I rode my bike across a stream. I used to get off the bike and push to the other side, because I thought I would fall over. But I managed to stay on the bike, defying my previous expectations. On my return trip my bike swirled in the mud of the stream and I had to stop and get off, but I didn't fall over. I managed to maintain balance, stepping into the stream with my bare foot, something that would be very uncomfortable with shoes on.
The first step out the back door introduced my body to a slight breeze and the soft sound of droplets hitting the paved path leading to the bridge just outside my backyard. As I step down the steps to the pavement I feel the first drops of warm spring rain tingling my bare feet. The breeze carries with it the scent of washed asphalt, damp earth, and water vapor.
Instead, she heard it from my mother, who heard it from who knows who, who heard it from local gossips, whose brains have constructed this image of me naked after photons have passed through glasses an inch thick, which their eye is still too broken to actually focus properly onto their respective retinas, but have brains rotten enough to turn a blurry image into a vicious gossip.
[...] there's a little drawback to getting my base tan purely from gardening, as that way I mostly only tan my shoulders, the back of my neck, my back, arms, and a portion of my legs. This leaves me with the most problematic area in terms of tanning - my torso - looking like cheese. But, I suppose, tanning half my body on the deck chair is faster and more comfortable than tanning my whole body on a beach towel.
[T]his very idea started brewing in my head when I saw one of the videos on YouTube with Tim Minchin (whose work I started admiring when I stumbled upon his poem Storm, shortly after which I saw Matilda the Musical on Broadway and decided I still admired his work, which led me to the said YouTube video) performing on stage barefoot. I looked up if he ever said why he performed barefoot, and found that he has. The answer is quite simple - he likes it.
I found myself roaming what I could best describe as a deserted, overgrown orchard. Its south edge was actually a cliff, or a very steep slope. So, it was either braving the slope, or turning back.
I have a feeling that if there's any snow this winter, it will be wet and the ground won't freeze over as it's supposed to and there will be mud everywhere. I sincerely hope this winter proves me wrong. I wanna make a snow angel naked, without getting all muddy.
Back when I was still a beginning nudist, I often thought of things I can and can't do in the nude. One of the things I put in the "can't" category was running. I always thought that, well, things would start flapping around uncontrollably, if you know what I mean.
Everything I said in the previous posts I mentioned in the context of reaching the goals one wants achieve. There are, however, four essential things which one simply has to be able to do naked, or else they may endanger their - and even somebody else's - life.
The most difficult step for some might be that first time of simply being naked for seemingly no reason. I can relate to the feeling of being watched, laughed at, sneered at, from every tiniest crack in the window blinds, through the keyhole of the locked door, from the closed closet - and if you're doing it in a pitch black room, lying on your bed (covered or not) naked, from the side, or under your bed, or looming above you a figure staring critically at the shape of your body beneath the sheets just waiting to get you should a patch of skin show; and even though it's completely dark you think that they can see you.