Monday, October 23, 2006

Full Exposure Redux

At this same time last year, I wrote my most popular blog entry ever:
Party Naked

It chronicled the Mickey Mommas' trip to Cypress Cove Nudist Resort, a place that is exactly what its name implies. Residents, day guests, and even workers romp around in the buff (although the bartenders and restaurant employees are clothed, probably due to health regulations). And trust me, the majority of the naturists, as they are referred to, represent all body types, particularly the less-than-perfect. Just one look at all that sagging flesh boosts my self esteem 20-fold.

Since it was such an exciting trip last year, we decided on a repeat performance this fall. Now, mind you, the Mommas don't get naked. We visit during the yearly Naked Art Festival, when repressed members of the general public are welcomed into the Garden of Eden. On that day, we can noodle among the nudists safely, without having to bare our own souls (and everything else).

No trip to Cypress Cove is complete without a few rounds of margaritas or other alcholically-enhanced beverages. Considering just how scary some of those bodies look through "tequila goggles," I can't even imagine what I would think if I visited while stone sober.

We stopped at Chili's for old time's sake, since that is where we had started last year's field trip, too. After lunch and 2 for 1 margaritas and electric lemonade, we piled into the van for the trip to Poinciana, home to Cypress Cove. It's not all that far from Disney World (maybe 20 minutes), which might shock some of the straightlaced tourists who flock to Orlando each year for what they consider to be wholesome family entertainment. While nudist resorts are touted as "family friendly," bopping around in the buff usually doesn't pop into mind when Mr. and Mrs. Middle America chose their vacation destination.

But I can't help but suspect that Walt was open-minded about nudity. After all, Mickey, Minnie, and Goofy are all fully clothed, but Donald flaunts his feathery body with a top but no pants. Also, he sports that essential nudist wear item: a hat. The vast majority of nudists sport head gear, which may sound odd until you realize that they need a place to store their valuables. Take a close look at their chapeaus and you will notice that they all have a handy-dandy pocket.

Two of us in our little group had made the trip last year; the other two were Nudity Virgins. I could tell they had no idea what to expect; after all, I had been in the same position last year. Cypress Cove is surrounded by a solid fence so the curious can't gawk at will. You must pass a manned entrance before you are granted admission to the Promised Land of No Tan Lines. You can't see a thing before you head through the gate, so of course your imagination runs wild. Will there really be naked people? Will they be completely nude? Sure they won't just be parading around...will they? Those are the questioning that dance through the minds of the uninitiated.

Once you roll onto the resort grounds, those questions are quickly (and graphically) answered. Yes, they are naked, and yes, they are parading around everywhere. You feel like your eyes are popping out like some insane cartoon character as non-chalant naturists pedal by on bicycles, zip along in golf carts, sprint around on the tennis court, or just putz around in front of their campers.

One thing you quickly realize is that reality is nothing like the titillating images that the words "Nudist Resort" usually conjure up. There's nudity everywhere, but it's not "dirty" or even particularly explicit. Yes, you do see everything, but when you're virtually surrounded by it, it quickly becomes old hat. It reminds me of the book Split Infinity, by Piers Anthony. It's a sci fi/fantasy book about a world in which "serfs" (the working class) serve ultra-rich "citizens" on the planet Proton. The cities are all located in climate controlled domes, and by law serfs must all be naked at all times (citizens have the option of wearing clothing if they wish). Rather than nudity being arousing, the biggest turn-on for the serfs is wearing forbidden apparel. When everything is all hanging out all the time, leaving something to the imagination becomes the more arousing option.

Another thing that stands out is that nudists have impeccable coiffures...and I'm not talking about the hair on their heads. I wouldn't feel at all self conscious about baring my flesh at Cypress Cove, given what there is to compare it to, but I would be quite ashamed of my...uh, shall we say "untended garden." Laser hair removal technicians must make a fortunate from naturist clients.

We parked our vehicle and headed to the lakefront where the artists were touting their wares. But it was hard to pay attention to the artwork when we were surrounded by so many of God's masterpieces (well, okay, maybe not masterpieces, but they were certainly as He had made them!). I found the nudists who wore clothes to be much more interesting than those who were totally in the buff. There were two women in wrap arounds with no underwear, and their skirts were slit all the way up to their navels. Thus, the fabric flapped open continually, exposed everything in wind-whipped "winks." Why not just leave off the clothes altogether? Perhaps they had some deep-seated exhibitionist fantasies.

Then there was a woman wearing one of those gauzy little see-through skirts that people often wear over a swimsuit. But of course she had no swimwear on underneath it! So what's the purpose, when you can see right through the material? In my view, it might as well be all or nothing. If you're going to bare your flesh, bare it all.

But the most interesting sight had to be the woman with pierced lips...and no, I don't mean the ones on her face. Not that I'm a prude, but I'd never, ever do it because it had to hurt like hell! Some things were not meant to have metal driven through them, and my private tender regions definitely fall into that category. I have to give her credit...her pain threshhold is obviously through the roof.

After gaping at the art (and other things), we headed off to Cheeks Bar for a drink (their motto: Rest your cheeks on ours). Three of us plopped down around a table, but the fourth Momma refused to touch her tender bottom on the same plastic chair where a bare butt might have rested before her. We reminded her that proper naturist etiquette requires that a towel be carried around at all times; it serves the same purpose as a toilet seat covers whenever one wishes to sit...not on the toilet, but anywhere. Thus, it was highly unlikely that the chair was contaminated in any way. But she just couldn't bring herself to risk it, so she remained standing while the rest of us took our chances.

Ironically, the chairs at Cheeks were the exact same type of white plastic cheapies that had traumatized my horse, Figment, so badly on Friday (see my previous blog entry). My traumatized friend pointed out that Figgie was probably quite smart to avoid them, as the chairs could well have been on loan from Cypress Cove.

(On a side note, for those who read my blog entry about the upcoming Lake Louisa Trail Challenge, Figment and I had to bow out. On the morning of the competition, he developed colic so he was out of commission. So much for all my preparation! Happily, he is fine now, and we're hoping to try again in the spring.)

We savored both our drinks and the sights around us (there was one hard-bodied man who was very well-endowed and who seemed quite willing to flaunt it), but finally we realized that we'd had enough fun for one day. After a quick trip to the gift shop to stock up on Cypress Cove logo merchandise (put a couple items around your house and watch your guests' eyes widen), we were on our way.

Now, as I sit here recouting our experience, I can't help but feel sorry for the guests at Cypress Cove. Tonight the temperature is supposed to flirt down around the freezing mark, and it will be plenty chilly tomorrow. I don't think there will be a lot of flesh showing, and if there is, it will have a marked bluish tinge. In the winter, do nudists dress up, or do they simply slip on jackets and coats over their bare flesh? I might have to take another trip out to Poinciana just to find out!

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