This website gives you a lot of information on nudism, the why, the benefits and also a lot of where-to-go.
Nude recreation helps your body relax faster. When your clothes come off, so do many of the cues holding you to the work-a-day world. Clothes are restricting, inhibiting. Drop them and you feel free in a way no other way can do for you. It also brings about a sense of equality, because can you tell if this gentleman is a bus driver or a bank manager? Or if the lady next to him is a house-wife or the leader of a big corporation?
Nudism makes labels disappear
DailyMotion features a number of very good videos on US Nudism. Click the picture to see a half-hour informational documentary from the UK:
Yes, that’s one big problem if you want to go outside.
Something like this looks pretty and feels amazing – but not for too long. A wool hat and mittens aren’t the thing to keep you going outside for a while either when there’s a lot of snow around and the temperatures are far below your physical comfort zone for months on end.
Cold rains in autumn can also ruin your nude fun outside.
The solution for nudist in these areas (where I live too) lies in several options.
Home nudism. Stay home, crank up the temperature and drop your clothes. Make the best of it. When you know people who are nudists too, invite them over and hang out nude together for a while. Of course, having the sun and some warm wind on your skin is better, but lacking sun and wind you make do with what’s available.
Sauna. Many saunas are bathing-suit free, they are good places to live the nude life, if only for a while. And they are very relaxing too!
Take a vacation to warmer areas. Of course this is a more expensive option, but it is one and it gets the nudism job done.
Some swimming pools, hotels and recreational parks offer indoor nudism options, it’s always worth to check those out.
As a last option I’d know of you can wait for a nice winter’s day and find a secluded spot outside, in the sun, and get a bit of nude time that way. It’s up to you if you want to take the risk (and the possible chill) though, it’s not legal in most places.
“The Naturist’s Lens” has written about this too, check out his post on it.
As the title says it was not the world – unfortunately I could not make it to the official World Naked Bike Ride event in Amsterdam today. However, with the weather a bit cool, a chance of rain and the urge to really ride a bike naked I went out, loosely dressed, to a spot where I suspected no people. (I don’t need trouble, I don’t want to upset folks.) At the spot I took off my stuff and got on the bike. Well, lucky me met a runner who was coming my way. Before I could decide if I should put my stuff on again he was next to me and past me so that solved itself. After less than a kilometre it started to rain lightly. It felt wonderful. Not cold at all, contrary to how it would feel in textile. I rode along, turned left and right a few times and then retraced my route to where I had started. At that point I had to put my clothes on again, and what horror that was. It felt far too warm, the rain suddenly became annoying (even when it did not rain any harder), and it also felt as if the wind pushed harder against me than when I was naked.
First thing upon coming home was getting rid of the clothes, which made me feel a lot better. However the feeling of them, I’m glad I went out and did these 3km on the bike. It wasn’t far, it wasn’t dashing, but – they’re done.
As a female nudist I wonder why it is in a world where we have fought throughout the years for equality that there are not more female nudists? Some women have fought for our rights to bare our breasts in public just as our male counterparts do and won the fight, however we don’t go out in public bare breasted. WHY?
So after a great deal of communication with women I thought it best to put these issues in writing. Now please do not shoot the messenger. My only objective here is to create a more comfortable and understanding message to let the ladies know that it is ok to be nude.
Many people, in the clamour to be seen to be politically correct, seem to believe in the principle that you should not do something if somebody will be upset by it. Being naked in a public space, for instance. While at first sight, this might sound a most honorable viewpoint, I’m not sure people have thought it through entirely.
For instance, would you be happy to join a WNBR, where nudity IS accepted, and then during the course of the ride if some one person was upset at seeing naked people, you would immediately get dressed?
If so, this seems to me to be the very problem with society today (and maybe forever). If we only ever accept a situation on the basis that nobody (pun intended) will ever be upset, then we should bring back racial segregation because somebody is upset that there are blacks on their side of the street. We should also deny women the vote because someone might be upset, (at least half the population of Appenzell in Switzerland), that women should have any say in the running of the country. We should make gay people illegal (wtf! eh?) because somebody doesn’t like gay people, or is upset by the idea of somebody being gay, or is “offended” by the very thought. Etc. etc. etc.
As Bertrand Russell famously said in a letter to The Times: “In a democracy it is necessary that people should learn to endure having their sentiments outraged …”
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.”