"I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked, I am mad for it to be in contact with me." -Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass
I went to the lake that night with a group of women I barely
knew. They were the artists, the writers, the mid-wives, the free-thinking
liberals who were interesting and intelligent and who I’d always wanted to
become acquainted with. They were all different shapes, sizes and body-types,
every one of them dynamic in their own way. I was invited by my sister and
thrilled at the chance to be free in the lake, happy to share my experience
with these women.
I was a skinny-dipping virgin and incredibly self-conscious
about my body. Growing up, extreme modesty was expected by my
mother. No bare shoulders, skirts and shorts to the knee, no plunging
necklines. I was taught my body was sacred and had to be covered from the gaze
of licentious male eyes. While the intent came from a place of love and
concern, this expectation of modesty left me feeling afraid of my body. On top
of this, both sides of my family struggled with weight problems, and though I
had never been obese, I struggled with maintaining a healthy weight and size, covetous
of the thin bodies found on magazine covers, always lamenting my slightly
protruding stomach and the cellulite on my thighs.
All of these insecurities went out the window when, at the
mouth of the lake, under the bright moonlight, the women around me started to
strip, and I followed suit, all of us running into the lake. I was alive;
feeling the cool water against my body, cleansing me, my skin slippery and
soft. We swam for a while and caught glimpses of each other, but there was no
shame. When we got out, I marveled at the beauty of the female form, marveled
at the beauty of my water-sisters. None of them fit the mold of what the world considered ideal, but they were picturesque, each with their different shape, and most importantly, they were confident. They were unashamed. It was at this moment I learned to appreciate my
body in a way I never had before.
