When I imagined myself traveling through Europe this fall, sitting on the side of a mountain butt-naked didn’t come to mind. But, it should’ve…because I did it. And I wouldn’t be mad if it was the best thing I’d ever do.

I spent this weekend in Mallorca, Spain where the beaches are rockier and the people are naked-er. Pack your hiking shoes, sunglasses, and tan lines, because they’re the only things that will stand between you and the island terrain.

This trip was not a sought-after nude beach experience. This was just a “normal” beach (I put normal in quotes because it looked like THAT Windows desktop background), but here going to the beach means stripping – panties and all. I started out timid and fully suited, then went topless, and suddenly after an hour my bottoms were drying on a sunny rock and a fish was kissing my bare ass.

I’ve always wanted to go to a nude beach but whenever I thought about the act of other people seeing THAT much of me, I squirmed. I thought my self-consciousness would ruin my experience and force me back into the comfort of my abandoned garments. In the U.S., going skinny dipping feels like an act of rebellion, and walking around in a bra and underwear is deeply intimate.

Here, though, no one gave a second glance. I didn’t think about how my body looked or the way it moved, I didn’t care if I was perfectly shaved from head to toe or if my nipples looked normal. I’d never felt more careless in my entire life, and careless and nudity are two words I never thought would exist in the same sentence. I honestly felt more beautiful than I ever had.

Even after descending the side of a mountain, it was the most relaxing beach day of ALL beach days because I literally let it all hang out. I smiled from the moment the sun shined where “the sun don’t shine” until I stepped off the bus back in the city, and, as dramatic as it sounds, I’m a changed person after this trip. I’ll never look at my body or the people around me in the same way again.

We walk around with so much hatred for our bodies and that desire to hide our entire physical presence is exhausting. Once I took everything off, my clothes suddenly felt unbearably heavy, like they were holding the weight of everything I had used them to cover before. It was like relieving myself from a job I didn’t know I had – one that was degrading, always wanting more from me.

Now, I’m not saying this single nude day solved all my body issues, but it was the first day in a long time that I didn’t think about appearance once. I used up all my energy to enjoy what I was doing and who I was doing it with; any self-hatred seemed to have slipped my mind. It was a beautiful day.

Here’s to being naked more! I’ll talk to you next week…maybe from my new room within a nudist commune.

Love,

Isabella

Photograph: Pinterest

Suns Out, Buns Out