The Naked Truth about Nudity

Wednesday, 11 November 2015

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I find that, at times, I can become very aware that I’m living. I’ll feel every breath and hear my pulse. I notice every slight noise my body makes and become focussed that I am just that: a body. We become so self and appearance obsessed that we forget that we are human beings, thinking with a human mind in an utterly human body.

In times gone by it would have been difficult to forget that fact, as we would have seen each others’  naked bodies on a regular basis, what with fabric not having been invented and all. Then, we didn’t flaunt our wealth with the expensive clothes we wear, or perfect our attractiveness through pieces of cloth that hang on our bodies.

Body image doesn’t even seem to be about the body anymore; it’s more about how well your clothes fit you.

The fact that we rarely see the naked form has made us, as a society, quite uncomfortable with nudity. So much so, that any piece of skin we see becomes sexualised in an instant (particularly if you’re a female). Pieces of skin that really should not be sexualised as they are just part of our anatomies.

We are constantly told to cover up (again, this applies more to women). Our bodies are forever being viewed sexually, even when we do not want them to be seen as such. We get squeamish and embarrassed when the naked form is brought into conversation. It’s completely ridiculous.

We seem incapable of looking upon bare breasts or female nipples without sexualising them. We cannot escape from that fact.

If you like this post then you might like Why Do Wear Make-Up?

On those rare, hot British summer days, plenty of the male population go about their daily business without a shirt on, displaying their bare torso to the world. No one gives a second glance. It’s ordinary - nothing unusual. However, if a woman were to do the same she would be stared at in disgust and probably arrested for public indecency. Seem fair?

This hypothetic woman isn’t even naked! Her boobs shouldn’t be banned from seeing the sun. They have their own, unique function, which is completely unrelated to anything sexual. The only thing that makes them different from the male breast is the extra breast tissue/fat and the fact that they do actually have a function.

We really need to get grips with nudity; we need to stop viewing the female body as entirely sexual.  We may, as individuals, be comfortable with naked bodies, but as a society we are not.


Maybe - just maybe - we will reach that. Hopefully the next generation, or the generation after that, won’t feel the societal pressure to hide themselves. Now wouldn’t that be great?
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Would you believe that today is Another Ranting Reader's 6 month birthday? How time flies! Thank you to everyone who has read my posts and given me encouragement - it really means the world! Here's to another 6 months.

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Those Last Memories

Monday, 9 November 2015

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Why is it that when we are alone, lying in bed with the empty darkness surrounding us, that our deepest, darkest memories that had been presumed long forgotten, all start flooding back to us? Why is it that things we didn’t even know we remembered, are suddenly so vividly imagined in our minds?

A conversation once whispered in class. A walk taken in the depths of autumn. An act of stupidity destined to make us cringe forevermore.

Memories from five years into our past. 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 years ago. Little scenes that make it through the tough sieve of time. Snippets of our lives compact into a dream, a flashback. For some reason they are the memories that make it through and survive. They are the ones that make us alive.

We have a whole lifetime’s worth of memories and clips and scenes. They are all archived away in the dusty back corners of our mind. It can only take one, tiny trigger before a whole file comes cascading down and we see a film of our lives paying before our very eyes.

We become that person again. Although, there are many times, when we look back on our idiocy and regret every action we took at that point in time. 

These distant memories show us how much we have grown since it was formed. They allow us to realise that we have changed, in more ways than one. They are helpful in the fact that we can see, quite easily, how we have become a better person.


Life is weird. In many ways. We live so long that we forget most of the things we have said and done. And then suddenly, miraculously, some of those things are remembered - clear as day, like they were never forgotten



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Thank you for reading!

Jemima x




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5 things to do when you're feeling down

Friday, 6 November 2015

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1. Have a shower

Get yourself cleaned. Spend as long as you want standing under the water. Sing as loud as you can to whatever song it is that makes you smile.

2. Get changed into clean clothes

Wear something nice, that you feel comfortable in. Just make sure you don’t put on a clean pair of pyjamas on, that will just make you want to go back to bed.

3. Eat something reasonably healthy

As much as you may want to binge eat ice-cream: don’t. It’ll just make you feel worse. Eat something else. It doesn’t have to be all that great for you, just as long as it’s not junk food and has some sort of goodness in it.

4. Go for a walk

Clear your mind and listen to the sounds of the world. Go wherever your feet take you - just as long as you know your way home again!

5. Make yourself a cup of tea

Tea makes everything better.
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I Wonder | Collab with Katieswaytohappy

Wednesday, 4 November 2015

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I wonder what’s like to dance in the middle of an empty street at dusk? I wonder whether the wind would whistle through my hair as I jump up and down - whether a stranger, passing by, would dare to join me. Would the moon create a spotlight for me? Lighting up the dim and dusty tarmac. The old, fading road would become my stage. The music player made by the tap of my feet, the hoot of the night owl. Stage lighting edited and updated by the clouds moving across the flickering stars. Would rain burst down from the heavens? Splattering my face and my dancer’s feet. A flurry of birds, all shapes and sizes, clapping their wings and cheering me on as they line up on the branches of the trees around me - my own little concert hall.

Singing to the trees as they whistle back a tune that may be major, may be minor. It keeps modulating, between happy and sad, like the moods we have in our lives. Will the trees whistle a tune that will change our life this time? Or will the tune dampen our spirits? We don't know. It's ever changing, like the seasons. 

As we walk through the rain, will the clouds move to silhouette our walk? I wonder what it's like to skip through the rain, with your best friend and no one would be watching, except the owls that whistle, like the trees. I wonder whether the birds would stop in their flight and watch us, floating like an apple bobbing in the water. 

I wonder what it is like to picture your future and for it to come true. For it to be different to what we expect would not occur, because we had predicted what hadn't happened. A fatal turn, perhaps, or maybe a jump that saved our lives.

Who knows, I wonder could become I remember. You just have to make it happen. 




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This post a collaboration with my friend, Katie, who blogs at Katieswaytohappy! We each wrote part of the post and was really fun to do. Head over to her blog to read the other post we wrote!

Thanks for reading!

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A Brief Understanding

Monday, 2 November 2015

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There are things I no longer wish to understand:
Why people feel the need to hate. To antagonise. To taunt.
Why the world seems to choose a certain path for us all - sometimes we are unknowing and ignorant of it; sometimes we are not.

But there are some things I still crave an understanding of:
What happens to us once death has wrapped its cold arms around us, and welcomed us into it realm?
Why we, as humans, thought up the concept of an afterlife in the first place? Where did it come from?Who, or what, inspired it?
Where, exactly, do emotions come from? All that happiness, jealousy, love, hatred, panic and pain must come from somewhere. Our most human ingredient has to have a root, rather than sprouting from nowhere.

I want to know how we imagine. The vivid images in my mind fill my life with colour, with light and joy. I can sense new characters - meet people who do not exist. I create worlds and lives… But how?




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