I ask my husband why those guys are dressed he infers that it’s “clothing optional.” It feels weird and unfair that some people on this part of the beach are dressed. I suddenly not only don't want to undress, but I also want to run and hide.
My daydream comes to a sudden halt when I spot a group of frat boys fully dressed, passing a football nearby. Getting naked at the beach seemed like the perfect thing.until it wasn’t. My time with this reasonably ripe body was running out, and I figured I'd better do something with it. If only there were a way to bottle up that feeling of enjoying what you have while you have it to give to younger women.
And now, one year into my thirties, I’ve been enjoying the graduation-goggled view of my body many other women talk about as their bodies start to change noticing wrinkles and new soft patches makes you realize how good you had it in your twenties. Last year, when I turned 30, I went on a celebratory bikini walk - it was the only time I had ever worn a bikini out, and it ended up being pretty liberating. At 31 years old, I’ve conquered an eating disorder, most of my body dysmorphia, and countless other seemingly unconquerable insecurities. There is a swirl of reasons I was attracted to the idea of a nude beach. My sweet husband wasn't crazy about the idea, but being the supportive guy he is, he got on board. I was headed on vacation with my husband to a town with a nude beach for a week, and I decided we absolutely must visit it (no matter how uncomfortable the idea made me).
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