Everyone Is Naked Underneath

Soaking in our hot tub this morning, my husband read aloud from the New York Times about vacationing at a nude resort in France; the author was not thrilled. I could relate: The last time I appeared nude in public was in a Brooklyn hospital, immediately after sliding out of the birth canal. If I could remember that far back, I was likely pretty steamed about it.

Since then I have consistently opted for clothing, saving nakedness for special occasions like showers, baths and intimate situations for invited guests only. Likewise, I have no interest whatsoever in seeing strangers in the altogether, especially given the state of the typical adult body these days. (Children are fine, up to a point.) As for a nude restaurant in a nude resort, there is no way I could eat surrounded by pasty, bloated bodies covered with moles, warts and scars as far as the eye could see. On the other hand, fabulously toned pecs and perky breasts would condemn eating anything beyond a glass of water and a few celery sticks as foolhardy.

The issue of whether to dress or not rarely presents itself, living as I do not in the South of France but in Maine; if there are any nude beaches here, I haven't heard about them. I say "rarely," because the topic does come up from time to time. My husband and I partake almost daily of the therapeutic waters in our Sundance Capri which dominates our outdoor deck, directly opposite our nearest neighbors and visible to the street. Mitch goes in naked and I wear a bathing suit. He scoffs at my modesty and I berate his exhibitionism. This exchange occurs not every time but almost every time we go in for a soak.

The idea of a nude beach is simply appalling to me, although less so than a nudist colony where all activities are done naked. What's the point? Sunburned breasts? Scaring strangers? Disturbing the peace? I just don't get it. You have no pockets; where's your cell phone? As for the hot tub, it seems unhealthy to have all those necessary anti-bacterial chemicals seeping into all my bodily orifices. My husband points out that the porous material of my bathing suit is not an impenetrable barrier and that seeping occurs regardless of my one-piece Jantzen. As for skinny-dipping in a lake or the ocean, just thinking of schools of jelly fish, clumps of seaweed, and all that other unidentified detritus sliding across my skin gives me the willies.

Don't get me wrong: in certain circumstances, nudity is the only solution. I just want the option to choose when, where, and with whom.