My diary documents, verbatim, the most memorable times in my life of Involuntary Nakedness.
My First Involuntarily Naked Night
August 19th 2004
Dear Diary,
I feel like I am going to die. I am never ever going to drink again. I don't understand how my parents can drink every day, it's horrible! I got so so so so so so drunk last night at Serge's birthday party and I drank cherry vodka thinking it was like a WKD, only 5%, you know? It wasn't. I don't remember what happened but apparently I was carried home, an ambulance was called, and I passed out.
Previous to this, I believe I was naked in Serge's parent's room, wandering around chatting to random Croatian boys and ranting in German. Then I sat on the bed and just vomited everywhere for what felt like hours. Charley later told me it was much, much worse. I kissed these random Croatians- and her. Oh god. Am I a lesbian?
So. The whole of Croatia has seen me naked, spewing up flourescent pink vomit- sexy. This is definitely the way to get a boyfriend (or girlfriend). Well done, Stef.
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Bikini Issues
9th July 2009Dear Diary,
On the beach and that random hot dude is next to me again. He seriously has to sort out those speedos... But I must say, I do have a very nice view of his tight muscular bottom.
Oh my God. I nearly forgot to write about this- my mind must have blocked it out because it was so traumatic- something awful happened earlier on the walk up to the flat. My bikini bottoms literally undid themselves.I had to rush to the nearest place of cover which was some random fish restaurant. Looking shocked and clutching my bikini briefs for dear life, I searched for a sign for the bathroom.
"Hi!" I shouted, very overenthusiastically to the waiter. I smiled brightly and asked oh so politely, "I'm so sorry to bother you, but I really, desperately need to use the bathroom, if you could be so kind as to point it out to me, please..?"
He looked at me for a moment and then mumbled unblinkingly, "need toilet, use beach," and then carried on with his waiterly duties.
"Ah no, you see, actually," I began breathlessly, "my bikini has, err, come undone, and I just need somewhere, to umm, reassemble it," I rushed whilst pointing to the done up side of my tie-side bikini bottoms.
As he gradually processed my broken English, he began to leer at me, but said nothing.
"A back room perhaps?" I pressed. Then realising the sexual connotations behind this request, I raised my voice and said, "Do you know what? I think I'll just tie it behind here." I proceeded to waddle as gracefully as I could muster and stooped behind a freshly laid table to tie up my bikini. I'm pretty sure he saw my wonky brazilian when I was rearranging myself, but it was too late to care. My dignity went out the window with "a back room perhaps".
I walked out of there, holding my head high, as if I didn't have a care in the world, but I heard him burst into laughter as soon as he thought I was out of earshot. I cringed and went for a cocktail immediately so feeling a little better now.
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When Voluntary Nakedness Goes Wrong
December 24th 2006
Dear Diary,
It seems rather... un-Christian to admit this on Christmas Eve, but I just have to get this all out in the open. Last night, I suffered both the most embarrassing moment of my life.
So, whilst on this all inclusive trip to Cuba, I have been reservedly working my way through the cocktail list, ensuring I don't get too drunk while I am sharing a room with my parents. Last night, though, was a different story altogether. I did the whole list. All 23 cocktails. In 3 hours. Yes, I am still drunk, and yes, a hangover is a thousand million times worse when you are on the airplane. Does make me feel a lot calmer though- must remember to drink before flights all the time. Anyway. I was hanging out with all the boys, and we wandered down to the beach to frolic in the sea for a while before heading back in. At least, that was the plan. Then some moron (yes, it was me) suggested skinny dipping, and I grasped the opportunity to take all my clothes off and leap into the sea. In I leaped, bum wobbling, boobs shrinking as soon as I got in the cold water.
"God, I hope there aren't any jelly..." I drifted off as I turned around and noted that everyone else was still wearing there clothes and just staring at me. Fuck. What could I do? There was only one thing for it. I ducked and got my whole body in so they couldn't see anything. Hah! I thought, I have beat the system, they cannot possibly laugh at my nakedness now!
"Err, Stef? None of us have a towel. You're going to have to air dry."
Double fuck. I sheepishly got out the water and all the boys started to snicker at me.
"Yes, haha, very funny." I said as I tried to cover my most private parts, without much success. I stumbled over to Chris who then suggested we go and get more cocktails. Having sobered up after my, erm, sobering naked moment, I firmly decided not to drink anymore and just wait it out on the beach until I dried off. Chris, like a gentleman decided to wait.
Gentleman my arse! Speaking of, he grabbed it as soon as the other boys were out of eyeshot. Men. Everyone tells me they're all the same, only after one thing and all that jazz, but I didn't believe that they could actually be that simple. Guess so. Chuh, what a pervert.
N.B. The above statement is the single greatest lesson I have learnt in life from an involuntary naked moment.
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Curtians: The Wonder of Closure
November 17th 2009
Dear Diary,
Mega cringe. While I am always so careful to turn my webcam around because I have this irrational fear and paranoia that I am being watched by government officials who will release pictures of me naked when I am Prime Minister, I forgot about the bloody curtains.
Some one cat-called "Oi, oi!" when I was moisturising after my shower, and I literally grabbed my breasts as if they were about to fall off and yelped like a puppy who got its tail stood on. It took me approximately twenty seconds to process whether I should duck or close the curtains. Turns out ducking was a bad choice as the cat-calling continued for another few minutes while I was trapped under my desk. And then I was too scared to come out for ages in case they were still there which means now my neck really hurts and I am in a foul mood.
Chuh. Bloody peeping Toms. Ooh, must remember to check out the guy who always does his ironing topless in the flat opposite during dinner. Mmm.
Wardrobe Malfunction Extraordinarre
October 5th 2010
Dear Diary,
Back at uni after summer and already disaster has struck- going out tonight and no clue what to wear. I have either staple outfit of high waisted skirt, pretty top and high high high fucking heels, or my Ann Summers Dress. Yes, yes, I know how it sounds, but it's really not that slutty. Well, okay, let's not lie, it is a little slutty. Just by having Ann Summers sewn into the label it's putting the sex out there really, right out on my chest- it is a little low cut. Okay, let's not lie again or I'll get black spots on my tongue or whatever that old bullshit is, I cannot wear a bra with it really, and if I bend over, well, I can't bend over. I'll probably just stick with the high waisted skirt, by far the safer choice.
Later...
Okay, dilemma. Am in the slutty black Ann Summers dress with goldy buckle thingies. And, as I have previously stated, I cannot wear a bra with said dress. However, going out, clubbing and drinking will inevitably lead to my arms up 'Stef Dance' which will inevitably lead to my breasts popping, or rather leaping, out my possibly slutty possibly edgy dress. Now we all know how to make them stay in, or rather have heard the urban legend of... boob tape. The product boasts incomparable security and stick for eight hours and sounds... pretty flawless, gotta say. Slight problem, just, the thing is, I don't have this wunder product so I'm making do with the next best thing which is, err, sticky back plastic. I mean, it's basically the same product, but one is for boobies and one is for making Blue Peter pencil holders (seriously how would they cope without the invention of sticky back plastic?). Shit, need to stick this bad boy down and then do the make up and hair business. Shit shit shit.
Later...
Okay, dress stuck down and boobs, well, they look fan-fucking-tastic, if I do say so myself. But wait- do I look like a tramp? No. Shit. Mirror is telling me I look okay but I'll never know until people start arriving and I can gague their reactions. And if the reactions are dodgy in any way, I shall just dash upstairs to change.
Even later...
People. Will not. Stop staring at. My fucking incredible breasts. Girls, guys, everyone here, I don't know what to do; whether to bask in the attention of it, or to be all prude-ish and offended, and, all in all a bit of a wowser. Went upstairs to get changed, totally screwed, of course cannot take off my dress and remove every piece of stupid, ridiculous, sticky bloody sellotape. Bugger bugger bugger. Will just have to go out and deal with putting the sex out there. Will let you know how it goes.
October 6th 2010
Hanging. Sticky back plastic not the same. Lost stick after about half an hour of the 'Stef Dance'.Boobs popped out. Brought Zach home. Putting the sex out there totally works, by the by.
Top Ten Tips To Avoid Involuntary Nakedness and Its Consequences
- Generally avoid tie-side bikinks if you want to avoid the inexplicable clothes falling off phenomenon.
- Never spring out of the sea believing you look like Ursula Andress without checking both breasts are covered.
- Close the curtains once in a while.
- Drink to success, not excess.
- But if you are drinking to excess ensure you are around people you can trust/won't take advantage of a bra-less situation, should one occur.
- Don't go out without underwear on for the sake of no VPL and then get out of a car. Paris, you heard it here first.
- Avoid token pervy fat guy in your friendship group at all costs.
- Bring spare pants wherever you go, just in case you end up somewhere unexpected.
- Do not participate in strip poker if you cannot play poker.
- Do not wear clothing that is attached to the body with sticky back plastic- it tends to lose it's stick.
