"Don’t cook bacon naked!”
It’s among the most tired (and tiresome) cliches about nudism. Non-nudists apparently think it’s hilarious - it's often the first thing they say in response to learning someone enjoys being nude. Actual nudists mostly think it’s obvious. But it does raise an interesting question: if you’re a nudist, do you cook nude?
I do. I was a cook long before I was a nudist. I worked as a line cook in my father’s restaurant for four years in university. After it closed, I continued working in kitchens until I found my first job.
Now, cooking at home is very different from cooking in a professional kitchen. You’re cooking less food and the intensity is much lower; there are far fewer dangers to cooking nude at home. (I would never cook naked in a professional kitchen like the ones I used to work in - I received enough cuts and burns as it was!)
At home, though, why not cook nude?
Well, there are some of the reasons you may want to cover up in the kitchen.
First, grease spatter is a real danger. Your belly and thighs are more sensitive to heat than your arms and hands. Even the tops of your bare feet might feel more pain than you expect if a flying gob of heat happens to land on them.
Boiling pots and hot ovens can also give off more heat than you expect. It's most likely you'll feel that heat on your face more than your body, and no one worries about covering their face when cooking. But you do want to take care that an errant blast of steam doesn't burn your exposed skin.
Cooking often requires extreme temperatures, whirling blades. The more experienced you are in the kitchen, the more gadgets and tools - many with sharp parts - you'll accumulate.
But think about how often you catch your shirt or pants on something sharp when you're cooking with clothes on. It's pretty rare, isn't it? Just because your skin is exposed, you're not in a great deal of additional danger.
Cooking nude does have a major advantage: you can't stain your body. A splash of olive oil or a mishandled blackberry might ruin a light-colored top, but if you're naked it wipes up without any problem at all.
If you really are worried about something going awry, though, an apron is always a valid choice. As in any other situation, if a covering is warranted, then by all means wear it. This isn’t a contest to be as nude as possible. It’s more important that you’re comfortable - and safe.
One of my favourite things to cook is hand-made pasta. I love spending an hour or two making an army of orecchiette at my kitchen table. Other time-consuming kitchen tasks, like chopping vegetables and portioning raw meat, put me into an almost zen-like state as I do them.
This is the bulk of the work you'll do in the kitchen, and there is no risk and no danger in doing them naked. In fact, I find that the extra freedom - my body's freedom to move, and my unbound mental state as well - makes the cooking experience that much more enjoyable.
When Jamie Oliver started his naked chef cooking show some years ago, he used to stress that it was the food that was naked. Plain, simple, honest cooking was what he was all about, and audiences definitely responded to his approach.
But my feeling is, if the food benefits from this stripped-down approach, won't the cook benefit from the same bare approach? I know that my feeling of satisfaction and peace from cooking and eating good food nude is always greater than it is when clothed.
As our world continues to modernize, digitize, and mechanize, nude food has more benefits than ever.
Many are concerned with the modern food system, especially in North America. Highly processed foods make up more and more of the general public’s diet. As consumers - both in the economic sense and as eaters - we are moving further and further away from the reality of food. Where and how it’s grown, harvested,
and delivered to us has become completely divorced from our cooking and eating.
For me, cooking nude is a way to re-establish that very human connection with the food I eat. Just as I feel more connected and present in nature when I’m nude, I feel like cooking nude helps me connect to what I’m doing and why I’m doing it.
(...Oh, and one more thing. Cook your bacon in the oven. Lay the strips of bacon in a single layer on a baking sheet, preferably on a piece of baking parchment, and cook it at 350 degrees for about 20 minutes - a few minutes more or less depending how crispy you like it. Perfectly nude-safe!)
Do you cook? What kinds of foods do you like to cook the most? Have you ever tried cooking nude? Let me know in the comments!
Winter is, as they say, coming.
For many nudists, that means earlier nightfall and a break from the stultifying heat of summer sunshine. Residents of the many nudist resorts and communities in Florida, California, Texas, Spain, and other warm areas might be looking forward to a bit of temperate weather.
As a Canadian nudist, though, the rapidly advancing autumn chill brings with it dread for the coming ice and snow. (It's also a time for lamenting the missed opportunities to be nude in the past summer.)
So what are we snowbound Canucks, iced-in Minnesotans, and frozen New York nudists to do? Is the only strategy to light a fire, turn up the heat, and hibernate until the last frost melts?
Luckily, no. Here are some tips to being a winter nudist.
The thing nudists tend to miss most when they're clothed is the feeling of freedom that being nude can bring us. But clothes aren't the only covering you can take advantage of.
You'll tend to be coldest when you're sitting still - working on your laptop or lounging in front of the TV, for example. If your house is cold or drafty, this is when you'll feel it the most. And when this happens, a blanket is your first line of defence. Being nude under a blanket is nude and comfy, and you don't have the restrictions that clothing usually makes you feel.
If you're moving around so much that a blanket is impractical, invest in a quality terrycloth or chenille robe. You can wrap it close around you when you feel chilly and wear it loose and open when you're warming up.
Robe or not, keeping yourself moving is the best way to keep yourself warm. While you're cooking [link to cooking blog post], doing laundry, and other household chores are active enough that even if you're wearing a robe, you'll probably want to shuck it off before too long. (Moving around is good for you, too - check out Amanda Sterczyk's books [link] for more about why you should stay in motion anyway.)
While you're sitting still, you can also keep the cold at bay with a nice warm drink. A herbal tea is a perfect sipper any time of day, but a delicious hot toddy can also be a lovely treat for a chilly night.
One school of thought for some naturists is that being bottomless is the best approach for nudists in cold weather. The thinking behind this is that the need to cover one's genitals is the primary difference between larger society and we nudists. If we are going to cover up, staying bare below the waist asserts that we are still nudists.
I understand the philosophy behind this but I'm not sure it matters. I also find that wearing only, say, a sweatshirt is more effective for keeping me warm than wearing only sweat pants. And it definitely feels more nude, which is when I feel best, too.
In the end, the question is what is best for you. No one should be uncomfortable for the sake of being a nudist, so if you need to dress for the weather, then do so. (As many naturists point out, We're nudists, not idiots.
It would be nice if we lived somewhere the temperature never dipped below the freezing mark. For many of us, there's no other option: winter is a fact of life. It's expensive (and environmentally irresponsible) to crank the heat in the house. Being a nudist in winter just isn't an easy prospect.
But if nudism is an important part of your life, you're going to want to practice it even when the mercury falls out of sight. I hope some of the tips here give you some new strategies for staying nude whatever the weather.
What have you done in the past to stay nude and warm in the winter? Tell me in the comments!
Halloween is coming! For those who like to dress up, it’s a fun time to put on some crazy costumes. During this holiday, nudists are sometimes depicted in rather funny ways; some people wear strategically positioned cardboard with pixellated “flesh” on it to cover up what would otherwise be nude flesh. And a shirt with “nudist on strike” is not uncommon (which makes you wonder how much they thought that one through…)
But it’s a bit difficult for nudists, who, well, don’t really like to dress up. What can a nudist do for Halloween? Here are some options.
One of the most common costume choices for nudists is body paint. It’s fun and eye-catching, it comes in every possible size, and it lets the wearer be both covered up and revealed at the same time. Animal colourings and superhero costumes are very common, for example.
The wonderful thing about body paint is that it works as a costume even if it isn’t anything in particular. Paint on some flowers, or a geometric pattern, or even a set of clothes. Don’t worry about how accurate it is - a bit of colour goes a long way!
Some nudists take the approach that a few significant features get the idea of the costume across; it doesn’t matter that the rest is just a nude person. A leather vest and a cowboy hat makes you an old west sheriff, for example. A cap and a Louisville Slugger; gossamer wings and a wand; there are endless minimalist costumes. If you wore them to any other venue, you’d be a nude baseball player or a nude fairy; when you’re among nudists, though, the nudity is unremarkable, and the costumes are fine.
Despite the negative view that many have towards nudism in mainstream society, there are actually a few possibilities in popular culture that you could consider using as a costume. There’s the reality show Naked and Afraid, for example. They blur out the actual nudity, of course, but you can hold a walking stick and a roughly-constructed canvas bag and get the general idea across.
You can look to myth for other possibilities too: Lady Godiva and many Greek gods are commonly depicted nude. Mermaids are at least partially nude - the parts that aren’t covered in fish scales, anyhow. Usually it only takes a few small markers to indicate what character you represent; the nudity takes the costume the rest of the way.
There really isn’t much to a nudist Halloween costume. In the end, you’re just trying to be someone you’re not, while still being who you are. Like almost everything else about nudism, it’s far more simple than it seems… it just takes a bit of imagination and a sense of fun. Enjoy your nude Halloween party!
Have you ever been to a nudist Halloween party? What was your costume? If you had a party coming up this month, what would you be?
I've said it before and I'll say it again: journalism about nudism is, in general, terrible.
News sites know that nudity is compelling. It invites clicks, whether because people are generally interested in possibly getting a glimpse of skin, or because they're outraged and want to vent their disgust.
But for some reason, news sites often add a stupid, childish slant to the content as well. Puns about body parts are common (how often do you see the word "abreast" or "cheeky" in other news articles?) as well as wordplay about nudity with terms like "exposure" and "bare".
More problematic are the narratives that these articles play into. The general public tends to think nudity is inherently weird or silly; the extension of that idea is that nudists are weird, ridiculous people (and thus not deserving of journalistic objectivity or respect). And of course the association of nudity with sex means that nudists are secretly perverts and exhibitionists.
All nonsense, of course, but you'd be hard pressed to find an article about nudists that doesn't take at least some of these tired, cliched jokes and mistruths and stick them in. Sometimes it’s just an editor adding a stupid title, and sometimes the journalist peppers idiotic jokes throughout the piece.
And that’s why I created the Nudism Journalism Bingo Card - so that you can see just how enthusiastically an article on a nudist topic embraces these features!
Okay, we’re not seriously playing bingo here. But it is rare for an article about nudists not to check at least a few of these squares off.
As I’ve said before, journalism about nudism is terrible. Let’s keep up the pressure on newspapers and news sites to cover nudity fairly, ethically, and positively.
What squares did I miss on my bingo card? Are there any cliches that drive you especially crazy when journalists write about nudism? Tell me in the comments - I might even update my bingo card with your suggestions!
Earlier this month I had a great conversation with Chef Martin, host of the ToTheNudeLife podcast. It's available here if you want to give it a listen.
I've appeared on two naturist podcasts to date, and they were both great experiences. The real shame is that there are very few naturist podcasts out there! That might be, of course, because the ones that exist already are all high quality and get a lot of positive attention. Here are the naturist podcasts I listen to:
The granddaddy of all the naturist podcasts out there, Stéphane has been publishing episodes regularly for over a decade. He's the owner of Bare Oaks and covers a breathtaking array of different topics in naturism. He's also a personal inspiration for me, and a great person to talk to about naturist topics.
Two women, Jenny Eells and Kat Harbourne, do their regular podcast on BBC Radio Sheffield naked. They aren't nudists, but they recognize the difference that non-sexual nudity can make in how we relate to other people. Women's issues are given appropriate attention on their podcast but they have a lot of great guests and topics.
Martin is a full-time naturist (when he's not deployed overseas, of course) and is a true enthusiast for the nude life. He's also a chef and has had a lot of unique life experiences. His podcast is casual and comfortable, but based on a strong understanding of nudist ethics.
A podcast that is the brainchild of a new but highly successful nudist organization based in New York City. Host Adam Schweitert delves deep into the nudist lifestyle and the many emotional, social, and ethical questions that surround it. (I'm interviewed in episode 5 - one of my best interviews ever!)
A newer and more casual podcast, but one with a unique perspective from a transgender person of colour. A wide range of topics are discussed, but most importantly issues of race and naturism - something that doesn't get discussed enough.
Have I missed anyone? Tell me your favourite naturist and nudist podcasts in the comments - and link to a specific episode you liked, too!
My first trip to a nude beach was relaxing, inspiring, exciting — everything. But I couldn’t just sit on the sand all day and read, I soon realized. I wanted to see the whole beach.
And really, it was more than that: I wanted to be out there. It wasn’t enough to just be nude, to sit passively and let the day pass me by. I needed to assert myself, my newly nude body.
There was also another factor: sandflies. Some relief from the tickling bugs on my legs and back for a little while would be welcome, too.
So I packed up my stuff — I had no idea if anyone would steal anything, but I figured it was less risky to carry my stuff with me. I probably shouldn’t have worried, because the park is a pretty safe place. But the thought of having my clothes stolen was too terrifying, so I draped my towel over one shoulder, slung my bag over the other, and went for a walk.
I could see in the distance, about two kilometres away, where the beach ended, tall cliffs blocked the way, jutting out into the edge of the lake. I would walk to the end, I decided, and then back.
The water was cool on my feet as I walked at its very edge. Even in July, Lake Erie never gets truly warm, and the slight shock of the cold on my skin was another reminder that I was nude, that this was real, that I was doing this.
And as I reached the water and began to walk, I saw someone else: a woman, walking straight down to the water from where she and her male companion were sitting.
If I wasn’t mistaken, we would reach the same part of the shore at the exact same time.
I slowed down, trying to stave off the collision, but like a slow-motion car crash, it soon seemed inevitable.
As she reached the water, only a few feet in front of me, she stopped.
Turned.
Smiled.
And waited for me.
I had been around nude women before, but only my girlfriends and my wife; the context was almost exclusively sexual. Nude women I didn’t know were purely the inhabitants of pornography. This was it: I was going to talk to a nude woman. Her, nude. Me, nude. Us, nude.
You may not know that any interaction with a Canadian must, without exception, include a short discussion of the weather. Nudists are, apparently, not immune to this phenomenon.
“Lovely day, isn’t it?” she said as I approached.
“Glorious,” I said. “I can’t believe it.”
She said something else, I can’t remember what, I don’t know if I listened at the time. All the blood in my body was rushing to my head and making me dizzy.
Wait — not quite all the blood.
I was scared and excited and unnerved and in a very strange situation. I was not looking at the woman’s body but I was very, very conscious of her nudity, and mine.
I was starting to get an erection.
“It’s my first time here,” I told her.
“You couldn’t have picked a better day for a first visit!” she said, all friendly enthusiasm.
It wasn’t getting out of hand — I wasn’t about to poke her with it or anything — but I was more and more conscious of my growing penis, and the more I thought about it the more excited it, or I, got, and the more excited it got the more I thought about it —
“Do you guys come here a lot?” I asked. I wanted to acknowledge that she was with someone else; I wasn’t going to hit on her or say anything creepy.
“A few times a year,” she said. “It’s not too crowded today.”
My towel.
Easy.
I shifted my weight to my other foot, and took the opportunity to shift the strap of my bag a little. And with that movement, I was able to shift the towel as well. It didn’t really cover me up, but it was enough to keep things from being too obvious.
“Water’s going to be cold,” she said, “but I can’t resist swimming when I’m here…”
“I’m going to walk along the beach,” I said. “Since I’ve never been here before.”
“Have a great day,” she said, with a final friendly smile.
I was off. The erection — or partial erection — was now gone, and I was able to saunter off along the beach without any further worries.
I survived my first nudist social interaction, despite some discomfort and nearly-avoided rudeness. I had my first nude conversation. My first time being friendly and nude.
I was really a nudist, now, I decided.
And I loved it.
Do you remember the first time you interacted with a stranger in a nudist venue? What was it like? Add your experiences in the comments!
Becoming a nudist is easy. If you take your clothes off until you’re nude, and like it, and do that somewhere others often don’t, you’re probably a nudist.
That doesn’t mean taking your clothes off around those who don’t take theirs off, and don’t want to see you nude — that’s being an exhibitionist. It doesn’t mean being nude every day, all day — that’s just impractical.
Nudism is a simple preference for one’s own nudity — no more and no less. There is no qualifying amount you must be nude, no particular community you need to be a part of. Nudism isn’t a club. It’s a way of being.
Many people who are new to nudism say things like “I want to be a nudist but I don’t know where to start.” For these people, there seems to be some bar in front of them, some hurdle they need to clear, before they can call themselves nudists.
But the bar is much lower than they think. Want to be a nudist? Take your clothes off. Do you like it? Congratulations! You’re a nudist now.
Part of the problem is when other nudists try to act as gatekeepers. Some seasoned nudists—not all of them, but some of them (and any is too many)— seem to think that if you haven’t been nude in some particular context, like in a public clothing-optional place, or at a nudist venue or organized activity, you’re not a “real” nudist.
While many nudists find social nudism enjoyable, there is no bar you have to get over, no qualification you need to achieve, to identify as a nudist. And gatekeeping about what makes someone a “real” nudist is exclusionary and unnecessary.
So don’t worry about whether you’re a “real” nudist or not. Be nude your own way.
What kind of nudist are you? Or do you consider yourself any “kind” of nudist? Tell me in the comments!
There was a photo of me from 1977, at just under four years old. My brother’s birthday in April that year fell in the midst of a heatwave. We played outside in a tiny plastic pool, my brother and cousins and some kids from the neighbourhood.
I actually remember the day surprisingly well. I went inside and my mother removed my wet bathing suit. Then I insisted on helping bring a tray of cups out.
The photo shows me, nude and smiling, standing at the back door with my tray.
My mother always referred to that photo as “The Dumb-waiter”.
That was my parents’ attitude towards nudity and sexuality all my life: if you couldn’t pretend it didn’t exist, mock and ridicule it. Not in a mean way — they weren’t mean or nasty people — but you knew, as a kid, that nudity wasn’t okay.
But something stayed with me: as I got older, I realized that I got a charge out of being naked. I couldn’t discuss it with anyone; I couldn’t even acknowledge it. But I remember claiming I was sick one day when I was about thirteen, and after everyone had left the house, I showered… and then remained nude for an entire glorious day.
That day remains burned in my mind. But I also knew that nudity was wrong, unacceptable, possibly even sinful. So I hid it, deep down. My teenage years were full of shame and fear, as many teenagers’ are; I learned to associate nudity with sex; and without parental guidance of any kind, I made the unconscious decision to quash my propensity for nudity.
That’s not to say it didn’t bubble up from time to time. In the swimming pool change room, I would linger naked, while at the same time burning with shame; I would sometimes sleep naked, although I kept pajamas nearby in case someone came in unexpectedly.
I worked at a library for a couple of years. I remember distinctly seeing a feature article in a magazine about a nudist resort not far from me; it even had a couple of photos of nude women, including one of an older woman playing badminton — with breasts exposed. Of course as a fifteen-year-old boy, the picture of breasts grabbed my attention pretty easily. But the thought of people being nude and playing badminton was not only titillating, it was intriguing. People really did that? Just outside the city where I lived?
But again, I suppressed it. I had never seen a nude woman in real life; there was no internet, and pornography was difficult to find.
But my fascination with nudity stayed. The idea of going to a nude beach still lingered in the back of my mind. And then one day, by chance — sort of, I was probably surfing for porn — I came across a real nudist site.
That got me thinking. There were still nudist resorts in my area, weren’t they? There were probably other nudists, too. I could even… try it out.
I joined some message boards, read everything the nudists out there had to say. Asked about the places in my area. And waited for the opportunity.
I waited for about two years before I was ready. Then on a beautiful July Saturday, I drove an hour to a nude beach on the shore of Lake Erie. I followed the directions I printed out from online: drive to the provincial park and pay for parking; go to lot number five, furthest from the gate. Walk out to the beach, turn right, and follow it until you reach the end of the park.
I got to the markers, about five minutes’ stroll from the lot. I could see people in the distance, but no one was close enough to see clearly. Were they nude? Was it real?
And what was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to take my clothes off here, or should I wait until I found a place to lay out my towel and sit? No, surely not. There weren’t that many people on the beach. I could find a spot first.
But I passed a couple of knots of other beachgoers, and started feeling out of place. I was only glancing out of the corner of my eye, not wanting to stare, and they were nude. Most of them were nestled up in the driftwood and bushes near the top of the beach, but there’s something about nude bodies. You can just tell.
So I stopped at a large, sun-bleached log and put my bag down. My breath was shorter and shorter, my head spinning with what I was about to do.
I undid my shorts.
Pulled them down, stepped out of them.
It was like slipping into a bath, the warm breeze from the lake enveloping me, touching skin that had not felt sunlight in many, many years. In seconds my shirt followed.
And I was nude.
I walked to a clear spot, put my towel out, lay down, and felt the sun fall on me.
I was a nudist now, and would never again be anything else.
