My mother had invited us on an all-expense-paid beach vacation at a resort in France. There was just one problem. As I told my sons in our living room, “It’s a nude resort.”
“I’m out,” the younger one, then 12, said.
“No way,” said his 15-year-old brother.
Always putting our children’s welfare first, my husband added, “No boy should have to see his grandmother naked.”
My parents, former groovy college professors, had gone to this resort for years. It wasn’t hard to understand that skinny-dipping in those quiet waters made them feel free and young. But my father had died two years before and my mother, now a slim, attractive 71-year-old widow, wanted to relive her best times, with children and grandchildren in tow. Any daughter with a shred of decency would do this for her mother.
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