I am always covered up. Because I’m a big guy, I prefer to wear layers. You’ll never find me without an undershirt. It acts as a substitute corset that helps smooth out lumps and bumps.
But it gets old wearing so much fabric all the time. I always feel boxed in, caged by my own clothing. It’s hot, it’s uncomfortable, and it’s constricting.
One day, I decided to sleep naked. I always sleep in a top and underwear but that night I was feeling experimental so I ditched my drawers and pulled my shirt over my head.
And then I snuggled into bed.
I found a comfortable position and as I put my hand on my bare stomach, I realized my skin was warm. I know that’s an obvious, if not odd, observation. Like, duh, right? People tend to be warm. But you have to remember I am always touching my clothes. When I rub my chest or scratch my back or cross my legs, I’m interacting with relatively cool fabric. But that night, it was skin on skin. And it was warm. And it was comforting.
And it just made me realize how out of touch I am (pun intended) with not only myself, but with other people. I’ve never touched someone else’s skin, never felt safe enough to get close to other people’s warm parts. And while my hand grazed my stomach, I realized it would probably be a nice feeling if I could. It’s something so simple, something so many people take for granted. And something I have yet to experience.
And I imagined how good it could feel and how soothing it could be, the kind of soothing that wasn’t just good to the touch but could do wonders for the soul.