Dad And I Were Naked Together In The Bathroom
My family was fairly easy going, but we were not like these nudist families I have read about. When appropriate, we walked around in our underwear. We didn’t close the doors completely when changing, but if you don’t look in it doesn’t matter.
I was 16 years old. Mom had left early to chaperone my brother on a school field trip. I got up at 6:10 as usual, and went to the hall bathroom in my tank top and panties, as usual. The door to the hall bathroom was slightly ajar, and I could hear that Dad was taking a shower. (The shower in their bathroom had just been retiled). I went into my parent’s bedroom, closed but did not latch their bathroom door, and peed.
To tell you the truth, I was a lazy teenager. I remembered that Mom had folded my clothes, and a clean bra and panties was sitting on top of the laundry basket at the foot of their bed. I could hear Dad’s shower still going. A quick calculation, at the very least I had time to get out of the bathroom, put on the bra and panties before Dad got out of the shower.
I put my tank top and panties in the laundry hamper, and prepared to exit the bathroom, naked. BAM! The door opened, and knocked me into the sink and onto the floor. I looked around, and there stood Dad, completely naked, holding the towel he was about to put in his bathroom. (I later found out it had started raining, I was hearing the rain, not the shower).
I’m sure Dad has seen my breasts before, as I used to sleep in this loose fitting tank top, which I wore around the house. When I leaned over, everything was visible. Now I was completely naked with Dad, who was also naked. He could see I was hurt, rushed over to me. I tried to get up, but could not. He had to help me up, and I was in a lot of pain. Dad helped me over to the bed (remember that we are both still naked). I was sweating and in a lot of pain.
Now what. I had to go to the hospital. Am I going to let anyone see me like this? NO! I needed to get dressed. But I couldn’t move to get my clothes. Dad picked out some pants and a top. I was a quite the brat, and (from my naked position lying on the bed) I said they did not match properly. After a few tries, he picked a matching outfit. Then he picked out a bra and panties. I rejected the bra as not matching! (Now that I have kids, I cannot even imagine this juvenile behavior).
Finally, the right clothes after about 10 minutes. But, with my painful arm and leg, I could not get anything on. So, Dad had to dress me. (Can you girls imagine at age 16 your Dad putting on your bra and panties?) Dad couldn’t put on the pants and top, because I was in too much pain. So, he dressed me in a non-matching tank top and sweats. He then got dressed, and helped me up. I asked him to get me some makeup, and Dad gave me one of those looks.
OK, now he carried me down the steps, and helped me toward the car. WAIT. I had to pee again. This meant that Dad would have to help me in the bathroom, but at that point I really did not care. (Hey girls, side benefit. When I had my first kid and the whole world was in my crotch working, it seemed easy.)
OK, off to the hospital. I just told them I slipped in the bathroom, and omitted the details. I left with a cast on the arm, splints on my hand, and crutches but nothing broken in the legs. What did I do? I got mad at him because these cute interns saw me in non-matching clothes with no makeup.
Needless to say, I had to drop off the track team that year. But I healed. Eventually, I married a doctor, so I guess whatever I missed with the cute interns didn’t cost me.
Dad and I agreed not to share this story, but I am sure he told Mom. They had a great marriage. I am only sharing this now because Dad passed away last year. My computer-phobic Mom will likely never find this on the internet.
Being naked with Dad gave me a whole new perspective on him, and it helped our relationship. Before this, I was in awe of him. He was almost too good for me. After being naked with Dad, he became a person in my eyes. I began to speak to him about politics, his work, the family history, and 100 other subjects I never would have brought up. The conversation that followed this incident made me what I am today.