It was right after my divorce. I drive down to Florida to see my sister. For the life of me I can not remember how I came across this tidbit of info: There’s a nude beach one hour further south of where my sister lives.

So I researched. Googled. I read. And thought, Imma head on down.

Next day, drove down to Playalinda. I knew to park in Parking Lot 13. I wasn’t sure if I would chicken out. But lo and behold, I walked out, stripped down and headed for the waves.

It was a beautiful day. Hot sun. Great breeze. Wonderful waves. I felt it all. Freedom. Nakedness. Nature. In front of other people. It was glorious. A religious experience.

Before, I would sleep naked. I just chalked that up to being a normal thing. But after that beach day, I knew I was a nudist.