At home, Edith wasn't back yet, but my parents soon undressed so they could get ready for bed.
In my room, I undressed to put on pajamas and realized, why would I need one?
So, I stayed nude and went to brush my teeth.
When I got out. My mom saw me nude and just smiled. I think she wanted to say something but was afraid to jinx it.
My father did say something after the bedside story, however. I blocked it, but it was to say how glad he was I was coming back. Not specifically to naturism, but to myself. As if for him, being a naturist was a core part of my personality.
Back then, it felt weird to imply it, but today, I would say he was right. Not just for me today, but even back then. That my lack of naturism while on Ritalin was a clear sign that I wasn't myself.
Well, that bothered me that night. I wouldn't say that I slept badly, but Sunday morning, I realized that my sheets were mostly on the ground and that I had tossed and turned enough to end up sleeping in the cold air of my room.
I was almost freezing!
Now, one thing you have to understand is that in a naturist family, the AC is set to a higher point, but heating too. Except that my sister isn't a naturist, and I wasn't. So my parents decided to basically tough it up and keep the thermostat where it was.
This was still October, but even in October, there are chilly nights where, without heating, the house can get cold. Not enough to need to put on a jacket on top of your blouse cold, but certainly put a blouse on if you are nude cold.
I relieved my bladder, still nude, which helped a ton. But then, I realized that the kitchen wasn't that cold. That's not fair. Why is my room colder than the rest of the house?
But then, I saw it. The sun is up and heating the curtains of the living room and the kitchen, while my room is on the North side of the house and, thus, doesn't get any heat from our star.
I went to the thermostat to raise the heat and stopped a laugh, as I was the only one awake. Looking at it, I noticed that it was still in cooling mode and set to 73. I switched to heating, and it instantly went to... well, 73. Except that now, the 64 it was showing triggered the heat pump and began cycling warm air into the ducts.
I grabbed a sitting towel for the first time in roughly 2 years and sat at the kitchen table until I felt comfortable enough.
I stood up, picked up a plate, a knife, and the margarine. I dipped the knife in the white butter substitute and wiped it on the side, making sure it wasn't obvious. I rinsed my plate in the sink and put it, with my knife, in the dishwasher.
Breakfast properly faked.
I count on my fingers. We ate early Saturday so my parents could make it on time to the event. I think we ended around 5:30. I would eat lunch around noon; that's roughly 18 and a half hours of fasting. It's far from the 23 I now manage to get during the week without feeling hungry. And it's certainly far from last Wednesday.
I had managed to go to Olivia's house after school. I told her I would eat at home, and I told my parents I ate at her place.
I felt so good going to sleep that night, and when I ate supper Thursday, after almost 48 hours without any food, I almost felt sad to have broken my fast. My mind was so sharp, my creativity was through the roof, and I even managed to have a light supper.
I didn't mention it earlier because of the leotard's first return to the non-landed club timing confusion.
I had planned to resume that schedule from now on, but I had a new plan, but it was risky. Very risky.
What if I manage on the weekend to go see Marge or Olivia in the morning and then go see the other one? I could skip lunch and perhaps even supper.
It would be delicate, but I could do it. It certainly was working fine.
You might be wondering why I was thinking like that?
Well, I realized something. If I do something halfway, I get halfway decent results. If I commit to it 100%, I get exceptional results.
I am pushing myself with the dancing practice, and Mrs. Sanchez is seeing the results. I went full steam forward with math, and I am amongst the best in school now for my grade.
So, if I am to bring naturism back into my life, I need to go full steam ahead, except at school or with Olivia.
Am I getting radicalized, both with school studies, with my dance practice, with my fasting, and now with naturism? Full-on. I am not even hiding from it.
I spent 18 months stoned and on autopilot and then a summer recuperating. I missed the sun on my nude skin at Mindy's resort; I wasn't about to miss fun family time in the nude.
Well, I would be 14 only once, and I spent over half of it stoned.
I knew what 15 would bring. I did, because I saw Edith, Marge, and even Mindy get throught it.
During that period, I did see Robert a few times so he could judge my progress. All of those times occurred during the time jump. Well, both of them, I would see him again in a few weeks.
In his mind, I was less than 12 months until menarche. Yes, I still love that word.
And according to him, I would develop a bad taste in men either before then or right after that.
Mindy did find Billy well before her menarche, but Marge found Dave soon after, and Edith found Charlie a few months later.
Now, before you think he is judging me for claiming it would be a bad taste in men, it was again his sense of humor around the fact that he is a straight man. He sees no point in dating boys. Not when he was a teen, and even less today.
His sense of humor might be cringe, but it worked to lighten the mood.
But he also confirmed that I wasn't quite ready for it. It would be a few months, at least.
Well, I had goals to achieve before then. You knew many of them: get back into shape, develop my dancing skills, patch things up with Marge, Edith, and perhaps even with Mindy.
Fine, Edith and I were okay, but we had constant interactions to keep us okay, and Edith was focused on her recovery and her boyfriend.
Ok, maybe we aren't fully okay, but in the summer, she was there to help me recover, and I think we reconnected.
So, my next two steps were nudity at home and at Marge's and reconnecting with her.
I went downstairs in my parents's office. This was my routine. Only once did I catch my mom down there in the morning, and she basically admitted using the same trick as I was.
Instead of hanging out in the living room while the others slept, we would hang out in my parents's office to avoid making noise.
That Sunday morning, I was alone, so I practiced my dancing moves.
I was getting more and more fluid in my movements, and I was starting to draft a story in my mind.
I had discovered that dancing could involve some jumping, not just some shuffling of feet on the ground. That, I liked. If only because it forced me to work on my balance and coordination.
Mrs. Sanchez proposed that I work with Mr. Cook on a story for my dance recital. I like that idea because I did like my English teacher.
But Mr. Cook wasn't of the idea that we should work together. His contribution would only be to help shorten it and make it fit as a song. His philosophy was to not influence my inspiration.
And that morning, while surrounded by my parents's work things, such as their computers, desk phones, accounting books, and various printers, I was inspired.
Seriously, what's up with having that many printers? Small ones, big ones, tall ones...
Anyway, my character, played by me, was kept prisoner in a dystopian sci-fi prison for rebellious kids, and she is escaping her cell block.
I would start shackled and break free, but then I would need to escape lasers, jump over obstacles, and ramp under smoke screens. I didn't even mind if it was just a mime and none of the obstacles were on the stage. It was a pretext, subtext.
The actual text, thus, would be a cry for freedom, for individuality, and for human rights.
By the time my mom arrived downstairs, I had commandeered a notebook and was writing down rhymes and prose.
She smiled when she saw me and did something I hadn't seen coming. She started a coffee in the basement coffee machine.
I knew of the one upstairs; it's a modern, new one, but I didn't realize they had one downstairs too. There is a restroom, but their office has so many things that I didn't register that the black plastic thing was for coffee.
"Slept well, Kiddo?" asked my mom.
"I did. What about you?"
"Like a baby. Did you have fun yesterday?"
I laugh. "No, yes, maybe, all of the above"
"Right, with Marge, it seemed intense. I am happy you patched things up"
"Well, it's a work in progress. I have to see Olivia today for a group project, and I'll try to see Marge."
"Well, your father and I are going to see Ellie, so we can give you a lift. But I might be able to drop you at Olivia. It's a non-landed club election meeting with Gabriella, Carmen, and maybe Piper"
"Oh, when is that?"
"Right after lunch,"
If my parents are at Marge's, I can't fake eating there. But I might have a chance to talk to Gabriella today, to talk about my ideas. I can't put my hopes up; she has a grown-up meeting. Even my parents might not be available.
"What's the weather like today, do you know?"
"I think around 70. Not bad"
"Oh, I could just bike to Olivia this morning, eat there, and then join you at Marge"
"I don't like when you get food from her; she doesn't have much money"
"She has a job, and I am there to help her," I say, lying.
I don't like lying. I have to pretend that she needs my help so I can be there over lunch so I can skip a meal.
"Fine, I'll give you twenty for her, then," she sighs. "I know she made the difference between you failing and excelling. And I like how positive you were when you saw her."
"Thank you, Mom; you guys are the best," I said, hugging her.
I can hug my mom at home, even if we are nude. Don't judge me. It wasn't a hypocritical hug. I might be lying about my motivations, but I am not lying that I think that she is the best.
She had a big subject to talk tot me about, but it's about Edith, and well, I don't feel comfortable talking about it for now. Just know that this is when I was told of a few things about Edith that will come to light in a few episodes.
I try to be more reliable and honest with you guys. I do!
But that led to another conversation since I needed an adult to talk to me about it.
"Mom, Marge told me something last night"
"Well, I am happy you are talking"
"Me too, but I don't know what to think about a few things she told me"
"Sure, I'll be your sounding board"
"But I mean, I don't think Ellie knows"
"Is Marge in danger?"
"I don't think so"
"Then I won't tell Ellie. It's important for me to know that you can tell me anything. Really anything, kiddo."
But I can't tell her that I am intermittent fasting. She worries when I don't eat enough. If she knew I was skipping meals, she would go ballistic.
"Ok so I know she dated Dave"
"I met him!" said my mom.
"You did?"
"I was with Ellie at her place. She asked me not to undress because Marge's boyfriend was coming over. But Marge was nude. I mean, I guess Ellie didn't want to expose that poor boy to adult nudity? He seemed nice"
"Apparently, he wasn't at the end, but I don't know more."
"Oh, poor Marge."
"But I knew she had another boyfriend, but not who. The thing is, it wasn't a boyfriend. It was a girlfriend. Jennifer, whom I know, but I didn't know they were dating"
"Is that what worried you? It's fine to be bisexual, Julie. You know Piper and Jaclyn, at the non-landed club? They are gay"
"No, Mom, this is 2015. It's not that which I don't understand. She says she isn't bisexual; she is grayromantic"
"Oh, I don't know that one"
I explained, and to her credit, my mom got it in the first try.
"Oh, Kiddo. I don't want to burst her bubble, but she might just be confused."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I am not an LGBTQ expert. I am just purely heterosexual. I don't have an ex-girlfriend or something. But I know what it feels like being a teenager, like you". She paused. "Ok, maybe not like you; you had delayed puberty. Let's say, like Marge. Well, she is autistic. Wait, Julie, do you have a normal, neurotypical friend?"
"Edith, Mindy, and Olivia"
"Oh, kiddo, none of them are fully normal. Wow. Ok, let's take Olivia. I only met her a few times, but she seems more normal"
"Wait, what's wrong with Mindy?"
"Nothing is wrong with Mindy. But she is not the type of girl that struggled even in my time. Very extroverted, insane amount of self-confidence, and feels no sense of insecurity. In my time, had she been a textile girl, she would have been head cheerleader or something. The queen bee. Naturism kept her grounded. Well, Clara did"
"Ok, fine, so let's take Olivia. What about her?"
"Well, we live in a world where sexual promiscuity of teenagers and access to pornography are ubiquitous, which means"
"I know what it means, mom"
"Right, so if Olivia gets a boyfriend, he might not understand that she doesn't do sexting or that she isn't willing to have sex on the third date. To him, sex is normal and expected."
"So?"
"So if she isn't ready, she will claim she is demisexual or graysexual or something to sort of distinguish herself from other girls. But like, when I was a kid, we didn't have dyspraxia and almost no autism or ADHD. Those kids were just, well, left behind. Or got bad grades, or got held back and had to find a way to succeed. Now, it's like everyone gets a diagnosis, which is a good thing. You got yours and got adjustments, and well, now you prosper. In my time, you would have struggled more and more and might have finished like Sandy. Maybe she had issues and took alcohol and drugs to numb the pain of failure. We will never know"
"I see. So there were demisexuals and graysexuals in your time too?"
"No, that's the thing. I am sure there are really demisexuals and graysexuals, but, like, it was common for teenagers to date in high school and not even have sex. It was common to have sex, but, like, it wasn't 100% of the couples. Like Edith and Charlie are the outliers, but many of my friends were dating and not sexual. They felt too young. Today, with sex present everywhere, it's like Marge had to find a label to justify how she feels attraction. And I don't want to say that she is wrong. We know she is autistic. Maybe it comes with the territory. But the thing is, today, everything is labeled. You can't just be you. And I think that this is sad"
I listen to her.
"I didn't think of that. I guess it is. "
"And kiddo, I have no problem with an adult saying they are graysexual or demisexual. My issue is how many teenagers are just not yet mature enough to be sexually active and apply a label on their lives that will follow them even after they mature. Because, Julie, if you had convinced yourself that you couldn't succeed in math, you wouldn't have. But you correctly saw your visuospatial dyspraxia as a handicap to overcome, and look at you today."
I smiled. Yeah, I can be proud of myself for that.
"And kiddo, we don't know what Marge really is when it comes to relationships and sex. I don't want you to think that she is necessarily confused or immature. Maybe she really is grayromantic, bisexual, or whatever she defined herself as today, or perhaps she is still figuring it out for herself. And both are fine. It's part of life, you know?"
"I do"
"But, Julie, I want you to listen to me. You have the same right to explore, you know? If you come out as asexual today, straight tomorrow, bisexual next week, and gay the next one. We'll just try to keep up. It's your life. As long as you are safe, we will love you."
"Thanks Mom", I told her.
I told her about my dance idea, and she was thrilled with the subject! Apparently, her generation (X) cared a lot about freedom.
"Maybe tonight, we can watch one of my favorite movies as a family"
"Sure"
Dad was the next one up, and they ate breakfast together as I played some Animal Crossing. He was happy to see I was nude but didn't overstate it.