Well, perhaps the “Ordinary Man” part is suspect [LOL!] I am seeing a subtle shift here, one that perhaps reflects the blog site’s title – A Canadian Naturist. I am a Canadian, at least as far as my birth certificate, passport, and heart remind me. My location and my feeling at home in so many places in the world make me question this whole thing about being a “nationalist” in a world that defies political boundaries. I am a Naturist, at least as far as my often being without clothing when I can get away with it, and my heart and body constantly inform me. But what about this Ordinary thing?
Before I talk about “me” as ordinary, I want to say something about how important it is for naturists and naturism to focus on the “ordinary.” If there is any hope for us to be able to bring naturism into our daily lives in the world without having to retreat into secluded and often gated areas [think of locking us in rather than others out], then we have to be and live what we hope, to live authentically. We do our cause and ourselves a huge disservice when we “glamorise” the nude body. We become our own worst enemy. Of course, being our own worst enemy is rather normal, just ask any psychologist, psychiatrist, psychoanalyst, or psychotherapist. I’d never have anybody come to my office if we didn’t self-sabotage.
With the intent to look forward, I’ll leave that aside and look at being authentic. Images are a good example. So many “naturists” or “nudists” or whatever, are all about the pictures. If you honestly consider the reality, the images “shared” are predominantly about young females who are presented in an attractive/inviting/smiling pose. Now reality [go to any venue where people are nude] the women are predominantly not young in age, nor part of an advertising program. As for male images, well we all have been inundated with “dick” picks, even old guys such as myself are sent these images. And when the “dick” has a face and a body, they are suitably cast with defined abs and more often than not, youth. Back at the real world venues, males are not escapees from body-building regimes or porn sets; they are for the most part, uninteresting as far as body allure goes. In the real world, the men and women are “ordinary.” And that is a good thing, the best thing.
My images of myself are “ordinary.” When it comes to body type I could never be accused of having defined abs, or muscular arms, or a penis of an envious size. At my age, simply having a body that still functions is a blessing.
We need the ordinary to be up front and centre. Only then can we build confidence in a society that has been pummelled for decades about being imperfect, unacceptably imperfect. The intention for this has been pure economics. Our money is the target – buy these clothes, buy these diet books, do this, do that, and whatever you do, don’t be happy with who you are. And of course, the goalposts keep moving just in case you somehow reach the targets that disappointingly didn’t let you enter into the magical paradise of perfection. We desperately need normal.