The Sonia Show

Writer. Mocker. Beer drinker. Old movie watcher. Mother. Goober.

The naked truth

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Yeah, so, the San Francisco Board of Supervisors just passed a ordinance banning public nudity.

I’m confused. I thought it was already illegal to be naked in public, but apparently that is not the case.

Dammit! And to think, all this time I could have been walking around naked in public! I’m so sorry, everyone. I denied you an opportunity to stare longingly at my surgery scars,  covet my cellulite and have a good laugh at my unfortunate tan lines. I could have been completely naked except for a little kicky beret. Adorable!

What a missed opportunity.


So, yeah, there’s a lot of people freaking out about this. Some folks are saying this is part of the Disney-ification of San Francisco – making it all clean and family friendly. I think that’s a bullshit argument. Have you been to the Tenderloin? There’s nothing clean and family friendly in that hood. I figure this is just another random city ordinance that no one is going to enforce like drugs and panhandling, so I don’t know why everyone is freaking out.

Of course, this ordinance is really about the naked guys in the Castro. We’ve all seen them. Honestly, they don’t even phase me anymore. I just make a mental note not to sit on the bench where they were sitting. I could care less if they are naked. Even if I was in the Castro with the Spawn, and there was a naked guy, I wouldn’t cover Calvin’s eyes and run away. I’d probably say, “Oh look, naked guy,” and we’d go about our business.

The truth is I don’t understand the naked guys. I don’t get it. Can someone explain it to me? I wouldn’t walk around in San Francisco barefoot, let alone sit my naked ass on a public bench. Gross. Have you seen the public? Ewww.


Author: The Sonia Show

I'm a writer/podcaster/mother/goober in San Francisco who likes to drink beer, shop, laugh and make other people laugh, watch old movies, feed my unhealthy obsession with pop culture, kick breast cancer's ass, go on adventures with my mighty, mighty good man David and my awesome autistic son, Calvin, wear orange and root for the San Francisco Giants, participate in general jackass-ery, talk about TV, eavesdrop on strangers' conversations, make nerdy “Star Wars” and “Simpsons” references, and post personal things about myself on the web for all to read, which makes me some sort of literary exhibitionist.

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