I posted a photograph on Facebook today of my naked bum, arms stretched wide, hugging a fifty foot waterfall, saying this:

I used to be afraid to be naked.

I used to be afraid to have the most vulnerable, private parts of my body breathing.

I would rather they be safe, covered, held up by fabric and silk.

I liked the way my bum & bits looked in underwear, more than naked.

I liked the way my breasts felt, supported by a bra.

I liked to be naked with the lights off, where the only way to see me was with finger tips.

I now love my naked body, out loud. I’m proud of it.

I swim naked.

I garden naked.

I do yoga naked.

I sleep naked.

I grind coffee beans naked.

I dance naked.

I cook naked.

Being naked isn’t sexual to me. It isn’t flirtatious. It isn’t desiring of attention.

I love my whole skin, each inch and love letting the wind and sunshine kiss each cheek, hello.

A reader commented on the photograph saying that I had written an article some time back about skinny shaming and how it was just as bad as fat shaming. She went on to say that if a fat girl were to post a picture like I did, that it would be taken down as vulgar instead of being celebrated as liberating and beautiful.

She sent me to some articles about thin privilege and recommended I read them before getting on my high horse again. She finished her reply claiming that if she posted a photograph like this, she would not get the same respect and admiration.

I couldn’t help but call bullshit on this one.

However eyes choose to devour a photograph of myself, or any women, regardless of her waist size—is their choice. I could give a damn if this photograph gets praise or admiration. If I get unfollows or complaints.

Someone reported it on Facebook, and it will likely be taken down within the hour.

I bared it all today to explain a message on my journey as a two-legged human, something I find valuable, vulnerable and important enough to share. About loving oneself, about being comfortable in the skin we are given.

The message was pure and beautiful and wobbly in the knees.

As a writer, my authentic experiences are all I have to give.

Today it was my bare ass and some encouragement to dive into loving each inch of our skin.

A message on joy, a message on openness, a message on vulnerability.

I will not bow down, hide or mute myself to make the world feel more comfortable in their skin.

I will not, ever, apologize for being who I am out loud.

My hope for our entire world, is that we can become comfortable with people being comfortable in their skin and that we can all join one another in being who we are, out loud.

Without judgement, and without shame.

Relephant:

I am a Thin, Beautiful, Privileged Woman.

What “Real Women Have Curves” Actually Means.

Author: Janne Robinson

Editor: Catherine Monkman

Photo: Author’s Own