I haven’t been naked in front of others since 2002. Not that I am keeping track or anything.

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I want to be comfortable being naked in front of people.

Not like, watch me rub up on this pole naked.

More like, sure, let’s have day time sex…with the shades open…and no covers…with out my tank top on…screaming every five seconds “just look me in the eyes, dammit!”

Andy tells me I am sexy, but I mean, really, what are his other options?

Artificial rubbery vagina?

Those are creepy, and what’s a vagina without episiotomy scars and two day old stubble because your kids won’t leave you alone long enough to shave?

Amateur.

But, when it comes to my fear of public nakedness, I blame Hollister.

I shopped there once in college.

Have you ever been?

What, no desire to buy overpriced, elf size, pseudo surfer clothes from sparkly teenagers who look like they just got done having sex, that get paid to ignore you and make you feel poor and fat?

Clearly, you are missing out.

So, I went there looking for jeans.

I headed over to the dressing rooms, and holy shit, there were none.  Just one big unisex room.

It was like gym class.

Only everyone else was way younger, and I had on my big, comfy period panties.

I can’t take off my pants, and do my chubby person wiggle into a pair of tiny jeans, in my ratty menstruation underwear, in front of teenage boys.

Or that creepy middle aged guy standing in the corner with a hoodie in front of his lap.

So, what do you do?

Well, if you are me, you stare at everyone’s privates until they all get uncomfortable and leave.

Except the middle aged dude, he’s in it to win it.

Then, you strip down to your gigantic underwear, try the jeans on, they don’t go any further than your knees, you peel them off, tell the fitting room attendant they all should be ashamed of themselves, because that whole experience was like a bloody porno, and then spend the rest of the day drowning your sorrows in your Jumba Juice.

And then, all these years later, you won’t get naked in front of others, because no matter where you are, whether you are menstruating or not…that creepy, sweaty dude in the corner will always be there watching you.

Thanks a lot, Hollister.