Who Am I?
Born in New Zealand I was raised as an Anglican Christian, with all of the associated stigmas surrounding the taught shame relating to the human body.
By my late pre-teen years I departed from religion, more interested in sports, fishing, and of course going to places where girls were.
I Am A
I sit in front of a computer pretty much all day helping other people but I work from home, and that is the perfect environment to be when you are wearing your 'birthday uniform'.
Recently I have been reflecting on my naked life, to date, and have realised that I have been a nudist for as long as I can remember.
My Story
(intentionally misspelt)
My earliest memories of my nudist life were from a small town that I lived in.
I had a swimming pool outside the window of my bedroom, that opened out to a wooden deck. Although it was small by my standards today, when you are under 10 and short for your age, a 3 foot deep pool is awesome.
In summer, when it was warm enough (and sometimes even when it wasn't) I would open the windows, and climb out naked onto the back deck, and slide quietly into the water. It was usually a bit of a shock going from my warm bed into the cool pool, however, the feeling of skinny dipping without any irritating swimming costume was exhilarating, leaving me with goosebumps.
During my first few 'night swims' (they were always at night — when everyone in the house was asleep), I was as quiet as possible, and when I had cooled down sufficiently, I made a hasty retreat to my bedroom. Initially I had a fear of being caught, because in those days if you were caught doing things that your parents didn't like, it was reciprocated with a well swung belt, something that I had done my best to avoid.
Always in the back of my mind was the fear of getting caught. As I outlined above, the penalties for being caught was at the minimum a long lecture about when and where it is appropriate to wear clothes, and at the most extreme, a thrashing that meant I wouldn't be able to sit down for a week.
I did believe that my parents were pretty cool about things generally, but my sister had a big problem with always trying her best to make me receive a hiding, and no matter what I was doing she would yell out my name to get my parents' attention. Without any thought or trial, I was guilty by association, and that meant I would likely get some form of punishment.
GO TO YOUR ROOM! YOU JUST WAIT TILL YOUR FATHER GETS HOME!!!
Now those are words to live in fear of.
Mom would always defer my punishment, and I don't know what was worse — the fear
that as soon as dad came home he would be on the warpath, or that if I didn't get
the belt I was likely going to have an hour-long lecture about what I did or didn't do.
As I got older, I preferred the strap; at least that was the end of the matter.
As luck would have it, I never got caught naked (at least not by my parents), but there were many times when I was almost busted, having to hide behind something. One such occasion, I was just reaching the clothesline when I saw the kitchen light (from a room also opening out to the deck) come on. I quickly grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my waist like a makeshift skirt.
I realised as I walked back to the house, there was no point in climbing back through the window, as I would be clearly seen from the kitchen, and whoever was in there would know about my nightly stealth missions.
Opting for the 'head on' approach, I decided to go for the kitchen door (which was locked).
As I reached for the door handle and gave it a jiggle, my mom turned to the door
and looked at me quizzically.
(what to say, what to say???)