Daddy Runs a Lot……Naked?

I’ve never had someone come over here to Mommy Undressed and guest post…so I’m super excited that The Adventures of Daddy Runs a Lot (aka John or @daddyrunsalot ) is popping my cherry! *giggle* I absolutely love his style of writing and always enjoys what he has to say over here on my modest blog. Sad to say though that I don’t comment nearly as much over on his blog as he does here, but I do get overly excited when I see he has put up a new post. When I asked him last week if he would guest post I felt like a little school girl asking the cute boy at school if he would sit next to me at lunch. I was actually afraid he’d say no. So when he said yes, I almost drop my laptop. So without further ado *drum roll* ………I present to you…….. *cue trumpets* the ‘naked’ side of Daddy Runs a Lot! *aplause*

That I follow someone with the twitter handle of @mommyundressed is probably not a shock to anyone. It’s well-known that I have a great . . . well, let’s call it “an appreciation” of the female form. And as we all know that Al Gore invented the Internet as a means so that we can all see each other naked before ever possibly meeting in real life, so a woman who has birthed children, who tweets naked is right up my alley.

But, here’s the thing. Brandi doesn’t post pictures of her jubblies her nude self all over the place . . . no, her brand of “undressed” is one we call can relate to. Sure, we all know how she came upon her handle — and how it might stem from a very real “she wasn’t wearing any clothes” time in her life, but that’s inconsequential. Besides, she doesn’t post nude pictures here — not that I’ve checked or anything.

I’d argue, in this modern day & age, that writing about yourself, honestly, leaves you more-naked (is there such a thing?) than being caught wallpapering city hall with pictures of you in your birthday suit, while wearing your birthday suit, while loudly reciting love poetry that you wrote in the 7th grade¹. If you turn the corner, there is always someone willing to show a little skin. But, with the Internet, we have a ginormous mask, should we chose to wear it. Give me an hour and I can create a character and have you convinced that I am midget who, despite Switzerland’s stance of religious tolerance, sought asylum for religious reasons in Mexico, where I became a wrestler and then hopped the border, but after losing a steel cage match, started working as a circus clown and porn producer in Utah.

Unless you actually see me typing, and realize that I don’t speak German or French or Italian Belgian or Spanish well, you’d really have a hard time proving that I’m not who I say I am.

Purple is the new black². 40 is the new 30. An honest blog is the new naked.

I think that makes me an online nudist . . . and not just on #nopantsfridays.

So, even without nekkid pictures about, I love coming over to this blog, because it’s a place where honesty abounds. It’s not always happy honesty . . . sometimes it’s brutal. But, it’s heart-felt.

So, I guess it’s time that I go the full monty myself . . .

I know I’m not the husband that I want to be. I’m sure I could be a better father. I’d rather spend my day writing or playing or goofing off than working, and I have no idea what that means. I have projects, really important & personal stuff, that I just can’t seem to finish — and I worry about what that failure means. I fear that I’m walking the road to alcoholism. I’ve had to force a smile more often than not at times in my life – and I wonder if there will be a point where I don’t even remember what it’s like to not have to fake a smile. I hold onto past events and overanalyze them until a single event is a series of massive failures of my past — and that’s when I’m thinking back on a GOOD memory.

Along the same line, though – I am loved. I know I elicit smiles from two little snots who don’t know how to fake a smile (though they both know, quite well, how to fake a tear). I love to give more than that I want to receive. I can find beauty in most any situation.

And there you have it. Now stop staring, unless you’re gonna do something that that tongue that’s wagging out of your mouth.