Let’s take off more than our clothes

Alright, sister. You picked up this book—or clicked it, scrolled to it, stumbled onto it while Googling “can boobs get sunburned”—because something deep inside you whispered, “There’s gotta be more than this itchy bra and never-ending laundry pile.”

Maybe you’re curious. Maybe you’re tired. Maybe you’ve stared at your reflection too many times with the kind of side-eye usually reserved for expired yogurt. Or maybe, like me, you’ve spent a chunk of your life trying to tuck, suck, hide, smooth, spanx, and shave your body into something “acceptable,” only to realize... hell no. I’m done.

This book is for women like us. Real women. Women with belly rolls and stretch marks and thighs that introduce themselves before we do. Women with a past. Women who maybe had a Chad or two. Women who used to hide in their towel after a shower like the FBI was watching. This book is about becoming a naked goddess—not the airbrushed, scented-candle, Instagram-filter kind. The loud-laughing, fully-living, no-pants-needed kind.

I’m Kristin. I’m 38, have a questionable history with online dating, once used cooking spray as thigh lube in an emergency, and I accidentally became a nudist five years ago. Not because I was trying to be cool or edgy or earthy. No, honey. I just got tired of feeling like my body was a problem. And let me tell you, nothing fixes body issues like walking around with your butt out in public and realizing nobody exploded.

The first time I got naked outside my own bathroom, I was terrified. I thought I’d be laughed at, stared at, maybe tackled by security. Instead, I got a high-five from a woman named Bev, a sunburn in a spot I didn’t know could burn, and—for the first time in my adult life—a real sense of peace. Like, “Ohhh… this is who I am when no one’s selling me control-top underwear.”

Being a naked goddess isn’t about being sexy (unless you wanna be). It’s not about being young or thin or shaved in any particular direction. It’s about owning your body the way it is. Right now. It’s about peeling off shame like a sweaty pair of jeans and saying, “This is mine. And it’s magnificent.”

Now, don’t worry—I’m not gonna tell you to toss your wardrobe and move to a nudist commune in the woods (unless that’s your dream, in which case call me, I’ve got connections). What I am going to do is walk you through everything I’ve learned about how nudity changed my life, and how it can unlock yours too.

You’ll get practical tips (like how to not sit on leather furniture unless you want to leave a skin donation), real talk about body confidence, hilarious cautionary tales (Susan is involved, she always is), and encouragement that isn’t sparkly fluff but real-deal, laugh-through-your-tears truth.

If you’re ready to get back in touch with your body, your confidence, your joy—and yeah, probably your butt cheeks—this is your book. No judgment, no pressure, no weird rituals (unless you’re into that). Just me, you, and a whole lot of truth... in the buff.

Let’s strip it all down, babe. We’re becoming goddesses now.