There was a time when I maintained regular haircuts and flawless manicures. My wardrobe didn’t revolve around yoga pants, caps, and well-loved cotton tees. I even had matching lingerie sets that were lacy and did not come from a last-minute Target run.
In those days, my figure was youthful and firm; I wore bikinis with confidence, unconcerned about whether they would fit. I was fit, with toned muscles, and my abdominal definition wasn’t buried beneath scars from childbirth and the extra weight gained from snacking on my children’s leftover meals.
Now, reflecting on those times, it’s clear they belong to a distant past. I used to be proud of my body, but now I feel less so. Yet, despite these changes, my partner continues to express his desire for intimacy with me. He insists that I still hold the same allure, maintaining that I appear much the same as when we first met.
Truthfully, I know he’s exaggerating. The stretch marks decorating my thighs and the prominent C-section scar on my abdomen tell a different story. But regardless of the weight I’ve carried for years and the softening of my curves, he continues to embrace me, raising an eyebrow and asking, “Want to?” just as often—if not more—than when we were young and newly in love.
He sees beyond my insecurities and recognizes the essence of who I am. In our relationship, intimacy has evolved into a profound emotional connection built over years of exploration. While my underwear drawer no longer resembles a Victoria’s Secret display, I’ve come to realize that elaborate lingerie often ends up discarded before the real fun starts—these days, it’s my yoga pants that find their way to the floor just as easily.
Romantic evenings have transformed into quick, stolen moments, where planning around the kids’ naps or putting them to bed early is now the norm. Our bodies may have moved away from the youthful ideal, but the passion remains. We might resemble a couple with “marshmallow abs” and receding hairlines, but we still share an active sex life.
This doesn’t imply we’ve given up on our health or lost interest in keeping things exciting. Both of us make efforts to exercise and combat the aging process, but we also acknowledge that his abs have faded and my body will inevitably change further. Yet, I find comfort in our shared journey; we are a “bad naked” team and it’s liberating.
“Bad naked” doesn’t mean we loathe our bodies or lack confidence. Instead, it reflects our acceptance of change with humor. The freedom of not feeling self-conscious during those moments has proven surprisingly enticing—I never anticipated that!
Accepting our evolving bodies has facilitated more open conversations about intimacy. I now enjoy sex more, knowing I have a partner who cherishes me, stretch marks and all. He has witnessed me at my most vulnerable—through childbirth and beyond—and still sees me with desire.
Yes, our “good naked” days may be behind us, but “bad naked” has become our new reality. And I’ve come to realize that it’s the most fulfilling kind of naked.
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Summary:
In a candid reflection, Emily discusses how her relationship with her partner has evolved alongside their changing bodies. Despite the physical transformations, intimacy remains strong, rooted in emotional connection and mutual acceptance. They embrace their ‘bad naked’ moments with humor, finding liberation in their journey together.