.5: Before the Dress

I just had one of those days that shakes up everything you think you know. I won't get into that here, but I'm left with this ache of uncertainty. This is not a diary or a journal entry or anything. I'm definitely not the type to write all my secrets and desires where someone can read them. I'm probably going to delete this when I'm done. This is more like a writing exercise or something. I guess it's like that saying. "You have to know where you've been to know where you're going." So, I need to spend some time reflecting on who I am and what I want. I guess I'll start as far back as I can.

I was born October 5, 2006 to Jaro and Erin Stone. My dad is originally Czechoslovakian which is where I get my almond-shaped eyes. I imagine Stone isn't a popular surname in the former Czechoslovakia. The Stone family tree actually comes from England. My dad's grandfather was an English soldier in WWII when he was injured. My great grandmother was a Czech nurse who saved his life. After the war, the two of them were married and moved back to her family.

Dad fled the Iron Curtain in the 80s with his parents and settled in Florida which was where he met my mom. When I watched Deadpool and I saw Colossus, I was like "😀DADDY😁!" Because that's him. That's what he looks like. From the flat top, to the build, to the voice. Well, the hair is shorter and his accent has tone down alot since he moved here when he was 10, but when we go back to visit, that's exactly how he sounds. The temperament too. My dad is the sweetest, kindest giant you ever saw. Well, he's a giant to me. When I was little, I called him my "teddy bear." Just don't mess with someone he loves. He'll mess you're shit up. Oh, and he hates swearing too, just like Colossus. He's so cute.

Mom was born Erin Clear Brown, which is wear I got my middle name. She is the oldest of 4 sisters, but the only one who hadn't moved out of state. She wanted to have 7 or 8 children, but when she almost didn't survive my birth, the doctor said another pregnancy would almost certainly kill her. This news devastated her. I don't know how long she was like this, until she adopted the mantra "Count your blessings." I think she told me this every day. She told me that is when she decided to put all her love into me and Daddy.

The Orchard has been in my mom's family for 4 generations (The Brown Estate), not including me. My great, great grandpa built this house over a hundred years ago; however, it has been more of less gutted and rebuilt when my mom was younger.

As far as I know, Mamaw and Papaw were never nudists, so I don't know where my mom's affinity for nudism came from. I'd like to think she was born with it, like I was. Otherwise, I'd have to admit it was a learned behavior. I guess we're not going to solve the Nature vs Nurture debate here. Admittedly, I took to it earlier and more than she ever had. I'm sure there's many reasons for this, but before I get into that, I have a little more to cover first. Oh, and as far as my dad, the only time I've ever seen him with his pants down is when I opened the door to the half bath off the kitchen and he was sitting on the toilet.

It's hard to know how old you are in a certain memory unless there's something in the memory to footnote... What school you were at or what house or city you lived in. I'll try to keep the next events in order as much as possible.

One of my clearest, early memories, as far as I know, is my first day at kindergarten. I do remember, the year before, being given a "choice" to go to preschool. I could work on the grove and learn from nature or I could go into town and spend my day in a classroom. It was clear, to me and my parents, I should stay home; although, I'm not sure it was ever really up for debate. Nor was the decision to go to kindergarten. I hadn't yet learned that begging, whining, and crying NEVER worked. My parents also never bribed or pleaded with me. Their constitution must have been like iron. I don't know how they did it. Another one of those sayings my mom liked to say was "Oh, so is this where you argue with me?" Between that, the posture she had when she crossed her arms, and the steely eyes that she gave me, no response was going to allow me to stay home.

So there I am crying, missing my mommy, wishing I could run away, and the worst thing that could happen to me happened. That was the day I learned that overalls are not the easiest thing to wear when you have to pee. That's right, I had an accident on the first day of kindergarten, even though I was potty-trained at an early age.

Some of my best memories was coming downstairs Christmas morning wrapped in half my bed and opening gifts. Looking back on it, I can see they chose my gifts carefully. I always had to fake enthusiasm when gifts came from grandparents and stuff. I think that must have been a little hard for my mom. As much as she enjoyed a naked day at the beach or relaxing nude on the deck with an ice tea, she also liked stylish clothes, and what mother doesn't like dressing up her little girl. However, she found other ways to bond with me.

We both adored our family's horses. When my parents brought a pair of Haflingers home, they let me name them. My dad's horse had a lighter underside that reminded me of a chestnut. Meanwhile mom's horse looked like silky honey, so I called him Honeycomb. I was supposed to get my own horse when I was old enough, but when my mom passed, I inherited Honey. Now he joins me everywhere on the grove.

I mentioned before about my reasons for being the way I am. This might be one of them. You know how they say that when someone experiences a traumatic event, they can get stuck there mentally or emotionally? Well, that's been my experience... To a point. Sometimes I worry that I might be taking advantage of the circumstances a little. I'm not intentionally using my dad's memory of my mom and how I look alot like her to "get my own way," but I wonder if she would have allowed me to be as open as I am. Like, I should have grown out of this phase by now and kept it to things like sunbathing, like she did. Instead, I just doubled down.

This, whatever it is, wouldn't be complete without talking about Yasmin. I may be an only child, but I never really felt like one. From as far back as I can remember, Yasmin has always been a sister to me. We would bicker... we laughed... we teased her brother to no end. I especially loved embarrassing him. Although, he gave it back to us just as much as he took it. He would steal Yasmin's Barbies and we chased him so hard their maman would kick us out of the house, hollering at us until we disappeared in the trees. I'm not great at speaking Farsi... I can only have simple conversations. But I will never forget how to say "Get Out!" as long as I live. I should mention Yasmin and Kamran's maman is Persian. Their dad is from here. I don't know how they met, but I do know they bought the orchard next to us when Kamran was 2.

As much as I liked being who I am, Yasmin never followed suit. She wasn't apposed to taking baths with me or anything during our many sleepovers, but as soon as she was done, she enjoyed being wrapped up in a fluffy towel and dressed in some soft PJs. Even now she sleeps in some silk shorts and a tank top or full on "Clair Huxtable" pajamas. I like a fluffy towel as much as the next girl... but give me freedom. Even now, clothes can make me feel more insecure. I feel swallowed up and hidden away in clothes. Nudity let's me feel liberated and adventurous.

Speaking of freedom and adventure, I'm definitely an outside girl. I love everything from camping and hiking to working on engines with my dad. Last year, my dad and I took the dirt bikes to some beach campsites, but I'm getting ahead of myself again.

Over the next 10 years a lot of things have changed. Primarily, my work here on the grove. I have taken more of a leadership role, especially during harvest seasons. Because we hire more hands during these times, I take on a more managerial role. I'd ride up to see what the workers need, monitor progress, or lend a hand. Although these men are usually different from season to season, they usually all start calling me Lady Godiva. The first couple of times this happened, I didn't know who that was and I thought they had mistaken my name. So, I'd correct them and they would laugh at me. Eventually I had to look her up and I couldn't help but laugh too. From then on, I only had 2 choices. I could shrink up and try to ignore them or I could lift up my head and own it. I chose the second one. I want to live up to that name. Not simply because of the similarities while riding a horse, but because she stood up for the people, even if that meant going against her husband who was a powerful earl.

Not everything has changed though. My development has seemed gradual to put it mildly. I've always been the shortest person my age, and I've mostly been okay with that. I had to accept that I'm not like other girls, and the people who love me, love seeing the real me. I'm presently 4'11" and I have puffy cheeks for a girl who only weighs 95 pounds. My breast are what some call "sunny side up." That is, mostly flat with areolas. My butt and thighs have gained a little mass, but Yasmin still says I'm still considered rectangular shape. And the skin around my pussy is still the same color as the rest of my body.

Compared to Yasmin, I couldn't be any more different. If they made a gender-swap remake of Twins, Yasmin could play Arnold Schwarzenegger and I would be Danny DeVito. Most of the time however, I'm happy looking like me. I suppose it's not fare to compare myself to Yasmin because no one looks like her. Maybe Adrianne Palicki.

Yasmin has never even had an awkward phase. Oh, and don't think "she's peaked too early." Because no, now she looks even more impressive. She's taller, she's developed perfectly proportionate, and she's got all the right curves. She could be a Amazonian princess.

Her brother is no different. I mean, sure, he's always been a little lanky, but he's also always had that cute factor. And now, they are both like Greek gods. I shouldn't say this but I would love to watch them fuck. I don't even want to join in. I'd be happy just sitting there with my phone recording the whole thing. Ok, I'm definitely deleting this. What's wrong with me?

I have taken on more and more responsibilities, and I've taken a pride in those things. Not just here on the grove either. Because it's just me and my dad here, we go over to Maman's for the holidays. This past Thanksgiving, she let me take the lead on cooking the turkey. When I brought the turkey out, I saw that Maman awarded me with the seat at the head of the table. (I just love her.) And as I was carving the bird, while being the only one naked, I started to get a little emotional. You see, I've had this secret dream of being the center of attention as the only one naked in a black tie event. This obviously wasn't that formal, but it was kind of similar.

It's funny. I have this contradictory desires. On one hand, I think it would be really nice to live in a place where nudity is not only legal but normal. But on the other hand, sometimes I really like being the only nude person in town. Either way, I wish I could legally be naked all the time. In fact, something Yasmin said earlier today has me thinking my size might be a blessing. I might have gotten away with stuff someone Yasmin's size couldn't.

Alright, alright. I've been avoiding talking about Kamran long enough. I already said that I liked teasing him, but what I didn't say is that I also followed him around like a puppy. I'd hop in his car when I knew he was about to leave... I'd pester him while he was trying to clean his room or do his chores... I'd ask him questions, not because I was curious about the answer, but because I just wanted to hear him talk. I'm sure Yasmin thought I was crazy, and I can't believe he had so much patience with me. One of his strongest characteristics is his protective nature, especially with Yasmin and me. Which, I'm sure, is why he was so patient with me. He's alot like my dad in that way.

Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. My crush for Kamran was never going to be realized, and I knew if I didn't stop I'd go insane. So I stopped... I shut it down. After that first year in highschool, Kamran's last, I buried it. I had to accept my fantasy was never coming true. And I was happier, putting him behind me and moving forward. At least I thought I was. But when Kamran proposed... Oops... I mean, asked me to prom... (I hate those words. They sound so girly and childish at the same time.) I felt nervous... disbelief... excited all at the same time.

After I turned him down because of doubt and fear, and he persisted, I gave in. I was so happy; happier than I thought I could ever be. Now, all I feel is worry. He's asked me out tomorrow, and I should be excited, but all I feel is worried. He's going to break my heart. I know it. This is a really nice thing he is doing for his sister and friend, and when prom is over, he'll go back to college, and maybe he'll stop by during the summer, and I'll see him less and less until he's gone forever and so will my heart. So why go out tomorrow? Well, now it's today. I have to go to sleep or I'll never wake up in time to do my chores before he comes. I don't even know where we're going.