Naked Journey: Indoctrination Of Shame

I.
When did you first become ashamed of your naked body - and where? At a pool? In a locker room? Changing in front of strangers - or, even worse, friends? Maybe shame descended and entrapped you while you were sitting fully clothed in a church, school, or the dinner table where you were conditioned to believe that nudity was dirty and sinful.

But perhaps you were lucky enough not to have been dealt a crippling, warped sense of shame by family, religion, or society.

I had the misfortune of growing up in a Catholic, guilt-laden home where nude bodies were never seen or barely mentioned. In fact, I might have doubted if anyone besides myself was naked beneath their ever present clothes - did anyone else have this weird thing hanging between their legs that usually dangled, but could change shape and size?

I guess it started out OK, in fact there are even celebrated photographs of me, six months old, lying naked as a jay bird on the kitchen table, and another of me enjoying a bath in a plastic tub, outside in the summer sun. Of course I had no shame at that point - I barely had a sense of myself. But as I grew and started developing that sense of self, I was also imprinted with a sense that part of myself was inherently bad, evil, and “naughty."

The six month-old me with the audacity to enjoy being naked without any sense of shame or wrong doing!

  II.
As far as I can remember I always loved the feeling of being naked and was curious about the human body. But unless I was bathing, I was expected to wear clothes. As soon as I got out of the tub or shower I was toweled off and immediately covered. I distinctly remember attempting to flee the scene and run around the house in perfect freedom. Inevitably I was caught, admonished, and concealed.

Not even night and sleep brought freedom - a full pajama set went on over tighty whitey under pants. If I was discovered to have shed my night clothes once under the blankets, once again I would get a stern talking to and have to suite back up. We had a backyard pool, in which I dared not skinny dip, but after getting out of the pool I would peel off the wet, constricting swim suite and remain naked under my towel for as long as I could before being discovered and ordered to go get dressed. The messaging was consistent and clear - nudity was not accepted and was wrong. The body - especially one’s “privates” - was bad.

The most traumatic incident following this doctrine was when I was playing a common neighborhood game of "Pull Down Pants," where on the count of three a group of kids would all pull down our pants and check out each other's bodies. During one such session behind a tree in the yard, when playing with Mike and Nancy from up the street, my much older sister rounded the corner as we stood with our clothes around our ankles giggling at each others’ floppy things and folds.

When my sister discovered us she erupted in a flash of white rage and screamed,"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!! STOP IT!!! PULL UP YOUR PANTS AND GET IN THE HOUSE THIS INSTANCE!!!” As my friend hobbled out of the garden gate with their underwear around the ankles, my sister grabbed me by the arm and marched me into the house where she describe the horrible, sinful scene to my mother, who promptly set me to stand facing a corner until dinner.

III.

My "gateway" book to nudist conciousness - My grandfather's copy of Wonders Of The Past by J.A. Hammerton's , published in 1937 and featuring salacious photos of uninhibited Greek and Roman statues.

Needless to say I realized I had to hide my horrible and dirty joy of nudity. I also firmly believed I was a freak and a monster who would be punished by god. But that still didn’t crush my interest in the human body and being naked. I looked to forgotten, old books at my grandparents, especially J.A. Hammerton’s WONDERS OF THE PAST. Wonders had pages of grainy photographs of Grecian and Roman art. I was obsessed with the statues that so openly celebrated the beauty and art of naked bodies!

Another “influential” book was The Illustrated Beatles Lyrics by Alan Aldridge, which contained many nude images, including one of a boy and girl in a field, fully naked - kids just like me!

Then there was my father’s “secret” magazine collection buried deep in his dresser - mostly Playboy and the like. But the one I remember most was a nudist magazine. It’s vivid four color photos burned into my being. Everyday people - men, women - gathered around a picnic table in the sun, eating an average meal. Nothing was out of the norm - except they were all naked. Penises, hairy mons pubis, ass cheeks - all clearly visible with obviously no attempt to hide them, or to show them off. Just average people eating an average meal and giving not a care in the world that they were naked and being photographed. ?!? I must have been no older than 6 or 7, but I was bewildered, stunned, and captivated. So naked worlds do exist!!!

The other thing that stands out in my mind, other than the flashy orange brilliance of the four color printing, was the presence of actual oranges. Yes, oranges. And because of the prominence of the oranges I believe the photo below is from that same photo shoot. I’ve seen a few orange centric nudist photos here and there, but have never found the entire magazine. If you know what it is, let me know!

A photograph (I believe) from a forgotten nudist magazine from my father's private collection buried deep in his dresser's drawers. I sometimes wonder if my discovery of this magazine when I was about 6 or 7 "turned" me nude!

The ten year-old me as I was falling into the sinful practice of masturbation. I was the only adolescent boy on earth at the time regularly indulging in the evil and unnatural art of autoeroticism and having mind blowing orgasms as a result. Even worse, I enjoyed it!

IV.

By the time I was ten, most of my siblings had moved out, so I gained a bit more privacy and finally a room to myself. After showering, I went to my room and closed the door, where I lingered in just my towel, listening to music, flipping through books, and especially enjoying when the towel would “slip off” and I just hung out and existed naked.

During this time I started noticing changes with my penis and balls. Since the concept of puberty was never presented to me - and I was a bit ahead of everyone in the gym class locker room - I had no idea what was going on. Talk about naive - for god's sake, I thought pee was stored in my scrotum!

I started spending more and more time “exploring” my penis, and eventually the touching became full on stroking. I became lost in the delirious, weird, dreamy pleasure it provided. One day, while floating in ecstasy, I started to feel feverish and nauseous, but was compelled to keep going - then WHAM!!! An electric bolt blinded me and I fell from a cliff into my first orgasm. What the hell!?! I had no idea what had happened. I was terrified - what was this sticky stuff that shot from my tip? I must have broken my penis. I wasn’t even sure it felt good. In ignorance I was certain god was punishing me for my naked joy.

But that didn't stop me the next night from once locking the door after my shower and surfing waves of pleasure - and this time when I climaxed I had no doubt that it was the best feeling I had ever experienced! I became - to quote The Buzzcocks - an orgasm addict. But god was watching and most certainly punishing me every time I came. Each orgasm was the reason I got bullied, lost friends, fell off bikes, stubbed my toe, or got a bad grade on a paper. I was the only dirty, perverted boy in the world who masturbated - and for that I deserved all of god’s wrath.

If only I had known of this song's existence when I was convinced I was the only living boy who couldn't keep his hands of his dick!

V.

Now my non-sexual love of nudity had became overtaken by my love of orgasms. Since naked time was limited, I made sure every minute was dedicated to sexual pleasure. But as I headed into my later teens I was the only child left at home and gained even more private time - so after masturbating I would linger in bed naked, and every once in a while fell asleep without pajamas or underwear. Eventually it became inconceivable - post masturbation or not - to sleep in binding, twisted clothes. 

Some summer nights I would sneak out to the pool, strip by the ladder, slip into the water, and float in naked ecstasy. The water caressing my body was intoxicating. During the days when I had the house to myself, I would lay naked on a towel in the yard, sweating in the glorious summer sun. These were intensely sensual events - not sexual. But I still believed them to be sexual, perverted and dirty actions. Around this time I also got kicked out of CCD - the Confraternity of Christian Doctrine - in other words Sunday school - for asking too many questions. Thankfully my mother was so enraged by this that she said I didn’t have to return to CCD or church if I chose not to - so the religious power of shame started to erode on me.

I also started reading “alternative” books and listening to more and more non mainstream music - graduating from Queen to Bowie - and slipped into the counter culture with my close, outsider friends. I questioned what I had been raised on and the norms of society. I might have thought nudity and sex were still dirty, and I might still be a pervert - but by my late teens I knew I wasn’t alone.

After I graduated high school, in 1986, I moved to San Francisco with that group of friends and left behind my Catholic life of fear and shame. San Francisco was a world were nudity and sexuality were regularly on display - at street fairs, official nude beaches, night clubs and even with roommates. I was still too prudish, fearful, embarrassed - and conditioned - to freely join in with social nudity, but now nudity and body freedom was more of the norm instead of a persecuted abhorrence. In the privacy of my own room I started to regularly live without need or want for clothes. I was finally free to realize - and accepted - I was a nudist.

My naked self - perhaps finally free from all of the oppressive bullshit I had been fed about the naked human body since birth. And I am damn proud to say, Naked Is Good! 

To Be Continued...