How I came to appreciate the clothes-free life

My story of how I first discovered naturism for myself

When I was 14 I was raped. Not the cheeriest of starts to a positive article on body freedom, but a fundamental fact nonetheless. That, combined with the fact that I had a relatively Catholic upbringing shaped my views on both nudity and sex for years to come, and to some extent always will.

For many years, I had no particular opinion on nudity beyond what British society teaches; that is it is a necessity when washing and between changing clothes, and somewhat expected during sex. And sex was not something I had a particularly great liking for. Nudity outside those contexts was either funny, or disgusting.

And then five years a go I met – or rather re-met – my now husband. We’d known about each other when we were at school together in the 80s, but had gone our separate ways in life afterwards. Through Facebook, and a mutual school friend organising a reunion, he and I got chatting online. Then phone calls, then visits, then one day he didn’t go home again.

Before we met face to face, he had told me he was a ‘naturist’ – whatever that actually meant. He even sent me a picture of himself at the World Naked Bike Ride in Exeter. I initially thought it wouldn’t be a problem, but when he was in my house, making cups on tea in the kitchen without clothes on, I couldn’t bear it. Never had I been faced with the prospect of casually seeing a penis when I was trying to cook, and I genuinely felt revolted. What is more, my daughter was eight at the time, and the idea of her seeing a grown man’s penis just seemed plain wrong to me.

We talked about it, and even had a few ‘robust discussions’, but generally he did cover up around myself and always around my daughter, although he constantly tried to push my boundaries. Despite this ‘quirk’ I fell in love with him and August 2020 marked our third wedding anniversary.

As a software developer he works from home a lot, and it even made me uncomfortable knowing that he was naked when he was alone in the house. I guess over time, seeing that his desire to be clothes-free wasn’t something he could just give up, I came to accept it. I love him after all, and want him to be happy. Last year I gave him my blessing to go to a naturist club; something he had given up doing when we first got together. I now trusted him that clubs weren’t anything kinky or sexual, and if his nudity was away from me then I could live with it.

Roll on March this year and the great lockdown of 2020 as the history books will record it. He was lucky in that his work continued throughout the pandemic, albeit with a reduction in hours. I, however, was furloughed. As a retail manager, my store had to close and suddenly I was at home 24/7. I had lost a fair bit of weight in the months prior, and unlike many, continued to do so during lockdown. My dislike for my own body wasn’t so great as it had been, and people’s comments that I was ‘looking great’ had given me a little more confidence in myself.

So, on a whim, one sunny afternoon in April, I was browsing Facebook again and came across a job advert wanting mature, natural women to model lingerie for an online retailer. And I applied! I never expected to hear from them again, but they contacted me asking for more photos. Now, my husband had been a keen amateur photographer in his youth, but hadn’t done anything seriously with his camera for several years. Nevertheless he leapt at the chance to photograph me wearing very little. I must admit, I enjoyed doing the modelling too. But here I was, about to send pictures of myself in my underwear to someone in an entirely non-sexual context. It was weird. But I’m so glad I had the guts to do it as the praise was fantastic. I even got to keep the lingerie I modelled for them. And I’ve featured in their Facebook and Instagram adverts more than once since.

I decided that if there was a call to see women like me model, then I was the woman for the job. I signed up to a photography/modelling website and my husband set about building my portfolio. I even added tasteful nude images, and the feedback from other photographers and models alike was just brilliant. My body confidence rose. My husband, meanwhile, had got involve with a new photographic project that was just starting entitled “Normalising Nudity”. The premise is to have interesting photographs in situations that non-naturists will relate to, but where the people in the pictures just happen to be naked. The emphasis is supposed to be on something else, and the nudity incidental. Buoyed by my recent compliments I agreed to join in on the WhatsApp group as this small band of models and photographers, naturists and non-naturists got together and attempted to come up with ideas and locations, and just waiting for lockdown to be lifted.

And so it was that on a Saturday in July I found myself nervously doing something I never imagined I'd do – walking into Max’s Garden Naturist Retreat in West Sussex. I told myself that I was there to do a job, and my husband was right there with me reassuring me that I could keep my dress on – well, until the photos were going to be taken anyway. I wanted to bolt out of there but I didn't want to let anyone down.

But then… I volunteered to be the one clothed model for the first shoot not realising that I'd be the centre of attention as it was for a mock life drawing class. As the shoot went on, I realised that the time has come to get naked for the sake of the photos, and so with a deep breath, I did. And we did the shoot and then went for a cup of tea. And no one laughed at me, or looked disgusted by the sight of my body. Nobody could care less.

We got talking to another couple and after the shoot had ended we sat with them and shared a few drinks. My dress had been on and off a few times, but as I relaxed I actually felt like the odd one out when wearing it. Indeed I was surprised at how quickly I stopped seeing naked people and just saw people. And everyone was the same. Nudity is a great leveler, and everyone was just so friendly. I really felt a sense of belonging. So much so we booked to stay for two nights for my forthcoming birthday weekend.

I'm not a ‘naturist’ though. Not because I disagree with the philosophy any more, but because I simply dislike being labelled. I've accepted myself as I am, and actually I really quite like myself right now. I've accepted my husband and others too. And now I've experienced it I've had a glimpse into why social nudity is, well, so social. If I want to wear clothes I will, and if I don't, I won't. It's as simple as that really. The freedom to choose is now mine.