Everything has a price;

life is full of trade offs. Like a street vendor in a central-eastern bazaar,
nature is always offering us incredible bargains. If we do not want his fine,
hand-made pottery today, perhaps some uncommon, imported silks… Because he understands
we are uniquely capable to understand the quality of his wares, he’ll let us have
our pick for an outrageously low price.

What’ll we pick, if
the only cost nature inquires now is to give up our clothing for a few hours or a
day? A taste of liberty? An ample bouquet of fresh sensations? A sense of
connectedness and belongingness to the natural world?
Yes, and what if we could
afford at times to splurge, to be without our garments for entire days all
Jointly, even at the price of occasional suffering? What then?
I remember being at the playground once I was perhaps 5 or 6 years old, early on a
weekend morning, when a little boy arrived in wet diapers and quite sensibly took
them off in order to run around and join the play and sit in the sand. Another
girl took him home pretty soon, comprehending that he was too young to have come to the playground without
his parents’ permission. This was evident to me and to her, but many of the
other children had already been indoctrinated against nudity. They believed he had to
be taken home because he was indecent. A two-year-old? This event was very
Interested to me, since I comprehended the children were copying the actions
and approaches of each other and their parents. Without understanding the word for it,
I still comprehended the conventionality that drove them to imitate others in this
That same summer, or possibly
the next, another little girl implied that she and I and a third little girl
pull down our pants and show our pudenda to each other. It was a matter of play
for them and curious indifference to me. I was more interested in why they cared
than in the real investigation. The third girl, smilingly happily and
playfully, exhibited clearly unusual genitalia, and the first girl responded
by saying something like, “Oh, yuck! I’m going to tell http://nudismpictures.net !” I ‘d no thought
How exactly to manage this, but I knew right then that a great injury had been
perpetrated. That little girl, I discovered afterwards, underwent several operations and
An extremely depressing puberty.
During one of those
Pre pubescent years I skinny-dipped with my mother one time, my father seeing
over us above the river bank. Her squeals were louder than the thrill of the
water could account for, and she never stopped smiling. It’s the only sober
laugh I recall hearing from my mother while I was growing up. I also used to
wash my father’s back when youthful; that was one of our rituals, along with
watching the fights on Friday nights. Both rituals discontinued after my first
brother was born, except that after I began menstruating, my mom
Out of the blue instructed me to go wash my father’s back. He was quite silent
throughout and this is the only memory of his dick I ‘ve, as if I never
Found it during those previous baths. My father died at age 36 of a heart
attack and my mom is a proudly recovering alcoholic today.
Much of my childhood, as I
remember it, was spent observing and listening. I wasn’t as compelled as others
to act out or try, with one exception. Two lads were gleefully pulling
wings and legs off grasshoppers one day, and I noticed their odd
expressions. This was something I could not figure out by observation alone, so
on another day shortly after, I ran an experiment. There was a spider I’d been
watching for a little while, managing to see it once as it got and gorged on raven.
Well, I got it in a jar when other kids were gathered around and got them
Cease and look. Then I let this spider outside, and as it was walking away I slowly
lifted my foot, clad in a white sandal that I could likely comprehend now,
and then brought it down and squished the spider. And I understood the looks on
those boys faces, because I could feel it on my own, even as I retched at the
horror of what beach swingers had done and the sight of that black and yellow smear on the
Why is this even pertinent
to a narrative of how I got into nudism? Well, I’ll have to tell about more of those
Types of lads and how they awakened my sexuality while also awakening shame. Or
rather, I can not distinguish those boys from the others who came later. Or the
Harshness after visited on me reverberated with my previous cruelty to the spider.
I do not know. They may be merely inseparable.
When I was in fifth grade
I had a boyfriend who was shorter than me, and another boy wanted to take his
place. He insulted me and my boyfriend, and since I was larger, I took it upon
myself to protect our honour with a proper fistfight. By this age I was beginning
to participate life, you see, rather than merely observe. After a third lad, after
ominously forewarning me, grabbed me on the way home from school to snitch a
kiss. Indignant and incensed, I told my mother, who called the school. Well, the
school official surmised that I was the one who had been the aggressor,