This isn’t a real post in any form of the word we understand over here in this universe. More a note. A line, if you will.
That beach I went to last week? Was clothing optional. And I thought at the time that y’know, it’d be fun. Maybe I’d take my top off. Any old day at the beach.
I’m here to tell you now, clothing optional beaches are the best beach experience ever. It was so decidedly not weird. Friendliest beach I’ve ever been to. Not bunches of attractive girls laying out in the sun and young guys running about looking like ants dressed in Abercrombie. No feeling awkward or fat.
It appears that clothing optional beaches are self-regulating. The people who go are going to be more open minded, less mainstream. They’ll probably have different bodies, or occasional tattoos, or feel too big or too small. (Maybe someday I’ll write about how people farther outside the mainstream definition of beauty seem more inclined to alternative spaces.) Or maybe they don’t. Get anyone naked and there’s always a little something different. So people who show up hoping to ogle, to be surrounded by beautiful naked bodies, instead show up and get a bunch of normal people, all ages, all body types, all happily naked.
Also, you will never realize what a supremely annoying garment a bathing suit is until you take it off.
Going back tomorrow. This time I will get a tan, damnit. Skin cancer be damned, wrinkles be damned. It’s a chronic condition of the human psyche to worry over things. We don’t sit in the light enough. Every year I have to re-teach myself how to lay outside, how to let the sun work in me.
