I used to be a prude.

These days, I call myself a Permanude - albeit not by choice, for now…

The transformation started with the strangest sentence I’ve ever heard from a judge: five years of legally mandated nudism for skipping jury duty. At first, it was absolutely mortifying. Going to the store, answering the door, meeting friends—everything made me want to disappear. I became painfully aware of every glance and every whispered comment.

But after a while, something unexpected happened.  
I stopped caring.

The stares became background noise. The snickering lost its sting. Even the raised eyebrows became almost amusing. My required community service as a nude court clerk was awkward at first, but eventually I discovered that being nude didn’t automatically make every moment scandalous. Sometimes it was simply… ordinary.

And somewhere along the way, ordinary became comfortable.

Now my sentence is almost over, and everyone assumes I’m counting the days until I can put clothes back on.

They’re wrong.

I’ve discovered I genuinely like the freedom. No uncomfortable waistbands, no worrying about what to wear, no fussing over whether an outfit looks right. Just me, a pair of heels, and an enormous grin at how dramatically my life changed.

So when the paperwork arrives asking what I intend to do after my sentence ends, I already know my answer.

I’m applying for voluntary Permanudism.

Apparently, the woman who once couldn’t imagine being seen nude is now the woman who doesn’t want to get dressed.

I have to admit, that’s a pretty fun plot twist.

I’m applying to go Permanude voluntarily ! I just can’t go back!