On March 11th, 2020, POTUS 45 declared that we had a national emergency on our hands and that it was time to close the borders and stop the Virus dead in its tracks. My wife was trying desperately to reach me by phone as I was sitting — naked — by the pool at a little naturist resort in Thailand. When I called the help desk at United Airlines, the agent had yet to hear of the presidential decree as the news had just broken on CNN. I could hear her fingers flying over her computer keyboard in an effort…
Bathing suits tend to cut our bodies up into sections that we can look at and judge. As a woman, I can wear a bikini and look at my body and think, “Oh my boobs look ok, but my tummy is flabby, my bum is ok, and there is cellulite on my legs”. But naked, our skin just flows into this beautiful whole being. There are no pieces to criticize — just a single beautiful whole.
And there's the part that people who haven't experienced naturism don't get! Neither my wife nor I have ever felt like swimwear has done us any favors, (and we are reasonably fit and svelt, but with all the typical issue with awkward proportions here, wrinkly skin there). But strangely enough, we feel quite comfortable in the "natural flow of our skin." Between that and the taboos we (as a society) have placed on particular body parts as being dirty or overtly sexual, something simple and natural has turn into a pschological frenzy.
Thanks for providing such an enjoyable redux of our nakation! :)
We rolled up to the guard shack that officially marked the end of the road, just a few miles up a one-lane track behind the middle-of-no-place municipality of Middletown, California. Just as we were advised on the phone, an attendant was there to ask us a few questions while we filled out an application for the Heart Consciousness Church, the parent organization of Harbin Hot Springs. …
My father sat at the kitchen table, shaking the crease out of his newspaper while nursing his post-dinner coffee.
“Looks like they’ve finally chased off those nekkid hippies out by the bridge — once and for all! They should all put their clothes on and go get a job!”
I sat quietly, picking at my Hamburger Helper. It was 1978. I was fifteen years old. I finally summoned up the courage to sheepishly utter a question, “So, what’s the big deal? Where are the naked people? And why is everyone so angry?”
I knew damn well what the deal was…