HOW SEEING OTHER WOMEN NAKED CHANGED MY LIFE

And Helped Me Feel More Comfortable in My Body

During my junior year at boarding school, I got into one of the showers in the communal bathroom, turned the water on and realized I was still wearing my underwear. I had clearly forgotten to take them off while attempting to discreetly undress without my roommate seeing too much. Conversely, I stood in the women’s locker room at my community pool the other day while an older woman complained to me about the state of the bathroom for at least five minutes while being totally naked (she was casually holding a towel over her boobs, but it didn’t do much).

Growing up as a straight woman, I didn’t have much access to other women’s bodies aside from those on magazine covers or R-rated films. My mother never changed in front of me, and I remember a feeling of panic while getting dressed at camp one time because I mistakenly thought my ribs were my boobs and everyone could see them. I had no concept of what a “normal” naked body looked like because my only real reference point was my own and I assumed it was completely wrong. (Some of this concern likely due to that boy calling me flatty on a camp bus while simultaneously hitting on my friend.)

But once I got to my twenties, I had a life changing experience: I went to a Korean spa for the first time. If you’ve never been to a Korean spa, it is a place where full-blown nudity isn’t just allowed, it’s required. Within a moment of putting my things away, I was beckoned by my masseuse to take a naked shower while she stood right behind me holding my hair so it wouldn’t get wet. I then got my entire body scrubbed down while lying nude on a table next to my friend who was also nude on a table. There was no time for me to feel worried or ashamed that my entire body was on full display because that’s what everyone else was doing.

After that first visit, I got hooked and not just because of my obsession with having eerily soft skin. I was intrigued by this new culture of women baring it all for comfort and not appeal. I went again, this time to another spa that included hot pools to soak in as you waited for your treatment of choice. It was there that I started to really let myself look at the bodies of the women around me. Obviously, I tried not to stare, but I couldn’t help the rush I felt in seeing the wide range of pubic hair, curves and butts. No two people looked alike. Despite the media always showing the same body type over and over again.

It might sound silly that it took me so long to fully comprehend that I had been sold a bill of goods when it came to what to expect of the female form, but I simply hadn’t had access to older women’s bodies before. Hell, I’d barely had access to younger ones (hence me wearing my underwear in the shower). Sure, I’d seen plenty of women in bathing suits, but it was the parts underneath that I so harshly judged myself for. Fully understanding the diversity of possibility and actually welcoming it was incredibly liberating.

Since this spiritual awakening, though, I’ve found myself increasingly frustrated with the sexualization of the human body. I love going to the Korean spa because it is one of the few places where there is nothing explicit or suggestive about walking around with your boobs out. It feels like the most natural thing in the world. But outside those walls, the same body holds a different, indecent meaning. Much of this is due to how Americans treat nudity like it is something taboo. Unlike in other countries, Americans are much more worried about a child watching a film with a butt cheek than a head graphically blown off. There is this undercurrent that nudity is always charged with sexual desire and it can’t exist on its own.

This fusion between nakedness and sexualization is not something that is going to change overnight. Nor is the deep-seated fear that one’s body is configured in a less “normal” way than everyone else’s. Despite my life-changing experience a decade ago. I have still been struggling to feel totally comfortable being naked in the community pool locker room. I worry that I am somehow forcing my nakedness on the other women—even as they easily undress in front of me. That it is somehow rude to not do an elaborate dance to hide my privates as I wiggle into my shorts. But then I remember it is just a body. It isn’t something I need to be ashamed of, it’s something I simply need to dry off so I can go about the rest of my day.

I’ll admit that it’s strange that one of my biggest regrets in life is not seeing more naked women earlier. But this remorse has made me mindful of how important it can be for young girls to get that kind of exposure. If I ever have a daughter, I’ll likely make a point to bring her to locker rooms and not turn away when changing. We can’t change the fact that other people will often look at our bodies in ways we don’t invite them to or assign unfair meaning to the amount of skin we are showing. But we can work on how we feel about our bodies and release ourselves from needing every part to be perfectly symmetrical.

xoxo,

Allison

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