My boyfriend just IMed me this link to a story about Christina Aguilera’s naked Sunday tradition … While he thinks it’s a great idea, I’m not so sure this layperson could swing the lifestyle.
What I found most odd was Christina’s use of the word “cozy” (although it’s spelled with an “s” in the blog … British? Spanish? Jeez that post is old…). She’s quoted: “When it comes to things like our cosy naked Sundays I think it’s important for Jordan and I not to lose ourselves … We have to be the cosiest couple around…” Hm. Am I a puritan or does “cozy” not make you think of old college hoodies and giant pajama pants, pretty much the opposite of bare ass on, say, a leather couch? Then I thought maybe naked Sundays, especially if adapted during a frigid Chicago winter, could include blankets. But that might get annoying … enter the Snuggie! A naked Sunday example would certainly spice up the infamous infomercial. But I’m afraid Snuggies would probably defeat the purpose of naked Sundays. I certainly don’t think the artist formerly known as Xtina would approve.
And another quote that caught my eye: “We don’t need to go anywhere, we’re just with each other. We do everything naked. We cook naked…” Cooking naked? Sounds potentially painful. While celebs probably don’t fry everything they eat in olive oil, and therefore suffer from popping grease attacks, I do … and bacon, which has the same effect on my stovetop, is definitely a non-negotiable Sunday breakfast component. Again, the Snuggie comes to mind as a possible solution (maybe it can be useful!), but I need to accept the fact that it’s not an acceptable option for the endeavor in question, and that I am officially lame.
With no feasible solution found and no real excuse other than lameness to use, for a second, I feared there was no pleasant way out. But then I saw a light in the most unlikely of places: I simply asked, “But aren’t Sundays for watching football with your boys?” Crisis averted.