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What Can An Amateur Nudist Teach Us About Taking Risks

What Can An Amateur Nudist Teach Us About Taking Risks

Today, I received the following letter from one of my friends. Turns out she_s recently become an amateur nudist. The Letter Today, I did something that I_ve never done before. Something fun, that is _ I_ve never changed the oil on my car before but that_s not exactly on my great-things-to-do-in 2011 list. Nope, today I did something a little unexpected (for prudish me). A little uncommon. A little, well, naughty. You see, today, I swam in the ocean. Without, um, anything on. Except sunscreen, of course, because I_m not com completely freaking insane. Yep, you heard right. No swimmers, cozie, bathers, togs, bikini, tankini or even a strategically-placed sarong. Nuthin. Zip. Nada. As naked as naked can be. Which is pretty damn naked, really. Better Than Bondi A close friend of mine has become quite the _naturalist_ lately and has even graduated from nude swimming to nude fishing (yep, casting a line with a hook on the end of it _sans clothes_ is not for the faint-hearted). Although she had often invited me to join her (keep it clean fellas), I had always politely said _no_ _ whilst really thinking _not on your freaking life, Missy_. But today I felt different. Today, I felt like pushing the boundaries. I felt like letting go of my prim conventionality and getting over myself for five minutes. Today, I said with awe-inspiring confidence, _Oh, um, really? Shit. Oh. All right._ Yep, crashing through those boundaries like a ninety year-old man with late-stage emphysema. Now, before you call the police (or my mother), it was a designated nudey beach on beautiful Sydney Harbour. There is quite a bushwalk (hike) through a National Park to get there and even then you have to scale down a five metre cliff to reach the sand. BTW, if reincarnation is real, I definitely wasn_t any kind of well-coordinated climbing primate in a previous life. And here_s a free tip: the descending-the-cliff thing is best done before removing one_s garments. Just so you know. Once we got there (unscathed), I could see that the ocean wind had carved smooth caves into the tall cliffs bordering the sand and my friend and I laid our towels in the shade and took in the view. The beach is almost com completely as it would have been over two hundred (or million, for that matter) years ago and if it weren_t for the mansions in the distance elbowing each other for a harbourfront position, you could imagine that you were part of a pristine, untouched, natural setting. It was a beautiful day and the water was incredibly clear. There were only four other people on the beach. They were all lying on their towels at different intervals along the sand, alone, naked _ and hopefully wearing sunscreen too. They weren_t ogling anyone like sleazy men in grey raincoats on trains; they were just enjoying the sunshine. Getting My Kit Off So, the time came to undress. The big reveal. I normally loathe this part at the beach _ and that_s when I_m wearing swimmers! I always imagine the stares of the skinny eighteen year-olds as they take in my cellulite and quietly promise themselves _OMG I am so, like, nevva going to let my butt look like that._ I normally feel so self-conscious, so exposed and so un-women_s-magazine-like. Today, though, none of those feelings were present. It just felt right, logical even, that when you go for a swim, you take off all your clothes. Weird, I know. But in that situation, in that environment, in that moment, wearing clothes would have made me the odd one out. Isn_t it amazing how something totally weird and terrifying can become com completely normal and com comfortable when a few of the variables change? Hmm, am I beginning to sound like someone you and I both know? I digress. Now, I have to be honest and say that swimming in the ocean on a beautiful day would be pretty hard to beat even if you were wearing mechanic_s overalls. However, nothing has ever made my whole body feel as fabulous and alive as being naked in the water today. I kept smiling like a goofy six year-old. Maybe it_s because it was reminiscent of being in the womb (because I remember that so well, of course) or maybe it_s because we human beings are predominantly water. I dunno. I just know that I was expecting it to be an uncom comfortable, confronting experience and it was com completely the opposite. In fact, when the time came to put my clothes back on I felt like having a toddler tantrum and refusing. Which would have made the drive home through Sydney traffic somewhat interesting, of course. What started out as an attempt to show my girlfriend that I hadn_t become a Nanna before my time, turned out to be something much more. And no, it wasn_t about the nudity (sorry boys) it was about the exhilaration of realising (and truly believing) that the forty year-old, soon-to-be-divorced (story for another day) mother of two, did not need to be determined by her past. Or her self-limiting thinking. Or the rules and expectations of others. Or her fear. I Promise To_ As I drove home (yes, clothed) I made a vow to allow myself to experience new stuff. Stimulating stuff. Unconventional stuff. Exciting stuff. Out-of-my-comfort-zone stuff. Without over-thinking it, labeling it or having any expectations either way. Of course, I have no plans to become a career nudist but I do have plans to become a career adventurer. Explorer. Doer-of-fun-things. Pusher-of-my-own-boundaries. To be totally honest, I_m a little tired of safe, sensible, predictable, fearful me. And that_s who I_ve been for much of my life. I think it_s time to stop pre-judging how I expect to feel and to just give things a go. And to buy a much stronger brand of sunscreen, of course. So, how about you? Is it time for you to nude up? So to speak.
Craig Harper is one of Australia's leading self help authors. craigharper/news/my-new-book-the-self-help-sledgehammerbook on self help - Craig Harper

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