After years of being naked in front of all the guys in the barracks, strolling naked around college dorm mates, and having attended a multitude of jack off parties, it should have been no big deal; second nature. But, the first time I dropped trou on a nude beach I was nervous anyway.
Two things worried me. One, my body no longer had the dancer’s tone it once did, and Two, what if I pop a woody???
Walking onto the beach, looking around, I saw damn few perfect bodies if I, in fact, saw any! I found a decent spot to spread my towel, kicked off my beach sandals, pulled my shirt off over my head and…stopped. Suddenly, my pits drenched with sweat and my man-berries kinda shriveled up. But if I was going to do this, I couldn’t let on I was being a wuss about it.
I gazed up and down the stretch of sand. There must’ve been close to two-hundred people; men and women lying on towels tanning, wading in the surf, tossing frisbee’s around, playing volley ball. I squinted behind my sunglasses; Holy crap! Does that guy over there know he has a boner??? How could you not know your cock is doing a perfect imitation of a flag pole? Or he didn’t give a shit? And as I swept my eyes across the sea of people, I realized: Nobody cared.
I dropped my suit to the sand and kicked it on top of the sandals and strolled to the water.
The truth is, once you’ve done this – bared everything – you realize it doesn’t matter if you have six-pack abs and perfect pecs or if you have a spare tire and man-boobs. Or your dick is small. Nobody cares! They aren’t there to ogle you. Will they look at you? Of course! You’re looking at them, aren’t you? Will they judge you? Why shouldn’t they; you’re judging them. But, to be honest about this, it’s very fleeting; a quick glance, a flashing thought, and your brain moves on to other things.
The worries and concerns over our bodies get in the way of so many things in our lives, they hold us back from enjoying ourselves.
My wife had to get a pretty good drunk on before she finally doffed her suit one night during a party in our back yard. By the time she did, everyone else had been naked for a couple of hours, including a few pretty hefty folks. Now she doesn’t find it so difficult, cottage-cheese thighs and all.
Society trains us to be ashamed of what we were born with and the extreme-right religious conservatives lead the marches for “moral decency” during the week. Then on Sunday morning their pastor stands at the pulpit and tells them we were “made in God’s image.” Yet they still don’t see the conflict in the messages they’re sending out. If we are indeed made in His image, why feel shame, why do we have to hide? What is so horrific about God’s design that it must stay hidden from view? It’s not my intention to offend anyone who may have strong religious beliefs. But let me leave you with a couple of questions to ponder, and if any of you readers out there have answers, I’d love to hear them!
Let’s assume man is made in God’s image, and (for those believers) Jesus was the son of God:
Did Jesus have a penis?
Did Jesus ever get a hard-on?
Ease up on yourself. Don’t be embarrassed by what nature has given you. If you think it would be fun to hit a nude beach or take a nude cruise, go. Once you get over the fear and experience the awesome sense of freedom you’ll find a host of new liberty in all areas of your life and wonder why you waited so long.
If you get a hard-on, so what? Kick back and let it soak up the sun and surf.
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