|08:52 am - small epiphanies, strange revelations, and other ways I'm a freak|
I've never had an anxiety dream that involves being naked.
Nor does waking nudity (my own) give me much pause, at least on my own account; clothes are primarily a matter of climate control and preserving other people's delicate sensibilities. Other people's nudity tends to bother me to the extent they seem bothered; if I read someone as being troubled by it I will pick up and sympathize with that. But otherwise it's just skin, and the polite thing to do is look someone in the face when you speak with them - oddly enough a rule that works in clothed situations, too.
What amazes me more is coming out of my closed-minded, clothes-minded childhood circumstances with this confidence intact. Especially after being as persecuted for my weight and size as I remember feeling. Somehow that never translated to clothed/naked, despite the constant emphasis on "modesty" in dress. Other nonsense got its hooks in, but oddly enough, not that. The triumph of logic perhaps? Skin is skin.