That Time I Fell Naked Into A Bush Ass First…

De: Kristin Williams

Narrado por: Virtual Voice

My left butt cheek is still mad at me.

You know how some people have elegant stories about self-discovery? Like they found themselves while hiking the Alps, drinking herbal tea brewed by a monk, and journaling about gratitude in a linen robe?

Yeah. That’s not this book.

I found myself ass-first in a bush, screaming “WHY IS THIS SO SPIKY?!” while naked, holding a soggy banana, and trying to practice “mindful breathing” like some kind of deranged, bare-skinned woodland goblin.

Hi. I’m Kristin. And I didn’t mean to become the kind of person who regularly gets tangled in shrubbery while nude—but life has plans, and apparently, mine involved butt splinters and radical self-acceptance.

This book isn’t just a collection of cautionary tales involving questionable outdoor nudity, although yes, you’re going to read about the time I got a pine needle lodged in a place pine needles don’t belong. It’s also about the beautiful, chaotic, wildly imperfect path toward feeling at home in your body—even when it’s covered in bug bites and questionable bruises.

Because here’s the truth: I didn’t get confident by doing mirror affirmations and drinking moon water under a witchy moon. I got confident by falling over, getting dirty, farting in front of people I love, and realizing that every single moment of embarrassment was another brick in the foundation of not giving a damn.

You might think this book is about nudity. It kind of is. But mostly, it’s about freedom—freedom from shame, from shoulds, from clothes that itch in weird places. Freedom from the lie that you have to be graceful to be powerful.
I am not graceful. I once tripped over a cordless vacuum while naked and apologized to the vacuum.

But I’m still here. Still naked. Still laughing. Still writing books with titles that make my aunt think I’ve joined a cult. (She’s not entirely wrong.)

So here’s what you can expect:

• Horrifyingly real stories of what happens when you mix nudity with nature.
• Actual helpful life advice buried beneath tales of bush attacks, butterfly trauma, and rogue yoga disasters.
• Zero judgment, unless you’re wearing socks and sandals and trying to tell me how to live.

By the end of this, you may not be ready to strip down and fall into foliage like a brave idiot. But you will have laughed. You’ll feel a little lighter. A little braver. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll feel like your weird, wonderful body deserves to exist exactly as it is—pants or no pants.

Now, let’s begin.

Fair warning: things get pokey.