Hey readers! Welcome back to another installment of my Question of the Week series, where I tackle thought-provoking questions from Gregory Stock’s The Book of Questions. This week’s question is actually a three-parter:

How much do you like your body? If you awoke on a warm morning and were going to laze around by yourself, how long would it be before you looked in a mirror? If you sleep in the nude, how long before you put on clothes?

This question digs into how we feel about our physical selves when nobody’s watching. It’s just us, our bodies, and our private routines. No Instagram filters, no carefully chosen outfits—just the raw, unfiltered experience of inhabiting our skin.

My Take

I’ll be honest with you all: I can’t say I like my body all that much. To quote Chris Farley in the classic film Tommy Boy, I have a bit of what doctors call “a weight problem.” I don’t have what one would consider a “desirable” body shape. In fact, I’m not sure I could even qualify as looking good enough to have a “dad bod.”

But does that stop me from strutting around my apartment next to naked? Nope!

And I say “next to naked” because I always typically have shorts on. But most of the time I’m shirtless and barefoot, whether I’m awake or sleeping. Something about the freedom of not being confined by a shirt feels right at home.

So here’s where it gets interesting: despite not being thrilled with my body’s appearance, I rarely rush to put on clothes when I’m alone. I don’t avoid mirrors, but I’m not seeking them out either. When I wake up on those warm mornings mentioned in the question, looking in a mirror isn’t high on my priority list. I might catch glimpses as I pass by the mirror when I stop into the bathroom, but it’s not like I’m standing there examining myself.

This creates an interesting contradiction that I’ve only recently started to notice. If I asked you to guess my habits based solely on how I feel about my body, you might assume I’d be quick to cover up or avoid mirrors. But that’s not the case at all.

The Comfort Paradox

I think there’s a fascinating distinction between liking how your body looks and being comfortable in your own skin. These aren’t necessarily the same thing. I might not love what I see in the mirror, but I’m comfortable enough with myself to exist in my space without feeling the need to hide.

Maybe it’s because my apartment is my sanctuary. When I’m home alone, there’s no judgment, no sidelong glances, no comparing myself to others. It’s just me being me, and there’s something profoundly liberating about that.

It reminds me that comfort with oneself operates on multiple levels. There’s the aesthetic level—how we feel about our appearance—and then there’s the more fundamental level of simply existing in our bodies without self-consciousness.

I suspect many of us have experienced this disconnect. Maybe you’re not thrilled with how you look in swimwear, but you still enjoy the sensation of swimming. Or perhaps you don’t love how your voice sounds recorded, but you still sing in the shower without hesitation.

The Mirror’s Role

Mirrors are interesting devices in our self-perception toolkit. They provide an external view of ourselves that we can’t otherwise access. For some, mirrors are affirming tools for self-admiration or careful grooming. For others, they’re anxiety-inducing reality checks.

In my case, mirrors are mainly functional. I use them when I need to—shaving, making sure I don’t have food stuck in my teeth, checking if my clothes match. I don’t avoid them, but I don’t seek validation from them either.

When the question asks how long before I’d look in a mirror on a lazy morning, the answer is: whenever I happen to pass by one on the way to something else. It’s not an event. It’s incidental.

The Clothing Question

As for the clothing part of the question—how long before I put on clothes—well, as I mentioned, I’m never fully nude around my apartment. Shorts are my minimum baseline. But a shirt? That might not happen until I need to step out or hop on a video call.

There’s something about being partially clothed that feels like the perfect balance between comfort and readiness. I’m not completely exposed, but I’m not fully dressed either. I’m in a liminal state that feels right for my personal space.

I think this habit speaks to the comfort level we develop in our private domains. There’s a version of ourselves that exists only within the confines of our homes—a version that isn’t concerned with societal expectations or dress codes.

Room for Improvement

Despite my comfort with casual half-nakedness around my place, I’m aware that my relationship with my body isn’t ideal. As I mentioned earlier, I don’t particularly like my body, and that’s something I recognize needs work.

I said it earlier, and I think it’s important enough to repeat: It’s important that we are comfortable with who we are in our own skin. The fact that I’m not just means I have some work to do.

This might involve physical changes through exercise and nutrition, but it also involves mental and emotional work. Learning to appreciate my body for what it can do rather than just how it looks. Recognizing that the bodies we see in media are often unrealistic standards. Understanding that my worth isn’t tied to my appearance.

The Bigger Picture

Stock’s question is deceptively simple, but it opens up a whole conversation about body image, privacy, comfort, and self-perception. How we behave when nobody’s watching reveals truths about our relationship with ourselves that we might not otherwise examine.

I find it telling that my behavior (comfortable being partially undressed) doesn’t align with my stated feelings about my body (not liking it much). This disconnect suggests that somewhere, beneath the self-criticism, there’s a baseline comfort with myself that persists despite my conscious thoughts.

Maybe that’s a starting point for developing a healthier relationship with my body. Maybe the fact that I can be comfortable in my skin, even if I don’t love how it looks, is a foundation I can build on.

Your Turn

So, readers, I’ve laid bare (pun intended) my thoughts on this question. Now I’m curious about yours. How much do you like your body? When you’re alone on a lazy morning, how long before you look in a mirror or put on clothes? Do you notice any contradictions between how you feel about your body and how you behave when nobody’s watching?

Drop your thoughts in the comments below. And remember, wherever you are in your journey with body image, you’re not alone. Many of us are navigating these same waters, trying to find comfort in our skin while living in a world that often tells us we should look different than we do.