Is There a Defined Etiquette in Nudity?

01/28/2015

I’m sure there must be written text on nude etiquette somewhere, defining what is considered proper or improper behavior in a nudist/naturist environment. At this point, I have not truly sought out any other resources for determining if this is the case (though I’m sure I will after this). I had this question first come to mind, as a result of a conversation I had with a family member. Now this discussion was brought about as we were discussing my previous blog (Why Be a Nudist) and this is the same family member who thought I hadn’t defined my stand as a nudist by explaining it with words such as “liberty” and “freedom” in my statements. She mentioned she’d read my blog and identified herself in my comments. As we discussed the matter further, she said she had another thought which arose to mind after having read it (though she wanted to give this advice in deference to my position). I previously wrote “nudists are not looking at others nude bodies” and also stated “many people have scars, rolls of fat, are skinny as a rail, have no breasts, saggy breasts, and are of various complexions; we come in all colors, shapes and sizes”. Her response to my statements was… “How can you say nudists do not notice all the imperfections stated, if you haven’t looked at them in the first place? How do you not notice?” Though I tried to explain that we aren’t blind, and of course we can see, it’s just a matter of not taking into account what happened to come across our field of vision.  Try as I might to impress upon her the fact that people generally don’t go into nudism for the reasons assumed by her comments and that being nude isn’t about the ability to look at other’s naked bodies, instead it’s about how it makes us feel individually, yet still she maintained her position. She responded with stating “she just wanted to prepare me for the person who will one day ask this question”.

Now, my response to her query, has mulled around in my mind for several days. How can one emphasize the basic principles of nudity without bringing it down to sexuality? Finally, I settled upon this as the theory which would clarify our position. Basically, in the simplest of explanations, I believe it falls into the realm of what I would call etiquette… nude etiquette.

I theorize there is an unspoken etiquette to nudism. My belief, the basis of nude etiquette is arrived at via an individual’s reasoning behind nudity. I believe someone who is a nudist at heart, is simply a person who enjoys the freedom of being naked. More than that, it is relishing being unclothed in social situations and delighting in the sensation of it being natural. I have faith that individuals I meet go into nudism not to be voyeurs or predators, but because they have an innate desire to experience the freedom that is achieved through nudity. Call me naïve if you will, but this was our reason for becoming nudists so why should we consider ourselves as unique as to be the only ones to do so?

Most of my life, I have had image problems. I felt insecure about my size, my clothing, my choice of fashion style, color or coordination. I’ve been apprehensive about the outfit I chose to wear to a party or work (and going back even further in time, school). I have experienced the anxiety of walking into a room and feeling eyes upon me, checking out everything about my choice of attire, unsure if the looks were of approval or disapproval. I know I am not alone in the discomfort I am describing. I believe most of us have faced this situation at one time or another (I’m not sure if men participate in this form of self-torture, but most of us women do), and when we discovered social nudism I appreciated the sense of liberation I gained from this sensation of insecurity and vulnerability.

Since becoming a nudist, I have never experienced the situation of entering a room or area where other nudists are gathered, and have all eyes fall upon my body to check it out. Their eyes are always on mine, greeting me with a smile because they are happy to see me, showing appreciation for me, not my apparel. I have found nudists are quite comfortable with eye contact, something you can’t say about people in the textile world. I have only met with approval and respect as a nudist and I have not met one person who has been disrespectful in speech, manner or attitude.

The acceptance I feel when I encounter other nudists is incredible and I assume each individual we’ve met appreciates the same thing. We entered nudity to be free of the conditions which led us into judgment over our attire and appearance and I have confidence in the belief nudists embrace this standard as naturally as they embrace their liberty. I don’t believe any of us entered this lifestyle to present an opportunity for “getting an eyeful”.

Human nature dictates that there is always an exception to every rule however. I suppose there will at times be one who falls through the cracks. These are individuals who may think they’ve found an opportunity to achieve some of their sexual fantasies by taking advantage of the pleasure we innocently pursue. If that is their purpose, they will be found out and they will soon become outcasts. I don’t waste my energy worrying about the character of other people however. If that is their objective, it’s their bad, not mine. People who have ulterior motives will not prevent my husband and I from enjoying the life of a nudist, nor our friends.

Before ending this post, I feel drawn to pose this question… As a decent human individual, do you appreciate having your breasts or genitals ogled when meeting someone, whether clothed or unclothed? Simple social etiquette dictates this as improper behavior. On many occasions while fully dressed I have encountered men looking at my breasts when wearing a blouse with a low neckline. The old adage used by women… “My eyes are up here” has entered my mind more than a few times and if I’d had the courage to state would have been aptly appropriate. Again, as a nudist I have never experienced this at any nude venue. If you have entered nudism to escape the bondage of the textile world, why would you hinder yourself by holding on to the stigmas which are connected with it? I have come to the conclusion that the unwritten or unspoken etiquette of nudity is arrived at by treating others the way you want to be treated. It’s only common sense, treat each person with the respect you hope or expect to receive.

As I mentioned at the beginning of this entry, I said I would probably seek other references. I did so upon reaching the end of this writing, I Googled, “Nudist etiquette” and found many interesting and informative articles. Each contains an array of basic etiquettes which should be observed, with lists of do’s and don’ts toward behavior in nudity. My writings however were achieved simply from my own observance and perspective.

AZNudistCouple

What Type of Person Becomes a Nudist?

1/19/2015

I pose this question because I believe a great percentage of non-nudists ask themselves this very question on the topic of nudity. I think they must query, why? Other ponderings probably center upon their careers, ethnicities, age, religion, and forgive me if I offend anyone with this… their psychological stability. To clarify a little, I’m saying I question if textile individuals not only wonder why, but also, do they judge nudists as a bunch of weirdo’s or deemed poor, illiterate, low class, non-professional losers possibly? Is this the impression they have or do they have any expectations regarding who or what type of individual might be a nudist?

Never once in all my years did I consciously consider these ponderings. My contemplation arose from events I’ve encountered recently as I began sharing our lifestyle in nudity with a few friends and family members. After leaving the conversation I found myself wondering what their true feelings were regarding my confessions. The customary response has usually been, “Wow, that’s really great”, or “You’re so brave, I could never do that”. Though their reactions sounded positive, I’m left feeling a nagging sensation that seems to weigh heavily within my chest, resulting in a sense of imposed judgment or disapproval. It’s truly bothered me because I don’t want to believe those I feel close enough to confide in would be insincere or dishonest with me. It bothered me in a way which made me regret sharing; I had to get to the bottom of what was causing this impression.

I don’t believe my thoughts ever pondered the, who, what or why of nudity for the greatest part of my life (now it’s practically foremost in them), but previously, on the few occasions nudity was mentioned (by friends or relatives) I can tell you the conversation didn’t speak favorably of those who lived the life of a nudist. On the rare opportunity discussions turned toward someone who was a nudist, they were usually spoken of as a depraved individual, or as a strange, twisted type of person, one of bad breeding, or someone who was unstable of mind; either way they were someone you didn’t want to become friendly or very well acquainted with. Of course, the exception to this rule was voiced through my father’s statement which always completed any discussion pertaining to nudists… “There is nothing dirty about the human body; it’s the mind that makes it so.”

I can’t say I ever associated a positive image with anyone who engaged in the nude lifestyle due to the above influences. Yet on the other hand, I don’t think I permanently attached a stigma with them either. I believe I simply tried to keep neutral in my thoughts about nudity since my father’s ending statement always seemed to warn against thinking negatively about them, (as though it made me one who possessed the dirty mind to think the thoughts) or use the damaging declarations others were using to distinguish their character.

Aha! That’s why… My feelings of disapproval with my nude lifestyle from those I love come from impressions I absorbed through my childhood. I had been almost embarrassed to tell them, not for the reason of shame over what I was doing, but because in my mind I cringed with the implications overheard through those whose approval I cared about as a child.

I suppose I found resolution by recalling past remembrances from my youth which carried negative connotations associated with nudists. I must admit, it came as a surprise to me when I realized I’d carried the memories of past conclusions expressed by others forward to the point I felt a haunting sense of disapproval in my revelations due to them. I like to imagine we are living in a more tolerant time than that of my youth, not so closed minded and hurtful. I’d like to help all individuals gain acceptance and understanding for nudists. I hope my words written as my own form of therapy will help others understand as I give explanation with the following.

Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief… doctor, lawyer, indian chief. This was a little chant we used while jumping rope as a child. As an adult, this little childhood rhyme has returned to my memory as I was seeking an appropriate way to describe the walks of life one might find a nudist in. I’ve found no barriers (except close mindedness) which prevent any individuals from enjoying social nudity. You don’t have to be any or all of the above in order to participate in nudity. We come in all forms, all races, religions, sexual orientation and a great variety of professions.

I have met people who could be any of the above but when they’re nude, it’s truly difficult to pin any of these tags to them (literally as well as figuratively). When we are clothed, I feel as though we are in costume, acting out our part in a play. We are playing the character defined by our layers of clothing. The clothes label a person, causing them to hide behind a façade which they think distinguishes their status or who they are. When the clothes are stripped away the veneer is removed as well and we’re able to see others for who they really are. I feel the judgment has been removed, there is no pretense and the beauty from within is what seems to shine through. So why are people so bound to the material that forces them to constantly be on stage, performing endlessly for the textile world?

When a baby is born, it’s born without clothing. Their little bodies are so perfect and precious, and though they cry when they are exposed to the cool air that accosts them once they have been removed from their mother’s womb, they would much prefer to be naked, flesh to flesh with their mother than clothed. I worked in a birthing unit for 10 years and never found one baby who enjoyed being dressed. They get angry and turn red all over, shuddering and quivering, but are comforted once returned to the skin to skin security of their bodies touching their mother’s while held in her arms. There is nothing dirty or perverted about this scenario; it’s beautiful, natural, and spiritual.

When a young child runs around a sprinkler in the summer with nothing on, or plays in the water at a lake or beach as such, it is innocent and inherently beautiful. The phrase “childlike” comes to mind, because when using this expression we think of a natural beauty that is innocent and free of guile.

When does this stop? When do our bodies stop being beautiful, innocent, free of guile? Why, when we become young adolescents and adults are our naked bodies no longer allowed to be free and beautiful?

When I am naked, I feel childlike. It’s the closest thing to being born again, both metaphorically and spiritually. When in a social situation with other nudists I feel as though we all come to life as we engage in stimulating conversation (not stimulating sex as most seem to imagine). I am enthused as I sense the invigoration exuding from those around me. It is an exhilarating experience as the enthusiasm of youth seems to have been set free in each of us.

We are all childlike, for there is nothing nasty or dirty in our nudity. We are beautifully created in God’s image and it is only in the closed minds and perverted thoughts that are carried by others that make it dirty or shameful.

Socially, I feel no different (better or worse) from any other individual I meet in social nudism. We are rich and poor; we’re doctors, lawyers, and indian chiefs. We come from every walk of life and unless someone asks, we rarely know what individuals do for a living. That is not who we are, it’s just what we do to support ourselves. Who we are, are nudists, people who feel exquisite when we are able to free ourselves from the bondage of clothing and share the joy we experience with others who identify with us jubilantly.

 AZNudistCouple

My Own Personal Practicality in Nudity

01/12/2015

When asked by friends why I chose to be a nudist, I usually respond with a statement which includes something about loving the feeling of liberty and freedom. But honestly, I have a couple of personal reasons explaining why I prefer to be naked. To me my motives fall on the very practical side of nudity (which I’ve never really mentioned to others), simply put, its temperature control and my own personal comfort level that moves me toward nudity. This motivation is probably one of the most logical of reasons in my mind (though I’m afraid, after you finish reading this you’ll all determine I’m extremely neurotic in ways I hate to admit).

I guess I’ll start out with addressing the temperature control issue first. Though some might say I should just deal with it and many may not agree, possibly even question my judgment on my choice of location in which I live. You see, I live in Arizona and we have triple digit temperatures a good part of the year, for me to go without clothing appeals to me on a level I view as quite sensible and provides an entirely different variation of comfort for me. But also, there is so much more involved in my reasons than that.

Many days are “hot, hot, hot,” in the southwest. Though we have an air conditioning system in our home and it is extremely efficient, I do try to keep the house at a reasonable temperature level (the electricity bill in summer months can be pretty expensive). It’s a factor I hadn’t brought into the equation previously, but when I must wear my clothing in situations no matter how great or miniscule the activity, I feel as though I’m going to explode. Let me site some examples… If I’m rushing around at work or just sitting at my desk, or I’m at someone else’s home if they don’t keep their air cool enough, whether I’m active in any way, or even if I’m sitting watching the television, it’s whatever ( and I’m getting tense just writing about these things). When I become overheated, it truly sends me over the edge in a way which causes me to have to fight every instinct within me to prevent a meltdown (no pun intended).

Take today for example… I was preparing our Thanksgiving Day dinner and of course our oven was going at 350 degrees or higher for several hours (even though my husband smoked our turkey outside in his smoker… and boy did he look cute doing so completely naked). I am your typical over doer during holidays, trying to insure everyone has their favorite dish and dessert. And then of course there is the cleaning of the house and the washing and wiping while cooking which goes hand in hand with holiday preparations. Needless to say, throughout the day I was rushing about cleaning, stirring, sifting, shaking (and any other descriptive word you can think of to bring the picture to mind of my days activities). Now we didn’t have your normal Thanksgiving Day weather that comes to mind when one thinks of this holiday. Oh no, we had no frost on the ground, or snow in the air, no biting wind blowing about either.

We had temperatures in the 80’s here. It was yet another lovely sunny day here in Arizona (our weather forecasters have it tough… not!) Don’t get me wrong, I love the weather here. I grew up in New England and suffering through the cold weather eventually drove me to this part of the country (and let me repeat, I do love it). I am very thankful to escape the everyday frigid temperatures of New England’s winter months, especially when I get calls from family back home updating me on how many degrees below zero the thermometer has reached, or how many inches of snow are piling up. I’m sorry, I’m drifting onto other subjects, but I write like I talk. Which means, when I talk about a subject, I feel it necessary to give you the background info that goes along with it in order to help you understand? (This may not appeal to everyone, and to those of you who are bothered by this, I apologize).

The true game changer came when I entered menopause. I moved here before entering this condition, and though I love Arizona’s weather, it became much more extreme for me once it began. A woman in menopause is not a pleasant or pretty sight when she is in the throes of a hot flash (or at least this woman isn’t). Hot flashes are non-discriminating, they come whenever they feel like appearing, and it doesn’t matter how inconvenient the timing, (and they are merciless!). So when I am in the middle of performing practically any type of physical activity, and one appears, the first thing I want to do is rip off every article of clothing to release me from the suffocation I am experiencing (picture a blazing inferno boring a burning hole as it makes its way through to my chest while at the same time a gigantic boa constrictor has wrapped itself around my diaphragm and squeezes continuously… am I being too descriptive?). It feels so intense at times I believe I’ll go mad, I have to use every bit of restraint to make it through those moments when I am in situations where I must wear clothing, and as soon as I am able, the clothing comes off.

I don’t want to make this into a topic about menopause however; I just felt I needed to pinpoint some of the triggering elements for my deep desire to be unclothed.

So now you have all the background information, you also have the additional influences with which I hope brings understanding of what a stress factor this creates with my health, both physically and emotionally. It is at this point I want to bring this topic back around to the example I was speaking of regarding temperature control.

While preparing my Thanksgiving dinner (with all the additional elements I described in great detail involved), I had quickly reached my internal boiling point. In previous years I have been irritable, grouchy, snapped and raised my voice at the loved ones around me due to my irritability. The difference was achieved this year by a couple of saving graces… First, was due to the fact no guests were here yet, and since it was only the two of us, I was able to strip down to nothing but an apron (had to protect the tender areas while cooking) once I realized I was feeling hot and uncomfortable. Second, my husband was able to do the same. We performed all of the stress inducing activities without our clothing and thus created a tension free environment for both of us. When our guests arrived, (we were able to dress shortly before the appointed time) they found us in great spirits, relaxed and ready to enjoy the holiday.

The second practical point for me towards nudity is that I have always had issues with the way clothing feels on my body. I have continuously been bothered by textures in clothing. I’ve also been disturbed by the feeling of being bound when donning any type of garb which feels tight or layered. So anything that feels tight or binding, itchy, prickly, rough, or has scratchy things in them, (i.e. tags, seams, hooks, zippers, threads, sequins…) to name a few, makes me more than uncomfortable. When I say more than uncomfortable, I mean overboard, bordering unstable type of concerns with this discomfort. So again, I’ll add to my story by giving examples in my drifty sort of way.

As mentioned previously, I grew up in New England. I hated living in New England because during winter months I had to wear layers of clothing to try to keep warm (I was always cold and suffered intolerably through the 9 months of frigid weather). I didn’t want to go outside because of my aversion to cold but yet fun things were happening out there like sledding, ice skating, building snowmen and snow forts… These activities could not be entertained from indoors so I would bite the bullet and begin the labor some task of pulling on layer after layer of winter apparel in an effort to be weatherproofed. As I approached the point which one would consider sufficiently dressed for the cold, a creeping sense of irritability would begin deep within me and before I knew it I would be overcome by an uncontrollable sensation of suffocation, fury, and panic. Fight or flight mode would kick in and I would pull from one direction, yank at another, scratch, twist and turn to try to avoid this unpleasant feeling that had quickly enveloped me and given me this intense discomfort. 

Sometimes I would successfully make it outdoors to play (my mother would say it took more time for me to get dressed than I would stay outside), but a good deal of the time I ended up pulling the clothing off and throwing it across the room in frustration, angry because I hated how the clothing felt and upset because I inevitably upset my mother (because it disappointed her when I couldn’t “control myself” in this manner).

I think I have loathed clothing since birth; I’ve never have had any memories of comfort while in them for they make me itch a good part of the time. I’m not sure whether my discomfort comes from the seams within the outfit, the thread they use to sew it, or how many times they repeated a stitch to bind the seam. Little things like these would not only irritate me (both in temper and body), but would chaff my skin and give me the equivalent of an Indian rub burn on whatever area of my body it may be brushing against.

I always wanted to like clothing, I wanted to be like my siblings who never seemed bothered by the coarseness of the material or the layering for warmth (I guess that’s how they are able to still live in NE), but I just never could get myself to a point where I felt comfortable. Being without, now that’s comfortable. If I found an outfit I liked it was generally something very soft and loose, one I would describe as “feeling like I have nothing on” (and I can recall saying this from a young age… I think I see a pattern forming).

So possibly, I have issues with confinement, maybe that’s part of why I like being a nudist. With this realization said, I’m taking my stand… Yes, I do have issues with being confined, my answer… Be nude. Yes, my skin is easily irritated from the texture and material, my response… Be naked. Truly I am someone who gets easily overheated, my solution… Take my clothes off.  Having my clothes off brings the greatest comfort to my body, mind and spirit. So there you have it, I have admitted to myself and to all who read this… I am truly neurotic when it comes to wearing clothing and being overly hot. It’s a good thing I found nudity; it helps save those around me from my experiencing my neuroticism.

So I will repeat my admission… I have issues… But here is my final response to all those who want to keep me imprisoned in the horrid torture some devices called clothing. Previously I’ve been taunted and demeaned with the following catch phrases, well not anymore! I’m not going to bite the bullet, nor am I going to build a bridge and get over it, and I’m certainly not going to pull up my big girl panties and move on… In fact I’m going to do just the opposite. They’re coming off and staying off when I choose and for as long as I want… So there!

 AZNudistCouple

Finding My Sexuality in Nudism

01/05/2015

This may not be an appropriate way to begin this entry, but during our journey of discovery into nudism, I found myself doing a lot of self-examination regarding my thoughts on many subjects pertaining to our newfound lifestyle. Through writing our blogs I’ve begun to reflect upon the changes being a nudist has brought to my life.  Pondering and digging deep into my psyche has developed new awareness within me and generated into consciousness many uncovered realizations of myself.

I am almost hesitant to write on this subject matter because so many non-nudists think nudism is all about sex. I don’t want anyone to come to the conclusion that once I became a nudist my morals changed and I suddenly became promiscuous and entertained sexual acts freely with anyone other than my husband. My self-discovery refers not to interactions with any other nudists but it is a revelation about me, how I felt about myself prior to and since becoming a nudist.

There is no exaggeration in the fact that I always felt insecure about my appearance growing up. Most young girls/adolescent women feel insecure, as they change from an undeveloped young girl into a woman with breasts and other body parts which attract members of the opposite sex. As a young female, we are taught to keep those private areas covered and keep ourselves pure and chaste so as not to draw attention to ourselves lest we be thought loose, cheap or easy.

As I matured and became a young woman, I was very uncomfortable with sexual advances from other young (and at times older) men. I felt so ill at ease and awkward and I was always carrying around fears of what might happen to me if I was too “easy” with my appearance. I was of my pre-teen years in the late part of the 1960’s and early 1970’s and if anyone was old enough to remember, it was definitely an important time in the sexual revolution. I heard many stories which were told about hippies and their free sex lifestyle, also tales of the drug scene and how it affected those who were participating in its use.

With those stories, came tales of young women who were being attacked and raped, as well as the treatment those women received after their abuse, and how they were scorned and persecuted while trying to bring their attackers to justice. A woman’s appearance and dress was usually brought into question when it came to defending her moral standing in the courts (not sure if it matters still, but it was surely the case when I was young). Needless to say, I was repressed when it came to attempting freedom from clothing, in great part for fear of being noticed or of standing out from the other girls with my sensuality or sexuality. I won’t go into the stories of the unwanted attention I received as a young girl, but they contributed to shaping my perceptions of myself.

Another factor which further influenced my cognizance was being raised in the church. My parents became deeply involved with religion when I was a young teen and though my parents themselves did not suppress us with conformance in attire, the pastor, deacons and other church members surely let one know if a person’s attire did not fit their picture of Christianity. With that said, I want to make one thing clear on this subject; I am not bashing the church with this statement. I love my faith and my beliefs which were instilled within me as a child. I do however dislike the judgment which seems to follow religion. I won’t say anything more regarding my beliefs lest I turn this into a forum on religion.

Through many confusing influences and chain of events, I grew to be a woman who feared defining and expressing my sexuality. It was almost as though there was a deep sense of it being wrong to be sensual or sexy. As the years went by and with every move I made, I always seemed to associate with the same type of individuals, those who felt the mindset that had been instilled within me from youth was the correct one.

I don’t want to mislead anyone into thinking I wasn’t engaging in sex throughout those years (for I surely was) or that I was a prude (far from it), but I felt like I had to be prim and proper in public but when behind closed doors things were completely different. It was a confusing tightrope I was walking, and I always felt a fear of someday falling, that somehow the truth about my sexuality would someday be discovered and I would be shamed. The implication was, how I dressed was in one way or another attached to my sexual behavior in the eyes of the world (or at least in my little world) and I felt I needed to fit in or else be left out in the cold. It was as though I deemed myself as being deceitful by having two personas… the good prissy wife/mother in public… sexually serving mate behind closed doors and I didn’t like the feeling of insincerity I arrived at with this duality.

After a time I consoled myself by accepting the belief, alas, this was the way of the world, the way a good woman should behave… these were the duties of a virtuous Christian wife and mother. I never felt comfortable talking with other women about my intimate existence for fear they would think me an immoral person or slutty if I told them about my sex life. The whole conflict I dwelled in was simply too embarrassing to disclose to anyone.

Many years went by, and I got divorced.  After I met my wonderful husband Mark, we began testing the waters in nudity, at least behind closed doors (and I’m not talking about in the bedroom). I was still conflicted, for the dilemma hadn’t changed over being the good girl in public, the bad girl at home. But then something miraculous happened, we stumbled upon social nudity as an alternative for expressing our desires for natural freedom and for the first time in my life, I seriously considered nudism as an option. I don’t know how everything in our universe aligned so perfectly to bring such sweet accord within me, but giving it a try suddenly seemed to make sense.

With each resort visited and gathering attended, a great comfort was sensed between my husband and myself as we continued to appear at more functions. Mark repeatedly commented on how beautiful I looked on each occasion and he beamed with the most joyful smile each time he looked at me. He told me over and over again of a change he was noticing in me, one of great confidence within me. At first I attributed his comments to his delight over the freedom we felt in social nudity. But as each instance or opportunity to be socially nude occurred, I began to feel it too. It was a deeply felt confidence that stirred within me, one that made me feel jubilant all the way to my core. Something amazing had been awoken within and it was so much more than being confident. It wasn’t about feeling beautiful (though amazingly, I did feel a sensation of beauty within myself) and I just could not put my finger on what it was exactly.

One evening after we returned from spending the day at Mira Vista and retired for the evening, Mark and I lay in bed talking about the wonderful time we had enjoyed. As we continued talking, I began to describe what I was experiencing within me, and the only description which truly seemed appropriate for what I was feeling was sexy. I almost felt silly admitting such a feeling existed in me, but the more I thought about what I had confessed, the more I found myself relishing the sensation which accompanied my professed declaration… it was at that moment I decided to embrace it, to just go with it, and claim it… yes, I felt sexy and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that!

This statement of feeling sexy does not signify that I feel I’m able to get any man or that I feel alluring to all that set eyes upon me. It doesn’t suggest I am going to peruse every nude get together seeking to “hook up” with someone other than my spouse. Nor does it imply that I am conceited regarding my appearance, believing I am “all that and a bag of chips” (a phrase my children used when they were talking about conceited people). It’s simply a solid feeling of sexual confidence in who I am as a woman. No shame, no insecurities, it’s simply that I feel as beautiful as when God created me in his image and as I believe I appear in his eyes (clothed or unclothed).

I feel I have grown immensely with this realization. I have found my sensuality, I have discovered the confidence to be a woman who is at peace with herself completely nude and amazingly… I do feel sexy!

AZNudistCouple