When I am Queen, I will declare it mandatory that once a day, every day, every single person must go outside and do a naked cartwheel or it’s off with their head.
Can you imagine how much better this world would be if that was the law? Picture your grouchy neighbor, putting down his cigar and grumbling out to his front lawn, stripping down and flinging his body parts about.
Or the nice lady across the street, running out moments before the strike of midnight to do her naked duty. “That was a close call, Helen!”
Or walking through a strange new neighborhood, or a city, or an office complex and every once in a while catching a glimpse of someone twirling, buns-ablazin’, through their daily requirement.
Not only would it provide 365 days of top quality entertainment, but it would wipe out pretentiousness, horror and shock over the naked body, the need to feel cool, shame, fear of being upside down and that nagging, nonstop need to know what everybody you’ve ever laid eyes on looks like naked.
I mean, if that’s your thing.
This week’s Little Badass is one Marcy Currier, who sent in this glorious photo of herself worshiping the sun where the sun rarely shines: