Clothing Optional: The Wrong Choice

“I’ve decided to wear my bikini bottoms after all,” Nikki reached into her locker.

“Oh, ok. Maybe I will too then.” I fumbled in my bag for my own bottoms, placed there just in case I chose the cowardly option in the clothing-optional Lady Well Spa. To my horror, I pulled out a stretchy black tank top. I most have packed it by mistake. “Oh, I guess I don’t have any, I’ll just have to go Full Monty.”

Way to go, idiot. I thought as I followed Nikki to the showers. But maybe this is just what I need to accept my body. I’ve beat myself up for too long for eating too much or grooming too little. My knee creaked and throbbed as I padded the cold tile floor. After my knee surgery, I should just be happy I can walk.

I chose the furthest spigot from her. She chatted casually about a recent rock climbing trip. I turned away. Nudity is one thing, but soaping up the groin is quite another. My face burned with shame, and I was suddenly the awkward high schooler again, so full of body-loathing I would wait until the other students left the locker room before I would shower after swimming class. I’d rather be late for calculus than be seen.

“Let’s go to the hot tub room first,” Nikki toweled off strode down the hall, a spa pro.

I fumbled to cover myself with the too-small towel. Is this a dish rag? I must have half a cheek hanging out!

“Ah” Nikki sighed into the steaming tub. “Are you going to come in?”

I hesitated. Be brave, Lauren. I whipped off the towel and stumbled in with toe-stubbing haste.

Crap, the bubbles are inadequate! You can see straight through! But we are alone for now, and Nikki doesn’t seem to care how I look. What is she saying now anyway?

I forced myself to chat, willed my muscles to relax. The warmth did feel good on my always-tense joints.

Then I heard the voices. A dozen giggling college-aged girls entered: all beautiful and all wearing bathing suits. Oh my god, they look like swimsuit models. And even they are wearing suits. If I looked like them, I’d be naked all the time!

I sank deeper into the hot tub and crossed my legs, cursing the clarity of the water. There were only two hot tubs and the girls piled in to the one next to ours, but it was crowded. A couple of girls came towards ours as if to scout it out, then they noticed our bare breasts, wrinkled their noses, and squeezed in to the other tub.

The heat and shame brought my speeding heart to my throat. Throughout high school I had a recurring nightmare where I forgot my bathing suit in swim class and was the only person naked in the pool. Every time I would be too ashamed to get out. I would drown.

“I’m getting overheated. Let’s go to the cold tub.”

“Ok!” I popped out of the tub and towel-swaddled myself in seconds.

Without grabbing her towel, Nikki went to the next pool and sat down.

“Ah, so refreshing.”

I could feel the eyes of the swimsuit models on me. I stood on the seat of the hot tub, towel wrapped around me. “It’s so cold, I think I’ll just stay here with the water up to my knees.”

“Suit yourself. Want to go to the sauna after this?”

“Sure, but isn’t it bad to go from cold to hot so fast?”

“It’s detoxifying.” Whatever that means.

We arrived in the “Himalayan Salt Sauna” next, with its crystal pink walls.

I lay down wrapped in my towel determined to keep it on. But after a minute I began to feel like an overstuffed spring roll, frying in a doughy wrapper. My blood must be about to boil! I threw the towel off.

The door opened with a gust of cool air and two of the young models came in. I put my legs together, wrapped my arms around my breasts, but this too became suffocating. Hot flesh could not touch any hot flesh, or sweat would immediately pour out, making it slippery and impossible to maintain position.

“Let’s go to the steam room, it smells like eucalyptus. You’ll love it.”

“Great!” Towel flapping, I scampered out.

Nikki threw her towel off on the bench and pulled the shower chain on the spigot outside the sauna. “You have to cool off first.”

“I think I’m fine.”

“Come on, you just need a quick rinse.” She laughed. “Then you can keep your towel on in the steam room.”

I grimaced and obeyed.

We opened the door to the steam room. A Rubenesque woman in her fifties, completely naked, looked at us as we entered. Her legs were wide open.

Embarrassed, I looked away and took a seat at the far end of the room.

The older lady sighed a deep breath of contentment. I noticed for the first time how delicious and minty the air was. I wished I could be like her, so comfortable in her own skin. Could I be so brave? I let the towel fall to my lap. Nobody cared or even noticed.

The door opened. The same two models came in. I fought the urge to cover myself and breathed deeply. I noticed as they sat down that they constantly held their stomachs tense, as though posing for a picture. Despite being beautiful, they were even less confident than me.

I felt sorry for them.

Addendum:

Just this past weekend, I hiked to the clothing-optional Goldmyer Hot Springs with friends. I wore a suit. Bravery ebbs and flows.