me that television!  Totally fab!

A Bit About Blogher that Probably Is More Not About Blogher Than Is

So, yes.  I was in Chicago for Blogher09.  The blogging conference for women.  Yes, I also got naked.  It wasn't so much that I got naked because that is what I do.  I got naked because, well, people asked me to get naked and I obliged.  Of course I could have easily said, "No fucking way." But, well, I don't say no fucking way when someone or many someones ask me to please get naked.  I get naked. 

I feel compelled because there were so very many lovely beautiful people there who have never ever laid eyes on this blog or me to perhaps explain myself just briefly.  Really briefly.  Getting naked is not my shtick as many of you were wont to believe over the course of the conference.  I do not blame a single one of you for making that assumption.  Again, you'd never in your life even heard of Nakedjen and there I was stark naked standing in the lobby of your hotel.  Not exactly something you're expecting and for the majority of you I am just guessing that it was not at all something you really wanted to see.

I get naked for you.  I know that's difficult to even possibly comprehend or believe, but I do.  I do it because for most of my life I lived in complete shame and, honestly, in a world of constant fear about my own body.  I was uncomfortable in it.  I was shamed by it and for it.  My skin literally crawled with all kinds of creepy crawlies when someone looked at me and I walked the planet in a shroud of black, doing my best to just disappear completely into the darkness.

My body was not my own.  It was owned by the men who had abused it over and over again, then it was owned by my own abuse that I continued to inflict upon it.  It was a body that was unloved, not cherished, unwanted and really, well, almost offed completely.

I was asked at one point during this conference by someone brave enough to ask when my wake-up call really came?  What clicked for me?  How I went from the woman who so despised her body that she cut it and spent most of her days in a drug-induced haze to the woman many of you witnessed standing stark naked before you in that hotel lobby?

I can't honestly answer that.  Because I honestly do not remember.  I will share that it feels like it took an entire lifetime to get here.  It was a perilous and scary journey back to me and I will also share that there were many days I wanted to just give up, retreat to the darkest corners in the back of my closet with a big old bottle of something 100 proof and just end it all. 

My heart, my spirit, the me that is me was bigger than all the many years of abuse.  Some how, some way, through the grace of the Universal spirit that binds one person to another, I managed to learn to truly embrace and love me.  Me.  A person I had never valued, never believed was worthy of any love at all.

The celebration of my body, the embracing of the body I have, the sharing of my body is because I know that if I can do that, if I can truly own it, if I can love it that much, then I will never allow anyone, not a single soul, to abuse me again.

This is what I mean by saying that I do it for you.  I know that my story is not at all unique.  I know that I am not the special poster girl for the horror stories of sexual abuse.  I know that I have sisters (and brothers) out there who have suffered just as much as I have.  Or much, much worse.  In ways that have seared their souls and shamed them into an existence where they live completely outside their own bodies and feel as if they are always just an observer.

I do it for all of them.

Love needs to happen first with ourselves.  We must love our precious selves first.  If we are incapable of loving ourselves first, how is it ever going to be even remotely possible for us to begin to love others?  I do not believe it is possible. 

I get naked for love.

It is so very easy in this world for any one of us to say, "I hate..." about ourselves.  We do it subconsciously, without thought, as an aside.  We look in the mirror and are frustrated with the bulges at our hips that are really just beauty marks from giving birth to the future, the sag in our breasts from feeding our own children, the wrinkles around our eyes caused by years of shared smiles.  Badges of honor, grace, and survival should be worn with pride, but we all work furiously to hide them.

I will not hide.  Not anymore.  I will not live in a world of shame, intolerance or hate.

I will stand before you gloriously naked.  I love my body, it is mine and it is precious and perfect.

This is my body. 

This is your body. 

We are all naked. 

Real Women

I'm sharing this email with all of you because, well, Ashley said I could share it.  Her email really touched me.  Some days, I will admit, I wonder if I am truly reaching the audience that I hope to reach with Nakedjen.  Yes, this is a blog about me.  Yes this is a blog about my life.  Yes, I drone on and on about my dogs and their trials and tribulations.  And I also talk a lot about my marriage to DearSweetDave and the trials and tribulations of that, as well.  Of course, I also mutter about the environment quite a bit and you often hear speaking for the trees.  Or even encouraging you to eat an organic diet and to walk more than you drive.  All of these things are quite true. 

But the reason I started writing Nakedjen, the reason I get naked and share the photos of myself on line, is because I want all of us to appreciate the bodies that we have.  To love ourselves.  Just the way that we are.  All bodies are beautiful.  Our media will have us believe otherwise, as many of us who pick up any big fat glossy magazine these days can attest. 

I have already applauded Dove on this blog for being bold enough to feature women of all body types in their advertisements.  I will also admit that when I saw their advertisement featuring these women on television recently I was actually shocked.  It took me a minute to actually believe my eyes.  Yes, I was thrilled to see all those different and beautiful body types.  But I was so entranced with what I was seeing I couldn't begin to tell you what product they were selling.  I am hopeful that other companies will follow Dove's lead and start using real women in their advertising, as well.  But then we all know that I am also an eternal optimist.

But enough about me.  Let me share with you Ashley's very kind email.  In her brief visit to Nakedjen, she really got what I am all about.  I love that I was able to touch her life in such a special way.  And I hope that for many of you, I'm touching your lives, too.

Hi! My name is Ashley, and I'm a 19 year old female. I occasionally spend way too many long hours 'stumbling' online (terrific, by the way) and came across your page just today. I wanted to send you an email just to let you know that you are a huge inspiration to me.

I have had alot of problems with my body, and accepting myself for who I am. I have never been overweight or obese by any means, I'm 5'6 and 149 lbs, but when you see so many tiny, skinny little supermodels, one begins to doubt themselves. I had tried dieting, was up and down, trying billions of weight loss tricks, and nothing worked. So discouraging. Soon after, it started to affect how I took care of myself, and even my sex drive!  The idea of beauty society has created for my generation is, in general, disgusting. Once I had that distorted image in my head, not even my fiance saying "you look great!" could change my mind. Sad thing is, I know I'm not the only one.

Your site really helped me to realize how to appreciate my body. REAL women don't get their freckles airbrushed out in pictures, and our boobs don't always look fake! REAL women have curves, and sometimes, REAL women's clothes cut in or just don't fit right. REAL women have bad hair days, and REAL women don't have personal make-up artists (sigh...). And the one thing that I know now (that I want to kick myself for not seeing), is that REAL women aren't computerized!!!!

Thank you so much!! You have changed my entire outlook an life and the way I view myself as  a woman. Feel free to use my email, or post it, or whatever, I just think that the world needs more people like you to get the word out there!!!!

-Ashley Nicole

Happy Naked Friday, everyone.  Get naked.  Spend some time loving the beautiful you that you are. 

 

More Than Just NakedJen

On Saturday, I invited myself to celebrate Bubble's first birthday.  It was a really lovely party, a gathering of some folks who I already knew and many that I did not, with amazing food and laughter and beautiful children who were quite busy adorning themselves with sparkly things and glittery paint and just the right balloon animal. 

At one point, Gwendomama mentioned to someone at the party that I was Nakedjen.  As in THE Nakedjen.  From the Internet.  The one she talks about all the time.  The one who just gets naked whenever.  The one who got naked at the Mexican restaurant when she was there and she missed the opportunity! 

That Nakedjen.

But then it didn't stop there.  She loaded this blog.  On her very large flat screen monitor that was sitting right on the buffet table.  There was a smorgasbord of food and behind it was me, upside down on a bed, naked.  Well, I suppose it's not a party until someone gets naked, as I always say, and it was probably a good thing that it was me.

Anyway, everyone was, as you might imagine, quite curious about exactly what it meant to be Nakedjen.  Why I did it?  What was the purpose?  What was it all about? 

So I happily explained that I am quite comfortable in my body.  That being naked for me is a celebration of my body and of myself.  I also explained that I was very tired of the distorted images of women that we are constantly fed by the media that make women feel that they are imperfect.  Or not quite good enough.  I was upset by a media that was constantly shoving the photo shopped perfected Barbie Doll images at us from the cover of magazines and television and billboards and was doing its best to create a very large population of women who absolutely hated everything about themselves. 

I wanted to change that.  And I was going to start with me.

So I started writing Nakedjen.  It was my very subtle political platform.  Because obviously I chose to be naked about my entire life, not just that particular agenda.  Once I really started writing Nakedjen, I decided to write completely from my heart and soul.  Bare it all.  To be truly naked.  And raw.  And very real.

I also decided that I would post naked pictures of myself.  That, I will admit, came more from my job at the time than from anything else.  I was the product manager for an on-line sex chat community.  Basically I was working in the porn industry.  And I didn't like what I was seeing at all.  Because the women who were being served up to the men were not REAL.  Men were paying lots of money for the fantasy of these women (and there's nothing wrong with fantasy!), but I decided that I would give them a bona-fide, genuine, absolutely 100% real naked woman. 

Now, let me reiterate that for me it wasn't about being sexual.  That honestly has never been my intention.  I'm just me.  I realize on an intellectual level that there are plenty of men (and women) out there that find my naked body attractive.  Or even, gasp, HOT as they like to tell me.  But for me, it honestly was just about saying, "Look, here I am!  Nakedjen!  This is my body.  I love every inch of it and think it's beautiful.  And I think your naked body is absolutely perfect and beautiful, too!"

So I shared all of that with the folks who were gathered in that small room on Saturday night while I was lying naked behind the buffet.  And the women who were gathered there seemed to really get it.  They all launched into their own stories of shame about their bodies.  And how they wished they could be brave enough to be naked.  That kind of thing.

As I was sitting there one of the men, a grandfather, came over and sat at the table.  And he started reading Nakedjen.  But then he noticed the naked pictures.  (And we know there are quite a lot!) And he started to search for each and every one.  I was sitting right next to him as he did this.  I could tell that he was getting visibly aroused.  Yet he didn't stop.  He just kept searching for the next naked photo.

So this is where it got weird for me.  And it also surprised me that it got weird for me.  As I said, I intellectually know that there are men who find my pictures sexually arousing.  For whatever reason.  And I'm totally okay with that.  But when this man who was sitting right next to me started actually salivating over my pictures, I got a little freaked out.  I wanted to say, "Hey, it's just a naked body!"  And at the same time I was wondering if I should ask him if he'd like me to take my clothes off so he could see the real thing?!  Meanwhile, I was so shocked, I wasn't able to say anything at all.  I just sat there watching him watch me with a strange curiosity. 

When I shared all of this with DearSweetDave last night, he had some valuable insight for me.  He asked me if I could perhaps try to embrace the idea that my pictures are, in fact, erotic.  That I am a beautiful woman with a beautiful body that turns men (and some women) on.  Could I possibly own that and call it my own? 

I believe that I can.  Internet, I give you the beautiful and erotic me.  In another picture taken yesterday by the wonderful Dave Winer.  Who has joined the ranks of "official Nakedjen photographer". 

NaBloPoMo links for today:

Attempted Motherhood

Mixed with Sugar

The Hero Workshop

P.S. If you're curious about my visit yesterday with Dave (and the pictures) he was kind enough to write about it on his blog.  So you can go read about it here. Or you can wait for my Film at 11.  But if you're a regular reader, we all know how that goes.

When Did Breastfeeding Become Such a Big Issue?

Mothering Magazine is hosting a contest to create an international Breast Feeding symbol.  This one, though not one of the finalists, is actually my favorite.  I think it's a good idea that we have an international Breast Feeding icon that signals to women that there's a clean and safe place to breastfeed their child.  I also believe, however, that if a baby is hungry, a woman should be absolutely free to breastfeed that child where ever she is.  Period. 

My friend, Gwendolyn, just recently had her own rather unpleasant confrontation over breastfeeding her son in public. 

You would think that because we live in Santa Cruz, our small liberal coastal community where even I can walk naked down the beach without being arrested, that breastfeeding would be such a non-issue.

But apparently, it is not.  At least for some people.

I'm not a mother, don't have children, have never breastfed and have no plans to ever do so, but even I'm incensed on Gwendolyn's behalf. 

If we forbid our mothers to feed our children what nature intended them to eat when our children are hungry, then we are doing a disservice to all of humanity.  Not just their mothers.

Breastfeeding a baby is natural.  It's healthy.  It's best. 

I urge you the next time you feel squeamish or uncomfortable with the woman who is breastfeeding her child in public to just remember that that mother is providing her child with the perfect food.  And then just quietly leave her alone.  She's just doing her job.  As nature intended. 

Dove. Thank you.

I don't think I need to say anything more.  But I will say this.  For three years I have been writing this blog and sharing with you how our perceptions of beauty are completely distorted by the media.

My deepest gratitude to Dove for taking such a strong stand and for their campaign for real beauty.  They have the ability to touch far many more people than I with their message.

As your sister and your friend, I encourage everyone reading this to share this with your sisters, your girlfriends, your mothers and especially with your young daughters.  Together, we can change our perception of beauty. 

One body at a time.

 

Stop the Madness

Paris Fashion Week is in full swing.  I'm not going to talk about the fashions, although we all know that I'm a girl who absolutely loves her fashion.  I'm going to talk about the models. 
There is lots of buzz in the press about just how thin some of the models are and what these images are doing to the delicate impressionable psyches of our daughters.

But not just our daughters.  What about us?  Their mothers, their aunts, their grandmothers, their sisters, their friends.  These images being beamed around the globe, these women walking the catwalk who are supposed models of perfection, they weigh on our own psyches, too.

 

My sisters, my mothers, my friends, I encourage you to try your best to see the skeletons before you.

While I won't condemn these women for their x-ray thin bodies because I have no idea, at all, the circumstances that have brought them to this state (there are, dear friends, those of us who are just naturally veryveryvery thin), I will encourage each and every one of you to love the very body that you have.  And to encourage your daughters, your sisters, your mothers, your grandmothers to do the same.

Our bodies, every single one of them, are beautiful.  We do not need to be walking skeletons to portend beauty!

We can eat healthy foods and nourish ourselves, our spirit, our souls.  Skeletons may make a grand fashion statement on Halloween, but they're rather out of fashion the other 364 days of the year. 

We can have fat thighs.  A pudgy stomach.  Breasts!!

 

We can look like this.

Let us love every body, but let us start with our own.

An Addendum:

I was contacted today by someone who informed me that the photos associated with this blog entry were photoshopped and alarmist and not real.

Since I like to be about the truth here at Nakedjen, I've elected to remove those photos and replace them with others that are from actual runway shots and to the best of my knowledge are representative of what I'm discussing.

I'd also like to point all of you who happen to land here to THIS ARTICLE from Newsweek.  They have eloquently articulated a lot of what I'm trying to say and have some very interesting facts and figures about how our children view their bodies and what we might want to do about it.