| Dear Family and Friends, You know, being naked is an interesting affair. Now, quite honestly, I really don�t mind being naked, the freedom it brings can even be somewhat enjoyable, when NOONE ELSE is present. I cry when I go to the doctor and have to remove any part of my clothing, you can�t expect me to rejoice when it comes to nudist colonies, locker rooms, or public baths. �Now, Chantel, it�s time for your rabies shot. Please lift the arm of your shirt so that I can give you the shot in your shoulder!� �Whaaaaa! I want my MOMMY!!!� Sometimes, it seems, life would be easier with no modesty whatsoever, but I�ve got it and now I am forced to deal with the challenge of stripping in front of any man, woman, or goat for the rest of my life. Every time, I break out into a profuse sweat, hyperventilate my lungs raw, and strain the blood vessels in my eyes until they burst into thick pools of blood. I�m telling you, you either enjoy stripping in front of others or you don�t, there is no happy medium! So, needless to say, I grew quite nervous when Chris and Marisa said that they wanted to go to a Turkish bath in Istanbul before our night train home. I didn�t want to miss out on what I was sure would be a good experience that they would share without me, but I was still terrified. I looked at the brochure with wide eyes, questioning my next move. �Will I have to get naked?� I asked my friends. �What will they do to me? What are they doing to that guy there? Should I go?� �I don�t know . . . I don�t know . . . I don�t KNOW . . .� So, I had to risk the unknown, rather than miss out and have a miserable train trip home. I gathered up my supplies, including my extra-large bath towel, which would be sure to cover me from head to foot, and we headed out. After all, life is about facing our greatest fears, right?! Once at the bath, I discretely managed to undress and veil myself in my extra-large towel, satisfied that I was completely covered and Marisa eased into the thin Bath-issued towel with grace. Then, it was off to the �steam room,� the scene of the night�s events. Upon entering the steam room, we were suddenly immersed into an Eden of naked women of all shapes and sizes. If there were a club for women who love to be naked, this would have to be it. My first thought was, �Oh no! They�re going to suck me in! They are going to make me one of them!� Naked women lolled about on a huge steam table, chatting casually as if nothing were out of the ordinary, while others partook in the bathing ritual or pampered themselves at the many Romanesque sinks scattered throughout the room. �What have I gotten myself into?!� I pondered as I followed Marisa like a lost puppy. We approached one of the sinks and I immediately realized that my extra-large circus tent (a.k.a. my towel) was definitely NOT going to work. So, I discretely covered myself with the Bath-issued towel, and began the process my wetting myself from head to foot, with the towel remaining intact to my body every step of the way. Once Marisa and I made our way to the steam table and Marisa joined the ranks of the many other naked women, I knew I was done for. �I can do this!� I encouraged myself. �Nobody here cares if I�m naked, they�re all naked too! Just do it! Just strip for the WORLD to see, you modest freak!� Marisa and I chatted with the naked women around us as I pinched my eyes shut, bit a hole in my bottom lip, and removed my towel. I waited for the horrified gasps, the thundering race to the nearest exit, the blood-curling shrieks . . . but--you know what?--nobody cared. I joined the Eden of immodest naked women and I was able to lie there like the rest of them and �shoot the breeze� about work, the weather, Turkish carpet sellers, and anything under the sun, as I made sure my hands provided SOME coverage. Before I knew it, a large Turkish woman was motioning me to the �bathing� area of the steam table and I instantly became a newborn baby all over again. �Just pretend it�s my mommy! Just pretend it�s my mommy!� was my Mantra. I lay on the table, trying to cover my nakedness with my arms, and she gruffly shoved them away, forcing me to lay fully exposed, for all of Eden to scrutinize. Her large breasts dangled in my face as her man-sized hands dug into me as if I were a big chunk of bread dough. �Just pretend it�s my mommy! Just pretend it�s my mommy!� The large Turkish woman doused me with soaps and suds galore as her rough fingers massaged and manipulated my body; I slowly began to relax to the procedure, while keeping my eyes shut tight. Every now and then, I would feel a light slap on the buttocks accompanied by a low grunt, her signal for me to, �Roll over!� Before I knew it, I had phased out the rest of the naked world around me and I was victim to this majestically soothing bath. The suds covered me from head to foot until I resembled the ghost of Turkish Baths Present, as the Turkish woman�s sagging breasts threatened to poke an eye out and the fresh smell of the soaps delighted my senses. I began as a nervous, modest adult frightened of this unknown experience; I was gradually transformed into a cooing newborn babe, eagerly partaking in my warm, soothing bath time. After having my head doused with cool water a few times, my bath was tragically finished and I had to rinse myself at a sink and finalize the process. But, by this point, I was walking on air, my skin felt as if a baby had blessed it, and I was thankful that Chris and Marisa had talked me into this. Once we got on the train, we slept like babies . . . oh, the power of a Turkish bath! My final thought is, �Why can�t Bulgaria have public baths? I�d never bathe alone again!� From My Garden to Yours, Eve |
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