"In a culture that esteems bearing a bit of leg, some skin, much cleavage, the naked truth is we shun nudity.
I’m not referring to taut leather, flabby flesh, tanned figures—that’s epidermis. But I speak of genuine nakedness, stark bareness: soul exposure.
The curve of our struggles, the paleness of our dreams, the unflattering roll of our insecurities. Stripped exposure terrifies.
The wrinkled smallness of our own souls mortifies and we scramble for a fig leaf to cover the twistedness of our being.
We cling to masks.
Tight and itchy, they protect us, these societal shrouds. Some wear toupees of toughness, others pull on girdles of levity. Or facades of flawlessness, pretenses of perfectionism, screens of superiority...."
Read the rest of Ann Voskamp's excellent post here.
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