When I was a student in the United States, quickly mastered the art of changing clothes in the locker room. Were prevalent in stripping down keeping any article of clothing while in despiamos.
So, when I accidentally found myself in a nudist retreat at a spa in the Austrian Alps in winter amazing I started thinking about my body.
Me and a friend got the spa area, which we expected to see fluffy white towels, swimsuits and bodies of all shapes and sizes. But instead, everything that someone was using was nothing. I cringed a little shy
Looking around that sea of naked bodies I felt terribly ashamed. I have stretch marks on my hips result in a pregnancy. My left breast is slightly larger than my right breast. When was the last time I shaved my legs? Oh my God, that woman’s breasts from 50 years of age are bigger than mine. Does my faced cheek is like this? God no! At least I exercise. Well, I guess I’m skinnier than she is and so on.
My friend sighed, looked at me and said: “I think it’s considered rude if we don’t get our clothes.” Rude?! So, I refused, but after our first sauna, I began to understand the logic behind the policy of non-clothes. I was seriously overheated. With a deep inspiration (and a huge sigh!) I took off my top.
My breasts … and. .. There they were. I realized I had a time when it was easier to take off your shirt in front of a sexual partner, than having to show my breasts in public.
But instead of settling in the other, I decided to redirect my focus to what I felt so ashamed. Why was my first impulse to compare my body for everyone else? Why I was cataloguing every inch of cellulite that I saw? Why I was obsessed with how terrible I thought it looked?
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