First Naturist Blog By Nick Alimonos About Becoming a Nudist
 Become a Naturist - Anyone who understood me as a child would not imagine my writing this memoir. Without a doubt, I 'd have already been voted "least likely to become a naturist" if such a group existed in my third grade yearbook.
 http://abuelas.videosviejas.net/out.php?url=https://nudeace.com got to start with my mother, who was the polar opposite of hippie on the human spectrum of characters. She suffered from a really real case of OCD, and among her many obsessions was suitable appearance, and with how her family should dress. I occasionally felt like a doll. Short Pants were a rarity in our family, except for use at the playa, and sandals made you appear "low class." Going barefoot on anything but carpeting caused arthritis pain later in life. My closet was filled with buttondown Polos, as well as in bed, I had to appear like I was off to the queen's ball. Honestly, if I ever meet the man who devised long sleeve, button pajamas, I'll smack him. And for some reason my mother favored two sizes bigger than was crucial, therefore I appeared to be floating in a bag of clothes, like I was preparing for a wing suit dive. If the temperature hovered anywhere below 75 degrees, my outfit contained coat and jumper.
 http://forum.vestaclub.ru/go.php?https://nudeace.com of this helped my too scrawny to be 3-dimensional look, but my ego didn't matter. Worst of all, for the longest time, I was under the impression that shoes were designed to cause the maximum number of pain. Being of Greek ancestry, my parents were given to seeing the motherland in the summer, and of course, new shoes were needed for every darn excursion, so my mother could establish to my aunts and uncles how upper-class we were. Walking through JFK airport was absolute torture.
 But from kindergarten to eighth grade, my Baptist Christian school was much more rigorous. At all times we were required to wear light blue button tops, navy blue slacks and, wait because of it . . . TIES! Is there any piece of clothing more heinous than a tie? It's essentially a choking risk and it cuts off circulation to the brain. No Bible verse I Have found states, "Thou shalt wear ties on Wednesdays or when attending church." Our teachers adhered to the dress code with a Nazi-like zeal. Once, when my mom couldn't find my tie, I sat for hours in the principal's office, simply staring at walls, as my classmates learned section and when to use adverbs. God forbid I be permitted to learn anything that day sans my oxygen-depriving tie!
 A Youthful Nick Alimonos: Become a Naturist
 
 Chances are you might think I would have discovered to loathe garments, that I rebelled and became a nudist, right? No way! Despite my loose Polos and shoes made for Geishas and ties appropriate for auto-asphyxiation, I loathed focus considerably more. Clothed or otherwise, I was extremely shy, and introverted to the point that people in high school only presumed I was using drugs (never did), which is why I feared "physical education." The year was 1983 and this was private school, and it was still O.K. to hit kids' with wooden paddles and embarrass them through forced nudity. Our locker room did not have drapes or private little booths like you find at a water park. No, it was one large square, with lockers on one side and nozzles on another. There was nowhere to hide! Nowhere to be unobtrusive!
 Showering became such a difficulty for me that I hollered to my mom, until Trainer So and So announced to every third grade boy, "O.K. now, nobody make fun of Nick when he takes a shower." This, as anyone who went to elementary school can tell you, had the precise opposite effect. In a nutshell, there was no escape for me. Full Monty showering was as required as ties on Wednesdays. Oddly enough, no one had any difficulty exposing their dick but me. I eventually came up with ways around the system, like showering in my knickers, which gave me a damp wedgie for the day; or waiting until I was alone, which made me late to every class following P.E., and dripping wet in my now sticky button-down shirt.
 Heck, I didn't even look at myself, so bathing in my own bathroom became a absurd, obsessive-compulsive ritual. It began with telling my family, "O.K., I am taking a shower now! Anything you do, do not come in!" Subsequently barricading my sister's bedroom door (the room we shared), double checking that the door leading to the bathroom was also locked, and as if that was not enough, keeping a hand over my crotch at all times, which made soaping and using the shower head difficult.
 Me? Become a nudist? Never in a million years! But then, obviously, I became one. Find out why in Part 2 of the storyline, coming next week!
 Now take a look at Part 2: Boobs, Boobs Everywhere.
 My Naturist Story Part 1: Least Likely to Become a Nudist was printed by - Young Naturists and Young Naturists America FKK
 Labels: body shame, modesty
 Class: Nudist Website
 About the Author (Author Profile)
 By age six, I knew I was born to write, and by 12, found that clothing was unneeded. Please visit my site 'The Writer's Disorder' to learn more: http://writersdisease.blogspot.com/