These days, people are running around buck naked. Or, more precisely, as close to naked as they can get. Even as the air chills with the early inklings of autumn, the push to be bare persists.
I used to aspire to be as bare as I could be. When I was midway through fifth grade, my family moved from one Cleveland suburb to another, so I had to switch schools mid year. This wasn’t ideal socially. Also, the school where I began the year had students take sex education in the fall, while the school I was moving to held the class in the spring. As a result I was going to have to look at diagrams of birth canals and penises twice in one school year, which almost killed fifth-grade me.
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