Hi, I’m Kristin, and I’d like to personally welcome you to my life, which is about 72 percent nudity, 18 percent chaos, and the rest is mosquito bites in places I don’t want to talk about just yet. But don’t worry, we’ll get there. I always get there. Usually too fast and without pants.

Now, before you start imagining me as some kind of oiled-up nudist goddess sashaying around like a sun-kissed Venus of the Suburbs, let me just say this: I once knocked over a bird feeder with my boob. On accident. During a windstorm. That I caused by tripping over a rake. Nude.

So yeah, I’m just a regular gal, mid-to-late-thirties, soft in some places, loud in others, with a sincere love for fresh air on my butt cheeks and cold beer in my hand. I didn’t grow up thinking I’d be living the naked life. I thought I’d be a dolphin trainer or a backup dancer for Paula Abdul. But here we are. Boobs out, bugs in, and a permanent “what the hell just happened” expression on my face.

If you’re new to nudism, first of all, bless your heart. And second, I promise it’s not all sunbathing and sensual coconut oil massages. Sometimes it’s raccoons trying to steal your underwear off the clothesline, even though you're not even wearing underwear anymore. Sometimes it's your best friend Tanya standing in your driveway completely nude and yelling “THESE CHEEKS ARE WINNING” because she thinks her butt has better SPF retention than yours. (It doesn't, but we let her have her moment.)

Living the naked life is freeing, sure. But it's also full of very real, very human moments—like forgetting that bees are attracted to sugar and trying to eat a popsicle topless. Or realizing your neighbor’s 7-year-old just learned the word “nipple” because you dropped a casserole while reaching for a bottle of Pinot.

This book is for the curious. The brave. The people who’ve ever asked themselves, “Can I grill ribs in the nude without lighting anything important on fire?” Spoiler: you can, but it requires strategy, a long pair of tongs, and a deep respect for grease splatter.

Over the next several chapters, I’m going to take you deep into the wild, weird, and wonderful world of nude living. There will be stories. There will be tips. There will be things you’ll never be able to unsee. And yes, there will be BBQs.

So kick off your shoes, your pants, your bra, your whatever, and come on in. Just don’t sit on my wicker chair unless you brought a towel. House rules.