They wave. I wave. One of us is in clogs.
Let’s get one thing clear: I don’t live on a secluded hilltop. I’m not surrounded by hedges and high fences. I live in a place where people live. And those people—my neighbors—know I’m naked most of the time.
They’ve seen me.
Not accidentally. Not in some scandalous “oops” moment. Just… living. Tending the garden. Watering the plants. Carrying in groceries. Stretching in the morning sun.
They wave. I wave back. Sometimes I’m holding tomatoes. Sometimes I’m in cllogs. That’s about it.
And guess what?
The world didn’t end. No drama. No complaints.
Just a kind of unspoken, mutual understanding: he’s naked, he’s not weird, he’s just Marc.
From Silence to Smiles
When I first embraced naturism openly in my daily life, I wasn’t sure how people would react. Would they avoid me? Would they stare? Would someone say something?
At first, most said nothing. And that silence? That was a gift. No lectures. No judgment. Just… normal interactions, minus the textile expectations.
Then came the occasional smile. The light nod. The casual “hello” across the fence. And over time, conversations—some curious, some amused, some thoughtful. A few even turned reflective:
“Must be nice to feel so free all the time.”
“You know what? I wish I had the guts.”
Those are the moments that remind me: being visible doesn’t just normalize nudity—it opens doors to real talk.
Yes, There Were Funny Moments
Like the time I was trimming the hedge, naked, when a dog slipped under the fence and ran straight into my yard. Cue me chasing a beagle in nothing but a pair of gloves.
Or the morning I was walking in the garden, coffee in hand, when the post man entered the garden (after having ringed) to leave a parcel on the front door. He didn’t bat an eye. We both pretended it was the most ordinary thing in the world. Honestly, it probably was.
Living Nude in a Clothed Community
What I’ve learned is this: when you treat your nudity as natural, others tend to follow your lead.
It doesn’t mean everyone’s going to strip down or join you. But they might relax. They might stop seeing skin as scandal. They might even smile.
And more importantly, it teaches others—without saying a word—that body freedom doesn’t mean disrespect. That you can be naked and polite. That your skin doesn’t change your kindness.
Naturism has become part of my neighborhood ecosystem. The kids don’t point. The adults don’t flinch. The mailman? He knows exactly who he’s dealing with. Everyone just gets on with their lives. And so do I.
Naturism Is Personal, But Never Isolated
I may be nude alone—but I’m not alone in my nudity.
Every wave, every “morning!”, every neighbor who just keeps walking by without a second glance… that’s community. That’s quiet acceptance. That’s how normal happens.
Do your neighbors know you’re a naturist?
Have you had the talk? Or are you the friendly mystery behind the hedge?
Tell me your story. Let’s celebrate the little breakthroughs. The moments when skin and society coexist without drama.
Get Nude, Stay Nude, Live Nude and Share the Nude Love!
I take bathsun reading books, hearing music, in my terrace, nude and in front of another buliding to 50 mts. of distance. I never had any problem. I do this all the year, when the sun shines over my terrace.
I applaud you for your braveness! As said nowadays people are different, more accepting.
I paint pictures in oils. On a beautiful sunny day I had the paints and easel in the garden naked. I border on our village Bowls Club and suddenly a voice from the newly trimmed hedge came from a friend, a man in his eighties. My immediate reaction was to covewr up. When I saw him during the following week I told him I mwas a naturist and had been since 1977. Rather than being shocked, I admitted that when away on the south coast of England he and his wife occasionally visited Studland Bay, a beautiful nude beach and my nakedness did not bother him. We often discuss naturism since.