I've had something of a mental breakdown over the past two months. Nothing requiring hospitalization, or anything, but...well, I'd find myself crying for no reason I could discern fairly often. I was hypersensitive to words and actions (at times it felt like thoughts) of people around me: any slight real or imagined caused me to descend into a funk that could last a day--whereas any positive interaction would send my mood soaring beyond the limits of the rational. Happy medium, indeed. I still have bad hours here and there, and yesterday was an awful day...but overall I seem to be levelling out.
Thank you readers, friends and loves, for sticking by me through what probably seemed rather distasteful. I appreciate it more than you can know. My boat may rock a while yet, but I sense the worst is over.
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Note: I am not writing this blog stark naked.
Disclaimer: I am not a practicing nuturist. In my life, I have indeed spent some time outside sans clothing...well out of view of any Mrs. Grundies with an insatiable interest in my genitalia. I have skinny-dipped (well, more like chunky-dunked); I have sat nude on a deserted beach (not recommended: sand is sandy) and I have even done things outside that deserve a curtain of privacy. Nowadays, though? Given the UV ratings tend to top out around "nuclear meltdown" lately, you pretty much have to have actual brass balls to sunbathe naked. But hey! if you do not need a pocket and you wanna just defrock it, strip 'n' rip, I say.
Dennis Roszell doesn't say. Dennis Roszell says you're a terrorist. Because, you know, nudity kills. Those children in Gaza? It's a good thing for them the IDF hasn't decided to doff their clothes and bring out the heavy ammunition. And maybe the Palestinians ought to look at firing a different sort of rocket, the casualty rate might go up.
Incidentally, don't you think the world would be a better place if we could magic away all weapons and soldier uniforms? You wanna fight all together? You gotta do it in the altogether.
What could make someone so disgusted with the human body? Even the Christians say it was made in the image and likeness of God. For the love of whatever you consider sacred, it's just skin. We've all got it, every last one of us. Does it have to be out there where you can see it? No, it doesn't. But if you happen to see skin, it shouldn't provoke any kind of visceral reaction in you, either. Naked people, no big deal.
Except we get the oh-so-predictable real reason for the moral outrage buried deep in the cleavage of the of the story:
He said the beach has also become a meeting place for people seeking sexual encounters and there are ads posted online by people looking to hook up.
I wonder how he knows this. Do these ads get routed to his inbox, somehow? If not, you kind of have to figure he goes looking for them. Naughty, naughty.
Roszell doesn't say if he's seen any actual sexual activity. I rather doubt he has: naturism is not about sex and official clothing optional beaches have very strict rules against it. That said, Three Mile Beach is not an official nude beach. There are only two of those in Canada, one in Vancouver and one in Toronto...although naturists are accepted in many more places, as shown, and it looks as if only in the most exceptional circumstances will you face prosecution for bein' all nekkid and bare. It is possible some people had sex on the beach. They won't make that mistake again: as I believe I may have mentioned, sand is sandy.
In any event, I find it highly unlikely Roszell is having his eyes seared out by widespread (so to speak) fornication. And if he does see a flash of nudity, or heaven forfend, a beast with two backs cavorting around, the prudent prudish thing to do would be not to stare at it. If you don't like it, don't look at it. And if you're worried that it might corrupt your children...trust me, they've fooled around naked already. Sorry, I know you don't want to think about that, but that doesn't make it any less true.
I once attended a clothing-optional sunrise wedding.
It was, as you'd probably imagine, a smallish affair. It was also possibly the most moving wedding ceremony I've ever seen. (If you're wondering, guests could be naked if they chose; a few among the dozen or so of us did so choose.)
The bride and groom were fully clothed for the processional. The vows alternated between bride and groom, and as each was spoken, the speaker removed one item of the listener's clothing until both stood naked facing each other. It sounds like a burlesque striptease. It was anything but: I found it solemn and dignified and extremely meaningful. Most of those assembled were in tears by the end of the thing just from the sheer power of the words and actions. Pertinent to Mr. Roszell: there was nary a snicker or a snort, let alone an outraged scream or a stampede of people ducking and covering away from the "terrorists".
There is nothing wrong, let alone sinful, about people's bodies. My next post will be about how there's nothing wrong with yours.
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