Everyone was flawed and lovely, and everyone had something to offer.When I was laying there sunbathing with my new friend, I realized I had to pee.I could hear exactly when it was hungry, and feed it just what it wanted, whether that was a giant salad, or Oreos slathered in peanut butter.I could feel when it wanted to move; rather than telling myself I "should" work out, I simply wanted to feel my naked form stretch and swim in the sun.Still, walking remained more challenging than swimming or sunbathing naked, in many ways because it reminded me more of my experiences as a woman feeling vulnerable on the street; I realized I'd internalized the male gaze to the extent that I had come to view walking as a vulnerable act. Apparently, I missed the memo that nudists go bare. Even all the men had nothing below their paunches besides, well, you know.As scary as it was at first, walking naked at Hedonism still felt safer than walking home in a bad neighborhood alone at night, fully clothed. I've written before about why I choose to rock a full bush, but at Hedonism, I was really tested to embrace my decision fully.My impulse was to pull on my dress along with my sandals, but seeing all the nudists clustered over by the bar, I realized putting clothing on was actually totally unnecessary."I think I'm going to get up, but I'm kind of scared! "Walking and standing up feels different than laying down.""Oh my God, it's totally different than laying down!" she exclaimed."I'm doing it."I walked to the bathroom, and, lo and behold, nobody catcalled me, or made me feel weird in the slightest. When I did it again an hour later, I was so confident I even swiveled my hips a little.
In our puritanical society, the word "hedonism" has gotten a bad rap.My little boobs, which I'd carefully accentuated for years with lightly-lined bras, were now out and bare.