Become a Naturist - Anyone who knew me as a kid would not envision my writing this memoir. Without a doubt, I might have been voted "least likely to become a naturist" if this type of class existed in my third grade yearbook.
You will need to start with my mom, who was the polar opposite of hippie on the human spectrum of personalities. She suffered from a very real case of OCD, and among her many fixations was suitable look, and with how her family should dress. I occasionally felt like a doll. Short Pants were a rarity in our household, except for use at the beach, and sandals made you appear "low class." Going barefoot on anything but carpet caused arthritis pain later in life. My cabinet was stuffed with button-down Polos, and also during sex, I 'd to look like I was off to the queen's ball. Actually, if I ever meet the man who invented long sleeve, button pajamas, I'll smack him. And for some reason my mother preferred two sizes bigger than was needed, so I seemed to be floating in a bag of clothes, like I was preparing for a wing suit dive. If the temperature hovered anywhere below 75 degrees, my outfit included coat and sweater.
view of this helped my too skinny to be 3-dimensional look, but my ego didn't matter. Worst of all, for the longest time, I was under the impression that shoes were designed to cause the maximum number of pain. Being of Greek ancestry, my parents were dedicated to visiting the motherland in the summer, not to mention, new shoes were needed for every damn excursion, so my mom could show to my aunts and uncles how upper class we were. Walking through JFK airport was complete torture.
But from kindergarten to eighth grade, my Baptist Christian school was far stricter. At all times we were required to wear light blue button shirts, navy blue slacks and, wait because of it . . . TIES! Is there any piece of clothing more heinous than the usual tie? It is basically a choking danger and it cuts off circulation to the mind. I cannot picture showing up at the Pearly Gates and Saint Peter reprimanding me for my lack of neckwear. No Bible verse I Have found states, "Thou shalt wear ties on Wednesdays or when attending church." Our teachers conformed to the dress code with a Nazi-like passion. Once, when http://sodexofacilities.org/__media__/js/netsoltrademark.php?d=noefa.com/contents/18582291/1.html find my tie, I sat for hours in the principal's office, simply staring at walls, as my classmates learned division and when to use adverbs. God forbid I be permitted to learn anything that day sans my oxygen-depriving tie!
A Youthful Nick Alimonos: Become a Naturist
Right now you might believe I might have discovered to hate clothing, that I rebelled and became a nudist, right? No way! Despite my loose Polos and shoes made for Geishas and ties appropriate for auto-asphyxiation, I loathed attention much more. Clothed or otherwise, I was extremely shy, and introverted to the point that people in high school simply presumed I was using drugs (never did), which is why I feared "physical education." The year was 1983 and this was private school, and it was still O.K. to hit children' with wooden paddles and embarrass them through forced nudity. Our locker room didn't have curtains or private little stalls like you find at a water park. No, http://sawmilltrust.net/__media__/js/netsoltrademark.php?d=nudebeach.buzz/contents/79640708/1.html was one big square, with lockers on one side and nozzles on the other. Nowhere to be unobtrusive!
http://whitneycrane.com/__media__/js/netsoltrademark.php?d=nudebeach.buzz/albums/hi-dear-here-u-2979.html became this kind of difficulty for me that I hollered to my mother, until Coach SoandSo announced to every third grade boy, "O.K. now, nobody make fun of Nick when he takes a shower." This, as anyone who went to elementary school can tell you, had the precise opposite effect. In short, there was no escape for me. Full Monty showering was as compulsory as ties on Wednesdays. Oddly enough, http://www.excelcontractors.com/__media__/js/netsoltrademark.php?d=nudebeach.cc/searches/teen-nudism-photos/5/ had any difficulty exposing their member but me. I eventually came up with ways around the system, like showering within my knickers, which gave me a moist wedgie for the day; or waiting until I was alone, which made me late to every course following P.E., and dripping wet in my now sweaty button-down top.
Nakedness at home was no less terrifying. Heck, I did not even look at myself, so bathing in my own toilet became a foolish, obsessive-compulsive ritual. It started with telling my family, "O.K., I 'm taking a shower now! Anything you do, do not come in!" Subsequently barricading my sister's bedroom door (the room we shared), double-checking that the door leading to the toilet was also locked, and as if that was not enough, keeping a hand over my crotch at all times, which made soaping and using the shower head challenging.
Me? Become a nudist? Never in a million years! But then, of course, I became one. Find out why in Part 2 of the story, coming next week!
Now take a look at Part 2: Boobs, Boobs Everywhere.
My Naturist Narrative Part 1: Least Likely to Become Naturist was printed by - Young Naturists and Young Nudists America FKK
Tags: body shame, modesty
Group: Naturist Website
About the Author (Author Profile)
By age six, I understood I was born to write, and by 12, discovered that clothing was unnecessary. My work is inspired by the 'heroic naked' common to my Greek ancestors, and my personal experiences with naturism. Please visit my website 'The Writer's Disorder' to learn more: http://writersdisease.blogspot.com/