Clothes. We wear them to protect ourselves from the elements, peoples eyes and fashion faux pas. I have never really been one to keep up with the trends. Being fashionable is way too exhausting. I spend as much time as possible out of clothes. I sleep naked, wear a jump suit as my ‘home clothes’ and since January 2015, no longer wear underwear during my waking hours.
Panties, pants, jockeys, briefs, g-strings, t-strings, all covering-up kind or things. No more. I’m tired of not allowing my body to be free. I suppose I should thank my parents for my ability to step into my home, any home, safe space and step out of the material that binds me. I only started wearing clothes when I first went to school. My parents allowed me to live like a wild, nature child, naked and singing all the way to the age of 7.
I have never slept in anything more than a t-shirt and now I sleep in nothing. I had a chat with some of my girlfriends over the weekend and discovered to my horror that many women sleep in panties and some kind of clothing. Let me start at the vagina. The vagina is a soft wet opening. It is a magical, mystical playground, workplace and holy space. It cleans itself, repels everything that it does not see as necessary. It is a power house. The vagina takes and takes and takes. We put things inside it, wash it with strange chemicals, spray it with aerosols, rub it with strange creams, wipe it, dab it, pluck it, shave it, wax it and probe it with toys, fingers and penises. We never think to allow it to breathe. Relax, chill, take a holiday, play.
Your vagina needs none of the things that we think we need to look after it. Keep yourself clean and she will be clean, keep yourself happy and she will be happy. Let it all hang out. Take off your panties and enjoy life.
Now that I have stopped wearing underwear, I find myself more aware of the types of clothing that I wear. High waist denim shorts are no longer as cool and comfortable as I had made myself believe. My beautiful, highly sensitive little clitoris gets so crumpled and squashed in the hard, dry seems on the crotch of my fashion-ware. To be honest, most tight denim isn’t that comfortable. Wearing short skirts has become an olympic challenge, wearing long skirts is a whole day celebration just for me (an oxygen party in my none existent panties) . I have become very aware of the difference between natural and synthetic fibres. Given the chance, she, my vagina, is now able to recognise what is healthy, helpful or suffocating. Cotton helps her breath, synthetic fibres leave her tired and sweaty. She has to work so hard just to get fresh air.
As a performer and teacher there are occasions where I absolutely must wear underwear. On these occasions I only ever choose to wear barely there, cotton g-strings ( with tight items of clothing) or I wear boy-style girls hot-shorts (with loose items of clothing) . Both of these underwear styles are freeing and allow my bum and vagina to be relaxed, supported and comfortable. Nothing cuts in, digs in , clumps up or makes lines.
Underwear is body specific. Good underwear is expensive, so instead, I wear no underwear. Good , better, best. I chose the best for me. Try it. Try being free down there. To wear or not to wear, that for me, is the question.