Most of what I’ve already written happened between the years 2012 and 2013, but at Sunny’s request I’ll include something important that happened in March 2017. I visited a clothing-optional park for the first time. 

Personally, I would rather have visited an actual “naturist resort,” someplace that isn’t just clothing-optional, but actually more like “nude is basically required” (and it is still on my bucket list). I’ll explain why in a minute. But my options close by, as far as I knew at the time, were a naturist resort that was tiny and five hours away, or a clothing-optional park about an hour from where I live. Since I already had a little experience, I decided to jump on the nearer option. 

My wife isn’t a naturist. While it’s a little less strange to her every day, it still isn’t quite normal or something she sees herself doing anytime soon. We got married knowing that I was a naturist and she wasn’t, and we agreed on this knowledge that she wouldn’t pester me about being nude and I wouldn’t pester her about wearing clothes. Her discomfort wasn’t just for her own nudity, though. She didn’t mind me seeing other women – but she didn’t want other women seeing me. I guess you could say she felt as if the sight of my body was something almost sacred, something she liked knowing that only her eyes saw. While I still don’t quite relate to her line of thinking on this, we agreed that I wouldn’t go to a resort until she felt ready to come with me. As the months continued to spin by (two years’ worth), however, my hope began to dwindle. She noticed this, and after some deliberation, offered to let me go by myself and “test the waters.” As you can imagine, this was a big step for her, and a sheer delight for me. It was one of the best days of our marriage to date – not because it was about nudism, but because of the step we made in our relationship that day. There was something… special about the transition, whatever the topic. She still isn’t comfortable with the idea of coming with me, but I think she’s closer than she knows. 

Long story short, on a sunny Saturday morning that February, I hopped in our car and drove down the interstate toward a specific exit I had memorized years before in my teenage aspirations of visiting the place in 2013. I listened to a seminary lecture while I drove, partly because the lecture was on a test that I needed to send in (I was taking correspondence courses), and partly because I wanted a distraction. Was I really doing this? Was I really about to show up completely nude in front of dozens of strangers? Wasn’t that weird? Wouldn’t I be really uncomfortable? Wouldn’t it be awkward? 

Needless to say, I didn’t want to let myself think about it too hard. I had been dreaming of this day for five years, and I wasn’t about to let cold feet get in my way! No, sir! 

Truth be told, I could hardly have cared less if anyone else had shown up at all. In fact, I found later that day that the pool was much more fun in solitude than with company anyway. And I had hoped to play volleyball, or at least try to put a game together – but the park didn’t have a court. All they had was a removable net that they put on the pool sometimes, but I prefer regular volleyball. I want to move, run, jump! Be active! And the water just doesn’t allow for much of that… 

I arrived at the camp, and pulled down the long, shaded drive and stopped at the gate. Just outside my window was a little intercom box that said something like “push button to speak to office,” and a security camera pointed directly at my face. So, I pushed the button. 

The woman in the office responded, welcoming me to the park, and I basically told her that I wanted to come inside. She told me to wait for the gate to open, and then to pull straight to the office. She hung up, and I put the car back in drive and waited. And waited. 

And waited. 

I sat there for somewhere between five and ten minutes, wondering what might be wrong. Had I violated some kind of spoken gate protocol? Had they simply forgotten to push the magic gate button? Was I supposed to give more information before going inside? Why wasn’t the gate opening? 

Feeling a little self-conscious because I was wondering if it was my own fault the gate hadn’t opened, I pushed the button again and asked if they needed anything more from me before they opened the gate. I never got a response, but the gate opened practically the moment the last word passed my lips. 

I drove up to the office, which was a quaint little trailer home directly in front of the gate, and walked up the steps to the door, feeling a little out of place. I couldn’t see any people around at all, either dressed or nude, so I had this irrational feeling in that moment of wondering whether I’d come to the right park. What if I undressed and it turned out to be the wrong camp after all? The most embarrassing “sir, we’re going to have to ask you to leave” talk ever… 

But at the top of the steps was a porch and a storm door – and on the storm door was a 1/3 scale line drawing of a nude woman, with all the fixings. It was in that moment that I decided I was probably in the right place. 

I stepped inside and, both to my expectation and disappointment, the woman behind the desk was clothed. Let me explain. 

For years, I’ve been listening to the Naturist Living Show, which is a fantastic podcast done by the owner of Bare Oaks Family Naturist Park. Phenomenal show! If you haven’t already, give it a listen. I highly recommend it. Anyways, one of his episodes that had particular influence on me was his show entitled “Why Clothing-Optional Does Not Work.” In that episode (#08), he explains why clothing-optional isn’t a very good way of running a nudist venue, versus true nude policies, where the staff stay nude while they work (except for things like weedeating, obviously), and the members and visitors are required to be nude throughout the park (except for an adjustment period for first-timers). This nude environment presents a better scenario for first-timers to feel comfortable being nude, because 1) the staff present that standard to the visitors, just like hosts and guests in a home, and 2) if everyone is nude, then a first-timer’s thought isn’t going to be “why aren’t they dressed?” it’s going to be “why am I not nude yet?” But back to the story. 

That was why I was a little disappointed that the woman was dressed – not for my sake, but for others who might have a more difficult time adjusting than I did. Even I, already a naturist, found myself wondering about whether or not I should really be nude in this place, if the only other person I see at first is in fact dressed. The nude policies have a long history and track record of success, so I hope that in coming years I might be able to influence this park to consider adapting such policies. 

She welcomed me to the park, and I signed some paperwork and gave her my money and I was in! 

We went on a basic tour of the main part of the park, which basically consisted of the Clubhouse, the Hot Tub and the Pool. There were several restrooms and showers located in different places around this area, which is something I hadn’t really given much thought to, but I was immediately glad she had pointed them out. 

The tour led us first to the Hot Tub, where I had my first nude encounter. A man of about forty was sitting in the water, and because of the clarity of chlorine water there wasn’t much left to the imagination. I mostly just saw a blob of tan color, completely monotone, which told me he was a regular. He and the office woman exchanged some pleasantries and then actually started up a conversation for a few minutes, which was really awkward for me. Not because he was nude, but more because I didn’t know either of them and yet felt obligated to stick around for their conversation, and also because even though I wanted to be nude, I wasn’t sure how the office woman would take it since the tour wasn’t really over and she herself wasn’t nude at the time… 

The man welcomed me as well, and the tour went on. She showed me the pool and the clubhouse, including the kitchen (which I think I will be using in the future), and the tour concluded with our return to the office. I made sure she didn’t need anything else from me before I left, and when she said I was free and clear, I went back to my car. 

I knew already that I wanted to park directly next to the pool because that was where I was going to spend the majority of my time that day, in addition to that being where the biggest stretch of parking space seemed to be – but what I wasn’t sure about was where or when I wanted to undress. But the more I thought about it (a span of about four seconds), the more I realized how ridiculous a question that was. The only person who would mind if I undressed immediately was me! So, out loud, I said “aw, to heck with it,” and off they came. 

I pulled my clothes off and tossed them into the backseat. I remember being surprised at how easy and freeing it was to do that, especially so quickly. It was a non-event, in terms of awkwardness – but in personal achievement and liberation level, it was pretty awesome! I laid down my towel on the driver’s seat, and while this wasn’t my first drive nude (I know, right?), it was certainly the least stressful. 

I arrived at the pool and started arranging my things. The first thing I wanted to do, of course, was take a swim. I’ve loved swimming as long as I can remember, even with a swimsuit, but skinny dipping is over and above the experience of “normal” swimming for me, so that was at the top of my “what to do at the nude park” list. 

The first thing I would need to do is take a shower – but in my excitement, I’d already forgotten where they were. So, with nothing but me and a towel, I went looking for help. The man at the hot tub had some company now, in the form of a newly-arrived man and woman, both nude and not yet in the water. This was my first experience being around a nude woman to whom I was not married. As far as mental notes go, this was a big deal. But socially, it kind of just… happened, and that was it. I asked them where the showers were, and they promptly pointed to an enclosure about ten feet from where I was standing, constructed of transparent plastic, inside of which one could clearly and obviously discern a shower head (if I had only looked). They may have noted my first-timer-ness because of my lack of a tan in my swimsuit area, because they also told me there was a more private shower around the corner. Very friendly, very welcoming – it was a nice exchange, in spite of its brevity, because of just how welcome they made me feel in their demeanor in dealing with me. I thanked them and took the more private option. 

The walk to the shower was surreal. I’m kind of a skinny guy, so the only thing that really jiggles is the stuff that’s usually “tied down.” I could feel the air all over, which was nice to have for a change, but there was still this sneaking nervousness that someone, somewhere was going to pop out, fully clothed with eyes wide and fingers pointing, demanding I get dressed. Yes, it was completely irrational – it was already clear that this wouldn’t happen, but given my upbringing, it just seemed too good to really be possible at first. 

I showered, and I dropped straight into the pool, which unfortunately was only about four feet deep… Not really great for swimming, especially if you’re the scratch-your-chin-on-the-bottom-of-the-deep-end, sperm whale type like me. I’ve always liked spending as much time as deep as I can in pools – I don’t know why. By golly, I swam anyway. I don’t get much opportunity for “real swimming,” as I like to put it, so I was going to capitalize on this while I could. I swam about two laps and got out. I think getting out was the best part – not because the pool was shallow, but because it was the first time I had ever actually emerged from the water still nude. The only other time I’d skinny dipped in a pool, I had had to put my suit back on before getting out, so this was the first time I really felt the water drop off of me like that. Anyone who swims nude knows what I mean: that feeling of about 99% of the water just falling off the second you step out of the water. That was so cool! I loved not having to lug around a sticky, dripping suit like “normal” people do. Who would ever choose that over real swimming? 

I sat down on a chaise lounge (I think that’s what they’re called…) and immediately set about chronicling my experience in my journal. I wanted to make sure I remembered this. And, since I’m writing this later on, I guess I do remember it. 

I got to the pool around 10:00, and between then and 11:30, the member presence at the pool skyrocketed. It went from being just me to being about six people fairly quickly, and then somewhere in there, it seemed like there were at least thirty people! That was a lot of nudity for me – not too much, just a lot: I had a blast finally feeling like I was safe and normal being nude around others. But still a little bit of culture shock. 

I alternated sitting/lying/tanning in the sun and in the shade, getting out of the sun whenever I felt like it was getting close to my skin’s limit. Since I was there by myself, I brought several books along to entertain myself (those don’t need batteries, and they’re also much more polite and constructive, generally speaking). I started with the one I was already in the middle of: C.S. Lewis’ Mere Christianity. As an explanation for the basis for the Christian faith, I felt like it was a little too vague, but I liked a lot of what I read in it. C.S. Lewis is fun and thought-provoking. At one point, I came across one of my favorite quotes of his, which came out of this very book of his, and which seemed immensely fitting, given my current location: 

“A girl in the Pacific islands wearing hardly any clothes and a Victorian lady completely covered in clothes might both be equally ‘modest,’ proper, or decent, according to the standards of their own societies: and both, for all we could tell by their dress, might be equally chaste (or equally unchaste).” 

Incidentally, right around the time that I was reading this quote, a woman happened upon me who indeed was wearing “hardly any clothes.” She was wearing a dress (of sorts…) that went from her shoulders to about halfway down her legs, but it wasn’t covering anything, per se, because the best description I can think of for the dress’s material is a fish net. This surprised me on two levels. 1) I hadn’t fully expected to have this “close an encounter” with anyone that day, particularly because I hadn’t really come to mingle so much as get a feel for the place. 2) I couldn’t stop wondering why she was wearing something that didn’t keep anything dry, warm or out of sight… It seemed oddly out of place for some reason. 

She and her husband were setting out some folding tables under the pavilion that stood right next to the pool, not ten feet from where I was sitting in my chair, reading. Each table they put up was closer to me than the last, and they just seemed to keep putting more out – so I asked them as politely as I could if I was going to be in their way. They assured me that my location was not going to be in the least inconvenient, and then a pleasant conversation got started. 

They noted that I seemed new to the park (which again is probably due to the fact that I’m a cottontail – I don’t see the sun nearly as much as I would like), and I gave my first explanation of my own nudism that I would that day. What struck me right between the eyes about this conversation with this couple was how mind-blowingly normal it all was. They were nude. I was nude. We were having a normal conversation, and everything was just fine. No big deal. My whole life (or more specifically, my Baptist upbringing) had told me that such a conversation was impossible – and yet here I was, doing it with ease. 

There’s an old Chinese proverb that I love to paraphrase (very closely, mind you) for people who think non-sexual social nudity is impossible: “Let not the man who thinks a thing impossible impede the man who is doing it.” Not ‘trying’ to do it – actually doing it. And now not only can I say “people” are doing it, but that I myself have done it, and that’s quite an important (not to mention satisfying) distinction. 

During our conversation, I asked the couple about the “nature trails” I had seen mentioned on the website, and they told me where the trailheads were and where they lead. I made a mental note to check the trails out at some point in the day. 

Well, eventually these people (who seem to be staffers) had other things to attend to, so they went about their business. When they did, I perused the tables they had set out, because they had told me that the things they were setting out were being set out in order to sell as a promotion/fundraiser for the park. Next to the tables stood a rolling clothes rack with T-shirts hanging on it. An older woman only wearing shorts was standing next to me when I saw the shirts, and we agreed that promotional T-shirts seemed ironic for a nudist park to be selling. Not irrational or unproductive, but still funny and counterintuitive. 

I went back to reading, and soon enough I was back in the sun. By now, of course, the pool crowd was living up to its name, and a large number of people (20-25, which is a lot for that tiny pool’s enclosure) were now mingling in the space. I laid my towel down on a new chair in direct sunlight and proceeded to keep reading my book. It was a pretty great feeling to be normal for being nude, for a change, instead of weird! 

I don’t remember the order of some of these things, but I remember they all happened… So forgive my semi-forgetfulness. My whole experience, or as much of it as I recall in detail, is here – it just may or may not be in exact chronological order. So if you see “at some point,” know that it did happen, but I don’t know exactly when. 

At some point, I indeed went and checked out the trails. There wasn’t much to speak of – just a bush-hogged swath of grass that zig-zagged its way through the Louisiana woods near the property line of the camp. I went back there to check things out because I like to explore trails and I’ve always wanted to be able to do that nude, but also because I like to run and I’ve always wanted to be able to do that nude as well. Well, long story short, I did both. I even climbed a tree back there! 

When it got to be around the middle of the day, I called my wife to let her know how things were going. In hindsight, I think it kind of made her feel like she was taking part in the experience, in a way – which is a nice thought. We had a good little chat about what had happened so far, and then I went back to basking in the sun (literally). 

The whole morning, I was dealing with a number of text message conversations, one of which was with my dad, who had had a hard enough time wrapping his head around me going without clothes at home, so when he asked me to go by the house and check on something and I had to tell him I was out of town, I was very thankful that he didn’t ask anything more specific about where I was or why – because as much as I want to wait for the right time, I don’t lie to people. My thought is that if they’re asking, then they deserve the truth, for the most part. If they don’t like the answer, then maybe they shouldn’t have asked. 

Lunchtime came around, and I was starting to look forward to my Vienna sausages, when the camp announced its barbeque lunches going for $5/plate. I love meat. Those three words are very profound in my case. If I could pick one thing to sustain me for life, meat would be it. So I ordered a plate and waited for the food – which I could both see and smell being grilled right outside the pool’s fenced-in area – to be finished. 

While I waited, I had my first real conversation with someone closer to my own age (I’m 22, as of late 2016) – or at least, I think he was closer to my age. The amount of gray hairs on his head caused me to doubt which physical aging sign I ought to trust – his skin quality (which was incredible – tight, well-colored and healthy), or his greying hair. 

Anyway, we had a nice chat, and obviously, it came up that this was my first time out at the park. He was very friendly and polite, if a little odd for my taste. I couldn’t put my finger on why he seemed strange, and to this day I largely chock it up to me not being used to having nude conversations. 

As odd as it sounds, I was much more anxious talking to other men than other women. With women, their breasts are up there fairly close to their faces, so you pretty much take the whole upper body image in as you talk to them and then pretty quickly the breasts fade out of your conscious observation and you’re just paying attention to their face. Somehow, though, I had a difficult time with penises – I still don’t know why. They were just tougher to keep myself from looking at than breasts or vaginas… My guess is the amount of movement. Breasts bounce a little, but women’s genitals don’t really budge from where they are. Penises, on the other hand, seem to be a never-ending stream of bobbing, wiggling and every other kind of movement, and movement tends to draw the eye, and... 

He asked me what I was reading, and I told him a little about Mere Christianity and C.S. Lewis. I was very excited that someone had finally asked me about it, since I had hoped that reading something so very, very Christian might yield an opportunity to touch on that topic. I like talking about Jesus. I guess since that’s part of a Christian’s Biblical duty, that’s a good thing. Unfortunately, the conversation pretty much withered away once the book came up, and he left. I hope it was just the book and not me, but I’ll admit to having talked people out of wanting to converse with me before… 

Lunchtime! They announced that the lunches were ready, and so everyone who wanted one got in line. As you can imagine, trying to line up for food when everybody’s nude has a considerable potential for awkwardness. Because you don’t want to stand so far away that people think you’re not actually in line, but you also don’t want people to think you’re a creep, so there’s a fine line between getting in close enough to establish yourself as part of the line, and making someone uncomfortable. This was particularly potent in my case, since I’m a young unaccompanied male. I was on both the giving and receiving end of this awkwardness, by the time I got my food. 

I walked into the clubhouse, where there are signs that say something like: “Nudity is required at all times in the clubhouse.” In spite of this, many who were waiting for food were not just wearing clothes, but in the full shirt-shorts-shoes getup. That struck me as unfair, and even downright rude. Come on people, follow the darn rules! But I didn’t let it spoil my day. I stepped into line behind a couple in their fifties (that’s a guess based on their faces and hairstyles, but they look great for their age! I chock it up to spending so much time nude in nature – it does wonders for your body. It’s like we were designed for it or something…), and was instantly on the giving end. I felt very sheepish and apologetic when the woman (who was one of the faithful nude members of the line) looked over her shoulder at me and proceeded to urge her husband to move eight feet away, shifting the whole trail of the line. Now I had a dilemma. In order to keep my place in line, I was going to have to follow that couple at least a couple of feet in that direction – but now the margin of error seemed to have shrunk exponentially. Feeling for social cues with every fiber of my being, I took a few steps to my right, lining myself up behind them, but still about 2/3 of the distance (the distance defined by how far the woman had removed herself from arms’ reach) away from them as before. 

The food was being served across the kitchen from where I was, standing by the stove and refrigerator, and the ladies serving the food announced that they had forgotten the dessert in the fridge. Here was my chance to get involved, to interact like a normal person! I immediately turned to open the fridge, but the very woman who had tried to avoid me stepped in front of me and opened it herself. She didn’t seem stuck-up about it – I think her reasoning was that since she was more familiar with the park’s fridge, she would be able to get it more quickly and conveniently, and that was fine with me. So I just held the door open for her while she found it. Not because she was a woman, but just that she was nude, I noted mentally just how at ease someone’s body is when they’re nude. She squatted down at one point to reach into the back of the lower shelf of the fridge, and there was absolutely nothing in her way, nothing holding her body back from being able to comfortably achieve that position. How often are we naturists reminded in the everyday just how awkward jeans can be to crouch in? 

Well, they got their banana pudding and we got back into line. Shortly, I was joined by the young-ish man I had been talking with earlier, and I got my fair share of awkwardness. He stood less than an elbow’s reach from me, facing mostly toward me, at my ten o’clock. I don’t mean to be crude, but that was just a little too close for my first time. Two men’s penises are not always comfortable with one another at such close range, and this case was no exception for me. I got my food and promptly left the kitchen with as much swiftness as I thought would preserve good manners. 

The lunch was fairly small – which was perfectly reasonable for $5. A tiny leg quarter and some beans. They gave me a yummy little yeast roll from a brand that I’m fond of, but I threw it away – yes, I threw it away – because I was trying to watch my wheat intake (read Wheat Belly sometime – scary stuff). 

The conversations going on around me were very fun and lively, and people were poking good-hearted jokes at one another from across the pool, and lots of it happened right in front of me, around those promotion tables. It was an incredibly beautiful time, being around such good-humored nudism. These people were friends, and they were having a blast that day! I found myself aching to join in on the fun, but also too afraid of being seen as the young male who was trying to get “a little closer look” to really go for it. Maybe next time. 

Sometime after lunch, I found myself striking up a conversation with a man who seemed to be in his sixties, or maybe early seventies – but again, he seemed really trim and healthy for his age. We had a nice, long conversation and got to know one another well enough that I think he may recognize me if/when I go back, even if it’s months from now. His story was an interesting one, and a particularly nice one for me to hear, because of my situation with my own wife. 

Years ago, he said, when his kids had grown up and moved out, he had wanted to come and visit the park, but his wife wasn’t so sure. Anyway, after some convincing, she agreed to go for three days (the lucky dog). By the time the three days were up, though, his wife wouldn’t let him leave! They stayed about a week, enjoying the freedom of naturism for as long as they could. Now, they’re residents at the park and they love it. I remember thinking that it’d be nice if that happened in my case as well! 

The day as a whole convinced me that more people would enjoy nudism than they think they would. If people could just get past their emotional blocks surrounding nudity (because most people will admit after just a few minutes’ conversation that there isn’t really anything wrong with it, per se), I think many, or maybe even most people would like it once they tried it. 

I remember at some point during the day seeing for the first time a drop-dead gorgeous young nude woman. She couldn’t have been much older than I am, and I caught sight of her moving from the hot tub to the pool, so she was walking directly towards me. For just a couple of seconds, there she was, the very picture of everything I had been taught to fear, and yet – nothing. She was beautiful, and seeing her was one of the highlights of my day, but for different reasons than my textile peers may suspect. I didn’t enjoy it because of any sexual motivation. It was a good experience for me because 1) I’m a fan of beauty of many kinds, and 2) this experience taught me like no other that day that for me, nudism truly is not about sex. I like to put my feelings on this subject into this analogy: 

Two men were hiking in the Rockies. They both reached the top of one mountain, overlooking a valley where they could see another magnificent mountain across the way. The first man looked at the opposite mountain and sat down under a tree, taking in its beauty. After a few minutes, he put his backpack back on and went down the mountain, grateful for the experience. The other man couldn’t stop talking about how much money he could make quarrying such a pristine rock face. He wouldn’t leave, he wouldn’t stop – he was overtaken by a desire to consume what was in front of him, and if the opportunity presented itself, he would certainly rip that mountain apart for a profit. 

That’s the difference, I think. Naturists see beautiful people and think “Wow, that’s a good-looking person,” and then finish their sandwich and get on with life. It’s really when someone mangles admiration to the point of transforming it into illicitness that looking becomes a problem – when you’re not feeling grateful for experiencing beauty and then moving on, but feeling dissatisfied with “just looking,” and searching for an opportunity to fulfil your own selfish desires. And that’s not how it is for me, and it doesn’t seem to be how naturists in general see it either. As it was, she was there one minute and gone the next, and I was fine with that. 

(Whether dressed or nude, I do like to have conversations with good-looking people when I can, and I wouldn’t have turned away an opportunity to talk to the woman and her boyfriend [fiancé… husband… guy…? her significant male other]. Not just because it affords a longer stretch to enjoy the way these men and women look, but also because I haven’t met any boring lookers yet, of either gender. They seem to be great fun, and so it’s easy for me to believe that these people tend to be popular in high school and college, because they’re very interesting and fun, inside and out – or at least, that’s been my experience.) 

And now we get into the negatives. Yes, the day was awesome, and yes and can’t wait to go back – but there were also some things I didn’t like about that day. 

The thing that bothered me above everything else is how much I felt like an outsider. I don’t think it was anyone’s fault that I didn’t have the guts to charge in and make conversation, but it’s still a semi-bitter memory from the experience. My hope is that I’ll do better reaching out in the future. 

The second thing was all the smokers! I recall feeling like it was really ironic that nudists, the people who are all about the sun and air being so healthy, spent so much time polluting their bodies (and mine – secondhand smoke) that day. At the end of the day, if you want to smoke, go right ahead and kill yourself slowly by shutting down your lungs and getting cancer or something. It’s your life, it’s your death. But smoking around me – that’s my life we’re talking about. It’s my health. Smokers are fine by me, as long as they’re not in crowded areas. That was way more cigarette smoke than I ever want to breathe again. 

The third thing did actually hurt my feelings a little bit, and that was that the staff never addressed the number of people who were breaking the “nudity required” rules of the clubhouse and the pool. Like I said, this struck me as inconsiderate and fairly rude of people, to ignore those rules. Because 1) I’m a guy, and 2) I’m experienced to a degree, I was able to shrug this off, but 1) not even all guys can just shrug that kind of discomfort off, especially if they’re inexperienced with nudism, and 2) what about girls? A bunch of sixty-something men standing around in T-shirts and shorts, watching all the nudies go by? No, thank you! It’s not difficult to imagine that being a reason some women don’t go back to places like this. 

Does that mean I’m never going back? Not by a long shot! The experience of finally getting out and being nude with other people far outweighs the negatives that I experienced that day. I’m planning to go back as soon as work, wife and weather permit. 

So I’d sum up my experience by saying that while it wasn’t perfect, it definitely made me want to keep practicing nudism/naturism, and I can’t wait to get back into the sun! 

END - Part 2

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