In the weeks leading up to our Desire trip, I agonized over the clothing optional aspect of it. I mean, in clothes, I look pretty great. But after three abdominal surgeries (including a c-section) and a 65-pound weight loss, well, things are far flabbier than I’d like.

So I bought a couple bikinis that are far smaller than anything I’d usually wear. Even got one of those “decent until wet” mesh bathing suits. But told myself that I would never, ever take my clothes off.

By the time we were getting ready to go to the pool our first morning there, I already knew nakedness was everywhere. And nobody seemed to make a big deal about it. Even so, I loaded the girls into my favorite push-up polka dot bikini top, stepped into a fairly modest red bottom, and threw on a standard, Midwestern mom cover up.

I was as ready as I would ever be.

As we trooped down to our assigned chairs, we had to thread our way through other couples getting ready for the day. On the grass, one totally naked pair took turns spraying each other with sunscreen. In the pool beds, people of all ages and all sizes stretched out, sans clothes, not a care in the world. And in the pool, there was not a top to be seen.

By the time I got to my chair, I felt overdressed. Five minutes later, I shyly shrugged my top off. Maybe some people looked. But they probably didn’t. At Desire, bodies are bodies, and no one is so rude as to stare.

By the second day, I had to remind myself to put a top on before I walked into the buffet. By the third, Bruce was totally nude.

I’ll be honest. I never went without a bottom (except on that very last night), but that was my choice. No one cared either way.

So, do you have to get naked? Nope-ity nope nope. But knowing you can if you want is more freeing than you can imagine.