I wear tank tops year-round because I'm terrified of getting pit stains. I laugh at inappropriate times, like when people fall or take off their shirt. I see every mirror as an opportunity to check out the status of my chest area.
You do stuff like that too. We all do. To me, there is no such thing as too much information. We pick our noses, we drool when we sleep and we fart, even girls - and guess what? They poop too.
Telling the truth is not only liberating, but it brings people together. When you expose a dirty secret or talk about something taboo, you are inevitably erasing the stigmatism around the issue. It's when you really share things about yourself, especially things involving embarrassment and nudity, that you forge a friendship.
When I got my roommate assignment freshman year, I was unsure if we'd really hit it off. Our first phone conversation was polite, but I could tell we were both holding back.
I am bringing a TV ...(awkward silence)... and a DVD player,"" she told me after basic telephone introductions. ""And if it's cool, I am going to hang up a Harry Potter poster.""
""Oh great!"" I said, feigning enthusiasm. ""I'm pretty much OK with anything.""
Had I been honest I would have said I had grown up and gotten a life since the sixth grade. I needed to bring up the important stuff.
""I don't like wearing pants,"" I blurted out.
""Umm, ex-excuse me?""
""I said I don't like watering plants.""
""Oh,"" she said relieved. ""Then we won't have any.""
She seemed nice. She was a nice girl who read nice Harry Potter books and bought nice things for our dorm. But my favorite things about people have always been their imperfections - their moles, their embarrassing sexual encounters, their lapses in hygiene - and I wanted more from her than a DVD player.
The niceness continued until one humid day in early fall. She walked into our room, flushed and oppressed in her heavy denim jeans. Watching the beads of sweat drop down her face, I worked up the nerve to tell her what had been burning inside me since we met. I played with the wording in my head but finally just spit it out.
""Kendall, do you think we could enact a no-pants policy in our room?""
""Sure,"" she said casually, peeling her pants off like I'd just thrown 20 bucks down her g-string, revealing her cherry red boy shorts.
This was the start of something beautiful - and no, not girl-on-girl porn.
At this moment, we entered a new dimension of friendship. Our eyes locked, and we both knew this wasn't just two people living together without pants. It was a marriage of sorts - but happier and with just as little sex.
This breaching of unexplored territory led us to discuss our hatred of pants, when we felt grandma panties were acceptable (not on the weekends) and urination in various public places.
At the beginning of the year, you're surrounded by people you barely know, and it feels normal to self-censor things because they seem too strange. You might be embarrassed to tell people you were the one who started the ""High School Musical 2 4EVER!"" Facebook group. But in order to become close friends with someone, complete disclosure is necessary - even if they do find out you have no taste whatsoever.
It's when you get to the ""nitty-gritty-I've-never-told-anyone-this-peeing-my-pants-at-Target-story"" that you really start to get somewhere. That's where friendship starts, and it's a warm, tingling feeling.
If you want to tell Ashley about the things you do pantless, contact her at ""aaspencer@wisc.edu."":mailto:aaspencer@wisc.edu
