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I was headed on vacation with my husband to a town with a nude Nude walk on the beach for a week, and I decided we absolutely must visit it no matter how uncomfortable the idea made me. My sweet husband wasn't crazy about the idea, but being the supportive guy he is, Nude walk on the beach got on board.

There is a swirl of reasons I was attracted to the idea of a nude beach. 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. 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.

My time with this reasonably ripe body was running out, and I figured I'd better do something with it. Getting naked at the beach seemed like the perfect thing I laugh at the accuracy and decide to throw on my favorite and most flattering swimsuit, just in case I chicken out.

Even though I never wear makeup to the beach, I find myself slathering it on — my tits may be out, but at least my dark circles will be well undercover. As we drive to the beach I start to get increasingly nervous. It seems like fate; the foreword alone shakes me to my core. I find myself tearing up by the end of the first four pages. I relate to it all so hard it hurts.

And it reveals a purpose in my nude-beach expedition that I knew deep down inside but couldn't find the words to say. I'm doing this nude beach trip to take back my body, which society Nude walk on the beach ago decided it owned. To take back what's mine. I'm doing it to spite the teen boys who weren't worthy of me awkwardly flashing them in high school, in some bizarre practice of trying to seem Nude walk on the beach. I'm doing it to show the world my body isn't theirs to force into a size or shape, to decide what happens to my ovaries, or how high my tits should rest.

I'm doing it for my fucking self. I am not a Nude walk on the beach bunny. My ancestors descended from snowy mountains. Pale and soft like a Russian cloth doll, I look like I should be draped in wolf pelts to stay warm at any given moment. I put this aside for the moment as we trek down the shore. I see several middle-aged women glistening nude in the sun, walking about — lumps and bumps be damned!

It feels like a paradise; all I want out of life is to dance naked under the sun and moon with fellow women.

I suddenly not only don't want to undress, but I also want to run and hide. We keep walking, and as we go farther down the beach it becomes apparent that the group of women I saw were the only ones there. The rest of the beach is teeming with older men — penises waving in the sun. These are nudists, this is a respectable beach. We go ahead and take the older guy's advice, stopping there.

I try to be chill and decide to start by taking off just my top. Horrified, I quickly grab a piece of clothing and cover my breasts. The man then starts to walk down the beach and I try to calm myself. I give myself a moment to settle and an internal pep talk. Take back your body! I yell in my mind. With that, I peel off the rest of my clothes.

I feel vulnerable and soft, like a snail without its shell simmering in the sun. I try to position myself on the beach chair in a way that covers some of my most private bits.

Nude walk on the beach horror is laced with small bursts of enjoyment when the breeze hits my bare chest. Infuriated at the double standard, I am incentivized more to try to relax and enjoy this experience. I pull my book out for a distraction. I make my husband put our umbrella up a task I usually take care of in fear of moving in weird positions while nude.

I Nude walk on the beach as he brazenly does whatever he pleases: running to the ocean, sunning his bottom, having a snack. In a last-ditch effort to enjoy myself, I head to the water for a dip. I head back to my chair and spend some time watching passersby.

When two straight couples walk by, in both pairs the male is fully nude, balls swinging about. And in both pairs, the female has her towel draped carefully over her breasts.

Feeling defeated, I pull my swimsuit back on. It fueled my fire to try to get the way I feel about my body on level playing ground with the men I saw on the beach regardless of how they Nude walk on the beach about it. Ideally one Nude walk on the beach more women and more privacy. Loryn Brantz.


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