Sunday, September 30, 2018
Saturday, September 29, 2018
Saying goodbye to summer with one last trip to a water park. It wasn't quite the last day of August, but it was the weekend before Labor Day, when the season comes to a close. (To say that my posts are running a little bit behind would be an understatement). Like Persephone descending into the Underworld, on the way home I was lamenting that it would probably be at least another nine months before I got to see another girl in a bikini...
I tell you, it always gets to me - every single time. Pools and beaches and water parks - anywhere there's swimming - are like another world from the one we inhabit day in and day out. Every day, we receive these signals - some explicit, some subliminal - reinforcing the "sinfulness" of what could be considered "the pleasures of the flesh". Even if it's something as passive as people going about their business, their bodies mostly covered up in their clothes. Sure, people like sexiness - they consume it in mass quantities - but you're supposed to feel ashamed about it, and keep it hidden away behind a NSFW filter. A skirt that bares too much thigh invites disapproving looks. But then you go swimming, and it's like a veritable meat market. Butts and boobs are hanging out everywhere and nobody bats an eyelash. It's almost like they don't notice (although I'm certain they do - the fact that everybody still behaves in a civilized manner, as nudists do, demonstrates that it's not a problem having all that flesh on display). Because in that isolated context, for some reason, it's accepted.
And I couldn't be happier. There are so many beautiful girls wearing skimpy clothing with so much skin on display, it's almost blinding - long legs and bare feet, tight butts and flat tummies, collar bones and shoulder blades. It's a veritable feast for the eyes. And although you get a good variety, there are always plenty of fit, attractive specimens on display - and of all ages, not limited by the arbitrary taboos of "civilized" society. What I wouldn't give to be a model scout. I'm telling you, I could die on that boardwalk, and be the happiest soul in the universe haunting it for all eternity, just watching the bodies stroll on by, day after day after day. I appreciate the slightly fuller view you get in nudist situations, but honestly, the demographics can't compare. I've learned over the years that I'm willing to concede a few small strips of clothing for that enormous trade-off.
Not the prettiest weather for a day at the water park, but it
was hot and humid, and the rain stayed away, so no complaints.
The other thing that gets to me (and by now you're probably bored of hearing me complain about this) is the sheer ridiculousness of the double standard that exists between men and women, in terms of how much (or which) skin it is appropriate to display. I'm aware of the relativity of my perspective - in society, men are expected to fit one role (the appraisers), and women are expected to fit another (the appraised), and most people just fall into line without questioning it. To them, I am certainly an anomaly. I've always been told that I am unique - in the way that all parents tell their children they're unique - but out of the hundreds of people at the water park that day, I was literally one of a kind (from what I could see), as the only man wearing anything remotely akin to a swim brief.
Coming off the [literal] high of a water slide
that features a 60 foot vertical drop!
But if you actually sit down and think about it - and as someone who freely crosses the gender divide, I've spent a lot of time thinking about it - it just doesn't make any damn sense that, for example, a girl with her own butt cheeks hanging shamelessly out of her bikini bottoms would physically make the effort to turn her head and cover her eyes to avoid the sight of a man in the same condition.
Now, I get it. Men are, typically, gross. Not all are, by a long shot - but just as the archetype of womanhood is a curvy supermodel, the archetype of manhood is a hairy ape with a beer belly. If I'd have been an average male with a hairy ass jammed into a Speedo, and a belly spilling over the waistband, I could understand. But I'm not. And not all men are. Just because men aren't traditionally held up to the same level of grooming standards that women are, doesn't mean they are incapable of rising to those standards. I think that, to the same extent that it should be acceptable for a woman to not shave her legs consistently (and I actually saw one girl on the lazy river with visible leg hair), men should be subjected to the same pressure as women are to shave theirs. I am an equalist, that's all. A true egalitarian. Not a feminist who calls for equality, but really just wants to prop women up on a pedestal.
I, personally, hold myself up to higher grooming standards than the average male. Indeed, my standards are close (not equivalent - as I don't usually wear makeup - but close) to that of the average female. If you were to isolate a certain part of my body - say, my butt in a tight swim brief - and were then unable to reliably distinguish it from a woman's butt in a bikini bottom, then why should your reaction to either one be different, if the stimulus is close to identical? You don't have to like it or think it's attractive, but how can you shrug off a hundred women's asses, and then have such a visceral reaction to one man, whose butt does not look appreciably different? (Especially if you're sexually attracted to men - that's the part that really bakes my noodle).
The hypocrisy of double standards
Is it just because you're not prepared to think of a guy in that way? It's transphobic is what it is. I want to be able to play the role that females embrace without a second thought. I'm willing to work extra hard for it, because I'm coming from a different starting position. I just want it to be an option, a possibility. Why are people so hard-wired to respond with disgust to something they're not used to? Something that violates certain unspoken rules they've become accustomed to? I get that it's human nature, but it seems to me like an inferior nature. A cloistering, suffocating nature. Why would anyone want to just see the same thing over and over and over again? I mean, if it's what you like, that's great - I never want the parade of beautiful girls in bikinis to end (and I certainly wouldn't enjoy them wearing board shorts, even if they wore them topless - although I would absolutely defend their freedom to do so). But why would you disparage other options from even existing, when you know they could mean happiness for another person? We don't all have to be the same. Indeed, we are not the same. And trying to force us to act like it breeds unhappiness. So don't disparage the outliers, the trend-breakers, the trailblazers, and the nonconformists. You don't have to be one of them. Any more than they have to be one of you.
Afterthought: I don't know why I'm so preoccupied with butts. It occurs to me that the thing other people could be primarily concerned with is the bulge. Still, it's not healthy to live with a traumatic fear of even the vague suggestion of the shape of the male anatomy. Alternatively, perhaps it's because we live in an adolescent culture preoccupied with the size of men's "packages", and most guys want to keep their hand concealed. But I don't understand why it should be so much different than judging women by the size of their chests - something that's hard to hide in any kind of swimsuit. And it's not like the particularly well-endowed are in the habit of wearing so-called "banana hammocks" - reticence for swim briefs is across the board. Maybe I'm wasting my time trying to rationalize the issue - most people in this culture just aren't used to it, and have been programmed to respond with either humor or disgust. All there is to do is re-program - and the only way to do that is with more exposure. See enough plum smugglers, and the novelty is bound to wear off...eventually. Right?
Friday, September 28, 2018
The naughty cot returns! This time, I'm toying with the idea of being a girl...anatomically.
Rest assured, I have no plans to give up my penis. Although it does get in the way sometimes, and I would love to have the opportunity to test drive a vagina (although I don't know if I could afford the upkeep), surgery is an enormous hurdle, and an irreversible one, at that. I still have plenty of uses for my penis, not least of which includes satisfying the sex I am attracted to.
Thursday, September 27, 2018
I'm excited to announce the release of my first book designed for (more or less) general audiences. Over the past year, I've shot a series of self-portraits illustrating the various reasons a person might practice nudism. It's an informational and artistic showcase of both my photography and writing. Support me as an artist by picking up your copy today! (Now also available as an ebook).
Not convinced yet? Read more about it here.
Wednesday, September 26, 2018
I wish I could communicate to you in a photograph the warmth of the summer sunshine on my exposed skin, the texture of the grass and pavement under my feet - a constant reminder of my unclothed state - or the pleasant sensation of freedom that comes from the feeling of my genitalia swinging freely as I move (which would not be possible in an otherwise body-baring pair of shorts or a swim brief). I can hardly describe the holistic sensation of being naked, especially outdoors (but indoors, too). It is not sexual in nature (although it is not immune to erotic interpretation), but more akin to a spiritual delight. I can show the beauty of the human body in an image, and even hint at the joy I feel in practicing nudism, but I can't make you feel those things. Only by participating in the activity yourself is that possible.
But you may not experience it the way I do. Whatever combination of physical and psychological factors contributes to my enjoyment of being nude may not combine to form the perfect cocktail for you as it does for me. You cannot know without trying, but trying is not a guarantee of agreement. I can use my words to describe my perspective, and hope that you can empathize with me. But there is a possibility that you will not believe me, either because you do not know me and cannot trust me, or because my perspective clashes with your opposing one in some fundamental way.
What to do then, if you cannot understand me? Should I be forced to submit to your view, or should you be forced to submit to mine? And if either be the case, what justification is there for it not being the other way around? The only equitable solution I can foresee is for us to "agree to disagree". You continue your life under your perspective, and I continue my life under mine. Not forcing others to behave as we would choose to in the same circumstances, but allowing them the freedom to diverge.
But I cannot hope for all mankind to be so reasonable. Certainly, experience bears out the fallibility of the human condition. If I expect another to be my rational and tolerant equal, I should have no fear in going about my business, content that he will not object on grounds of mutual liberty. But I have learned not to be so gracious, for fear of my own safety. If that other is less than perfect, as we all are, then he may object on account of personal distaste; and however unjustified his complaint may be, I am likely to experience as much discomfort as I have "inflicted" upon him, whether at his hands or at the hands of the machinery of the state. What is the likelihood of this outcome? I do not know. For sure, it is not guaranteed. But it remains a possibility, and not an entirely unlikely one. So I must make a gamble, between living the life I want to lead, and caving to peer pressure in order to avoid a lesser or greater potential inconvenience.
I don't want this anxiety on my mind. To be true, my opponent has already won. Because even if I do continue my lifestyle as desired, I do so with a mental burden of fear. Is this just the price I have to pay for being different from the majority? Before, I was unselfconsciously pursuing my happiness - being naked outdoors, pursuing the vocation of photography. Not harming, not bothering anybody. Just minding my own business. But the fear of external judgment sabotages that peace. Should I continue minding my own business as long as anyone who stumbles upon me continues minding their own? Or should I make a self-sacrifice, to prevent the possibility of future complications? There are no easy answers in life.
Tuesday, September 25, 2018
The Glittering Veil
I actually wore this outfit on a quick run to the gas station - just as you see it: no shirt, no shoes, just skirt and purse. I didn't go in the gas station, of course; I just waited in the car. But it was still fun.
From certain angles, you could be forgiven for thinking I was naked. (Ever since I stumbled across this angle, I've been waiting for an opportunity to use it beyond the garage).
Although rationally, it's good to be prepared for contingencies (i.e., have something on hand with which to cover up), there's something thrilling about not having that safety net - the thought that, if something were to come up, you couldn't cover yourself even if you wanted to, and therefore you'd be forced into novel situations you wouldn't dare enter without a crutch, if you had the chance to make a reasoned choice. Situations with a likelihood of undesirable consequences that nevertheless seem like they'd be exciting in your fantasies, where everything works out to your benefit.
I don't know why there should be such a disconnect between the idea and the reality - that walking into a gas station naked should seem like it would be a good time, when in reality it would likely result in a stressful confrontation or worse. Perhaps that's why this sort of sexual psychology is considered an abnormality. The ideal scenario, I think, would be one in which I was aware of any and all potential onlookers, and able to evade each and every one, sneaking in and out of dangerous situations with the potential of being caught, but having the heightened sensory awareness to avoid detection (a scenario that our modern security camera-fixated society renders pretty much impossible).
Perhaps this sort of scenario is effective because it maximizes the thrill of being naked where you shouldn't, while ensuring that the negative outcome (getting caught) is never actualized. That's what I think makes this sort of activity so exciting - the constant reminder that you are only one small step from being exposed, without having to leave what minimal comfort zone you've maintained for yourself. More potent than couch surfing naked, but less dangerous than actually walking into a store. Like balancing on a razor wire - you get all the thrill of heights, without [one hopes] actually falling. But the excitement wouldn't be nearly as strong if there were not an actual drop below you.
Monday, September 24, 2018
Available in coy...
...and cheeky! -_^
This grass skirt is hopelessly stretched out. Seriously, you could fit two, maybe even three people in it! So I had it kind of doubled over and was holding onto it awkwardly.
Naturally, I began to explore novel ways of wearing it...
And that's as far as I got before my shoot was interrupted.
Sunday, September 23, 2018
I think this has turned out to be the swimsuit of the season for me this year. It's the first time I've actually been able to wear a bikini for swimming, and not just private photoshoots. I just wish I had the full range of fashion options that are available for genetic females.
It's terrible that I'm doubling up posts now, when I'm supposed to be scrambling to get one post up each day. Well, I guess it's not so terrible - it's one of those problems you have to be really fortunate to have. I like the security of knowing I could keep up posting for well over a month if I stopped taking pictures right now. But I know I won't. And every picture I take just adds to the backlog. So I'm trying to cut back a little bit on the taking, while I work towards catching up on the posting. I suppose the net profit is yours. :-p
Anyway, here's a theme that demands a better treatment. The lighting is very awkward, though, and the background is cluttered.
Saturday, September 22, 2018
So, I chained myself to a tree during a rainstorm. I really wish I could have recorded a video through the rain, but that would have been difficult (and not just because I was tied up). I wanted to take some after shots (all wet and dirty), too, but the rain just wouldn't let up enough for me to set my camera back up. Ah well. You'll just have to use your imagination.
It was exhilarating. It rained so hard I got soaked even under the tree. After a while it started to get cold, but those first fifteen minutes or so, when the rain was at its hardest (and so was I)...who knew being chained naked to a tree during a rainstorm - literally exposed to the elements - could be so much fun?
It required a bit of effort - and me standing on my tiptoes - but I actually managed to get my one hand just low enough by hooking my arm around the tree branch to stroke my cock. Suffice to say, it was a blast. I'd do it again, but only during a warm, summer rain.
Friday, September 21, 2018
This is one of those scenes that you might see a lot if you knew me (although I use my tripod more often than not), but that you don't see very much in my photography, for obvious reasons. Under "normal" circumstances, even if the model is posing nude, it's more "professional" for the photographer to remain clothed. But those are textile standards. The rules are a little bit different in a nudist environment. Although, ironically, cameras are about as shunned in nudist contexts as nudity is in textile contexts. That's not going to stop me from mixing them together, though. :-3
Thursday, September 20, 2018
I generally like to avoid too much repetition in my photography (although good themes are worth revisiting, and some are just so easy you can't help keeping them around on standby) - but to the extent that a daily photography project has a tendency to document my everyday life, mowing the lawn is an activity that one is bound to do many times over the course of a summer. Anyway, this time I made an animated gif!
And, because some of the corners of my yard are not as secluded as the rest (believe me, I wish I had the freedom not to care), this is what I wore to cover myself up in those sections:
I don't care if my neighbors are scandalized, I just don't want to be criminally culpable - if I can avoid it.
When I was done with the yard work - all hot and sweaty and ready to rinse off with the hose - I figured it would be a good opportunity to demonstrate how my new tan-through swimsuit looks when it's wet. I don't think there's an appreciable difference compared to when it's dry, but you can determine for yourself whether it's any more see-through than a regular wet swimsuit. Certainly, it's not completely transparent.