Naked New Year

The New Year always seems to bring forth images of the Old Man of the previous year, hunched over, tired and resigned, followed by a happy chubby cherub, naked with the exception of his banner representing the incoming year.

In this first, of what are to be many posts, I feel like that metamorphosis is happening in my own life. I am that hunched over man. Shedding the previous year like a weathered, brittle snake skin, and anticipating the happy naked fatness of the incoming year. Resolutions, hopes, — almost everything, except credit card bills, is given a fresh new start. (Why oh why can’t the credit cards be given a fresh start?)

To be honest, I’ve never been comfortable in any form of my own nakedness. It’s not self-esteem, it’s the vulnerability it possess. The worrier in me is afraid of setting my proverbial nekkid bum on a thumbtack. It’s the judgment, from my worst critic, my inner monologue, and from the audience I pose in front of.

Well this year, I say Welcome the Nakedness! (Proverbially speaking of course, after all this isn’t that kind of a blog) I embrace that fat happy baby, as I set forth on a new journey of my life. I welcome you aboard. I ask that if you are naked, that perhaps you put a towel underneath yourself, for the sanity and squick factor that others may have.

Buckle up baby, I think it’s going to be a good year.

Baby New Year


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