Purenudism Nudist Foto Collection. Part 1 -

This body has carried a child, she reminded herself. This body has walked through fire and grief. This body is not an apology.

Later, at the communal picnic, she sat next to a man named Marcus, whose body was a constellation of keloid scars from a house fire when he was twelve. He passed her a bowl of potato salad and said, "First day?"

The brochure showed a sun-dappled meadow, a winding path to a lake, and people—ordinary people—splashing and walking. They had soft bellies, sagging breasts, wrinkled thighs, scars, and smiles. No airbrushing. No strategic poses. Just being . Purenudism Nudist Foto Collection. Part 1

On the drive back to the city, Elara stopped for gas. A billboard loomed overhead: The model’s stomach was airbrushed into a smooth, impossible curve.

Elara sat on a flat rock near the water's edge. The sun warmed her thighs. A breeze played across the back of her neck. She watched a woman with mastectomy scars dive cleanly into the lake, then surface with a shout of joy. She watched a heavyset man walk past, his back a roadmap of old acne scars, carrying a picnic basket. This body has carried a child, she reminded herself

She folded everything into a neat square, slung a towel over her shoulder—strictly for sitting, the rules said—and stepped out.

The idea was so terrifying it was almost hilarious. Elara laughed a dry, brittle laugh. "You want me to join a nudist colony?" Later, at the communal picnic, she sat next

Elara took a deep breath and walked to the women's changing area. It was a simple wooden bench in a private stall. She peeled off her jeans, her shapewear (oh, the irony), her bra, and her shirt. She stood in front of the full-length mirror. There it was: the soft, puckered C-section scar. The stretch marks like silver lightning on her hips. The belly that refused to flatten. The thighs that touched.