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Everything has a cost;

life is full of tradeoffs. Like a street seller in a mid-eastern bazaar,
nature is constantly offering us unbelievable bargains. If we don't need his fine,
Hand made pottery now, maybe some rare, imported WTF?!? ... Because he understands
we are uniquely able to recognize the quality of his products, he'll let's have
our selection for an outrageously low price.
What will we choose, if
the only cost nature asks now is to give up our clothing for a couple of hours or a
day? A taste of independence? An considerable bouquet of awesome sensations? A feeling of
connectedness and belongingness to the natural world?
Yes, and what if we could
Manage at times to splurge, to be without our clothing for whole days all
together, even at the cost of occasional distress? What then?
I recall being at the playground once I was maybe 5 or 6 years old, early on a
This was clear to me and to her, but many of the
other children had already been indoctrinated against nudity. They thought he had to
be taken home because he was indecent. A two-year old? This event was really
curious to me, since I comprehended that the children were mimicking the activities
and attitudes of each other and their parents. Without knowing the word for it,
I still recognized the conventionality that drove them to imitate others in this
That same summer, or possibly
pull down our pants and reveal our pudenda to each other. It was a matter of play
for them and interested indifference to me. I was more interested in why they cared
than in the real exploration. The third girl, smilingly happily and
playfully, exhibited clearly unusual genitalia, and the first girl responded
by saying something like, "Oh, yuck! I'm going to tell my mum!" I 'd no notion
The way to manage this, but I knew right then that a great injury had been
perpetrated. That little girl, I learned later, underwent several operations and
a very depressing puberty.
During one of Mira Vista: -pubescent years I skinny dipped with my mom one time, my dad watching
over us above the river bank. Her squeals were louder than the frisson of the
water could account for, and she never stopped grinning. It's the only sober
laugh I recall hearing from my mother while I was growing up. I also used to
wash my dad's back when young; that was one of our rituals, along with
watching the fights on Friday nights. Both rites discontinued after my first
brother was born, except that after I began menstruating, my mum
Out of the blue instructed me to go wash my father's back. He was really quiet
Detected it during those previous tubs. My father died at age 36 of a heart
attack and my mum is a proudly recovering alcoholic now.
Much of my youth, as I
Recall it, was spent watching and listening. I wasn't as compelled as others
to act out or try, with one exception. Two lads were gleefully pulling
expressions. This was something I couldn't figure out by observation alone, so
on another day shortly after, I ran an experiment. There was a spider I Had been
watching for a while, managing to see it once as it caught and gorged on prey.
Well, I caught it in a jar when other children were gathered around and made them
stop and look. Then I let this spider out, and as it was walking away I slowly
lifted my foot, clad in a white sandal that I could probably understand today,
And I comprehended the looks on
Why is this even pertinent
to a narrative of how I got into nudism? Well, I Will need to tell about more of those
Sorts of boys and how they awakened my sexuality while also awakening shame. Or
Instead, I can not distinguish those lads from the others who came later. Or the
Harshness afterwards seen on me reverberated with my preceding harshness to the spider.
I don't know. They are merely inseparable.
When I was in fifth grade
I Area. He insulted me and my boyfriend, and since I was larger, I took it upon
myself to defend our honour with a proper fistfight. By this age I was beginning
to participate life, you see, instead of just find. Later a third boy, after
ominously forewarning me, grabbed me on the way home from school to steal a
kiss. Indignant and incensed, I told my mother, who called the school. Well, the
school official surmised that I was the one who'd been the aggressor,

About the Author

Balslev Murray life is full of tradeoffs. Like a street seller in a mid-eastern bazaar,
nature is constantly offering us unbelievable bargains. If we don't need his fine,
Hand made pottery now, maybe some ra


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