Today it’s very warm. It’s still warm as I write this, 31c / 88F. This afternoon I took some time to go to our local nude beach to relax, get some sunshine and try to finish the book I am reading, So far I have tried that 6 times, but there are always kind and friendly people at the beach and it’s really pleasant to talk with them.
It’s impressive to find out what people visit our little beach. Last time I met someone who makes his own exclusive wine. This time I talked to a lady who has travelled all over the world and spends the winter in South Africa.
As it was so very warm and muggy, a small group decided to go for a swim. I was with them – for the first time as I’m not much of a swimmer. The water was still quite cold, several people were a bit hesitant to go in, but it was by far not as cold as the sea in which I went skinnydipping for the world record. It was great to swim naked (I know, but it’s a nice surprise every time I do it), and I think we scared a few people who were rowing a boat along when they discovered they had reached the nude beach.
As we were back on the grass to dry up, one of my fellow swimmers looked at me and said he’d seen me on TV, in a short report on the news about the skinnydip attempt. Apparently it was only a fraction of a second but I have a few unique tattoos which was how he recognised me. I should try to locate that footage, would be fun!
Everything’s Better Naked: I’m Thinking Of Becoming A Nudist
Bikini shopping is soul destroying. LET’S ALL BECOME NATURISTS INSTEAD!
Bikinis are shit and they give you tan lines. The end.
This weekend just gone, I found myself in a Topshop changing room, with a handful of bikinis littered around me. The harsh lighting highlighted parts of me I’d really rather forget about, the tiny cubicle serving to make me feel like a bit of a lummox.
The swimsuit I’d opted for was a pineapple print two-piece, with a cupped, balconette style top with a tie-up halter neck. I’d gone for my usual top size, and after pulling it on I was most displeased to see that the cups hung off me, with my boobs collected at the bottom of them like two tiny flesh-colored puddles.
It’s not news to me that I have small boobs. I know that I’ll have a hard time filling anything out these days. But looking at myself, I thought about how it had looked on a model I’d seen, her bounteous mounds spilling over the top. And for just a second, I didn’t like myself much.
JUST FOR A SECOND, THOUGH. Because I then thought, “GET A GRIP. THESE ARE YOUR TITS. DEAL WITH IT.”
Swimsuit angst rolls around every year, and every year I seem to have a new reason to look a bit crap in one. After losing nearly three stone, my bum is smaller but now flappy. I don’t care, I think I look all right — but then the bikini comes on and suddenly I notice that it doesn’t look quite like it did on the mannequin.
The funny thing is, though, that I love my body. My body is my body, and I’ve always got on with it. I may have not liked my arms before, but they were strong arms that could hug people and lift up my cat. I might have not liked my bum for a bit, until my boyfriend loved it enough for both of us and I realized it must actually be quite decent. I thought I had “sausage fingers” once, but those fingers typed and help me communicate with people all over the interwebz.
Even more than I like my body, I like being naked.
Standing there in that changing room, I realized that I’ll never really like myself in a bikini, unless I get one custom made for me. There will probably always be a gap where I can’t quite fill out a top, or the bottoms will ride right up my bumcheeks, meaning I have to fish them out every half hour. They get sand all in them. They’re annoying. Bikinis are a BALL ACHE.
And so, the most sensible option is to of course become a nudist.
There’s no finer feeling in life than running around a beach at midnight with no clothes on. Every holiday we go on, if possible, we always do a sneaky skinny dip. The place we go to in Florida is always really quiet, so we creep out late at night, leg it on to the beach and drop our towels.
Running and running and running with the sand beneath our toes, the sweet breeze kissing our nether regions and laughing laughing laughing and skipping into the sea, giddy like children.
We don’t care if we look good or bad, or too fat or too thin or flat chested or flappy-of-bum. We care about the freedom and the feeling that we are not restricted by anything.
I don’t feel flat chested, because a bikini isn’t telling me that I am. I can’t feel my bottom eating up my bikini, prompting me to wonder whether I should have gone for a different size. No self-conscious fiddling with material and wondering if it’s sitting right. I’m just me, the bare bones of me, and I like it.
This was taken during one of our late niight naked adventures. Yep, totally naked here.
Of course, we only do this at night when we couldn’t possibly offend anyone with our bits out. What if we were to actually find a nudist beach and settle in for the day? Would it feel the same?
According to social networking site truenudists.com, there are tons of nudists near where I live. I am intrigued. NUDEDUDE1000 looks interesting. I wonder what it is about being naked that he likes?
I’ve had a think about what things are more fun to do when you’re naked. These are:
Walking around near your partner
Eating in general
Writing xoJane articles
So everything here is pointing to the inevitable truth that I should in fact just bite the bullet and become a naturist.
Have I missed any off? Are you thinking of becoming a nudist too? Or maybe you really are one and want to share your experiences? Do you hate bikini shopping too? COMMENTS BELOW!
Naked all day, every day on Twitter: @Natalie_KateM.
A few days ago I was confronted by a problem-seeker, a man who lives in same apartment building. (See here for the first post about it in case you missed it.) Today I met him again, as I came home from work. It was in the hall, so on “neutral ground”.
At first he tried to ignore me, but of course I wouldn’t let him do that. He didn’t ignore me nude, now he wasn’t going to ignore me dressed. I asked him if there was something he’d like to say to me, because I had something to tell him. He asked if I was going to take my clothes off again. Yes, absolutely, but not in the hall of course. To that he shared that he still thought it strange and wrong. I replied that I still think that staring into other people’s house the way he did is strange and wrong, and that it was his own fault that he saw someone nude in their own house. His response was that this wasn’t true, if I had not gone around naked he wouldn’t have seen me naked. Then I just asked him how he would like it if I were to appear in front of his window, fully dressed, and stare into his house in the same way that he’d employed.
“You won’t see me naked,” he said to that. Well, that wasn’t exactly the point. I just wanted to know if he’d have a problem with it, when I were to stare at him while he sat watching TV, or reading the paper, or doing something else. “Not at all,” was his first reaction, but when I urged him to really think about that, to envision it, he changed his mind: it wouldn’t be very pleasant.
Then I left him standing there with the words: “I don’t mind. Look into my house all you want. But don’t scream at me when you see something you don’t like. I’m right and you’re wrong, and next time I will call the police for harassment.”
Earlier today I was picking dry clothes from the drying rack, because even nudists wear clothes at times, which requires washing and drying them. As usual I did that in the nude, because the rack is in a room in my own house, there are gauze curtains for the window, I’m fine. Until this morning, sort of.
I noticed someone standing on the gallery outside the window (I live on the 4th floor), doing his best to look inside. I recognised one of my neighbours, face pressed against the glass, hands around his eyes so he could see what was going on. The window is always tilted open, so I clearly heard him call out: “You’re not wearing clothes!” I replied that I knew that. He didn’t leave; instead he called out: “You can’t do that!” Only then he left. I thought.
A moment later, the doorbell rang. I knew it was the neighbour, as the window he had been peeping through is very close to the front door, so I walked to the door and opened it. Yes, naked. That seemed to give him a shock, even though he’d already seen I wore nothing. He stared at me (all over, which made me feel like he was severely invading my privacy) until I asked him what he wanted. (“My face is up here” were my exact words.) He told me that I can’t walk around naked.
Oh, in my house I can. I know this for a fact. As long as no one can immediately see me from the outside, I’m all in the clear.
He: “But I saw you.”
Yes. You were doing your curious utmost to see what was happening, almost pressing your head through the double glazing, so indeed you saw me. This is not accidentally seeing something, this is curiosity and acting like a peeping tom, invading the privacy of my home. (By that time another neighbour passed by. She glanced at me, smiled with a nod and a wink and walked on.)
“Still I think you are not allowed to do that.” His that was accompanied by a finger pointing at my privates.
Well, I’m not sorry but I think you are not allowed to do that unless I give you permission.
The discussion, with me standing naked in the open door, went on for a while until I offered to call the police and ask if they could come and explain things to him. He dared me, and only as I took the phone he walked off.
I am not going to put on clothes when I’m right. Period.
Yesterday I participated in an attempt for a new world record skinny dipping. Unfortunately we had far too few people at the beach: we needed at least 414 and there were only 153 people there. I think it was because a) the attempt was planned on a Friday afternoon (weekend days usually are much better for that), and b) because of the poor weather (water temperature was 10c/50F).
Still, those that had come went into the water (after waiting for a while, hoping for more participants) because that was what we had come for:
Good question, don’t you agree? I mean, look at them:
All tanned, nekkid and not a worry to their mind, it seems. Don’t be fooled. They have many of the same worries as you have; mortgage, bills, all the usual. One thing they don’t have after a day like this is a lot of laundry.
But, perhaps… perhaps these people look so healthy because they are. Far too many people get too little air and light on their skin, which makes for an unhealthy body. Of course, you may argue that the sun is creating a lot of problems with skin cancer and such, but perhaps there’s a subtle difference that nudists may be more aware of than textile-covered people: in general I think nudists know that they have to protect their skin, as more sensitive parts are exposed to the sun as well. But it’s not only the sun that’s good for you. Airing your skin is important. Giving it freedom from the stuff that sticks to you, gets in the way when you want to move. It’s relaxing to wear nothing. It’s also a great way to obtain some vitamin D – it’s sent to us by the sun and taken up by our skin. Clothes are the big enemy of natural vitamin D.
And trust me, it’s not just the people with slim, firm bodies that are nudists, despite what so many pictures try to tell you. Nudists are people with real bodies, with scars, stretch marks, and plenty of parts in a shape that doesn’t live up to the artificially created concept of beauty and health.
And it’s those people, who are comfortable with showing themselves they way they are, who have 100% accepted that not everyone is a supermodel, those are the people who are the most healthy of all. Not just physically, but (and this is my personal opinion as is everything on this blog) also mentally. They have shifted their inner focus from “I’m not perfect in other people’s eyes” to “I am who I am, deal with it“. This is the body type you don’t see on Tumblr and sites like that a lot, but it’s the body type that you encounter everywhere, be it covered up. It may even come close to your body type.
I am convinced that it is this what makes nudists healthy and happy. This acceptance of who they are, how they look and not giving a damn what others think of it. It’s liberating. I can only advise you to try it. Try it at home a few times as you probably need to get used to it, as you learn to shed the idea that clothes are an integral part of life. If they were, we’d be born with them.
Of course there is always a ‘but’. As seen on TheWeek.com there is a catch:
Rouillon cautions that his study is preliminary and that it would be “dangerous” for all women to stop wearing bras. He admits his sample size still isn’t large enough to be conclusive, and since his volunteers were ages 18 to 35, he can’t speak for older women. In fact, in an inadvertently uncouth way, he says, “An overweight, 45-year-old woman with three kids has no business not wearing a bra.” Ouch. So, essentially, as Weaver puts it, Rouillon means “Don’t wear a bra (HOT LADIES ONLY).”
Yet another reason to accept a clothes-free / nudist lifestyle where things like this are not an issue.
At the moment I’m between assignments. As the weather isn’t good enough to head out to the nude beach (the wind is too cold and someone stole our sun), I spend a fair amount of time at home and therefore clothes-free. It’s great. In the past 2.5 days I had to slip into a bathrobe once for a caller at the door, and into shorts and a shirt for someone who delivered a package. Both events took 10 dressed minutes at best, probably closer to 5.
The box that was delivered contained something I had to assemble. If you never did that, assemble something while in the nude. You’ll be amazed how much easier it is to kneel and move around when you’re not restricted by clothes. It’s so much better.