Welcome to My World

Two years ago, I was in a dark place. I had lost 115 pounds, but somehow… I still didn’t feel pretty. I didn’t look like the women I saw online or in magazines. I picked myself apart every time I looked in the mirror—harsh, judgmental, and never satisfied.

The beach had always been my happy place. But even that became tainted. Bathing suits made me feel more exposed than protected. They clung in the wrong places, cut me in all the wrong ways. I started to hate the very place I once loved—because I hated how I looked in a swimsuit.

Then one day, I heard about a nude beach about an hour from me. I thought, You know what? Why not? I didn’t overthink it. I slipped on a long maxi dress—with nothing underneath—and drove there alone. I figured if I didn’t bring a bathing suit, I’d have no choice but to go all in.

When I arrived, I looked around and smiled. There was something… peaceful. I stayed close to the mat path in case I chickened out. But I laid out my blanket, took off my dress—and felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time:

Free.

On one side of me, there was a beautiful, fit twenty-something woman. On the other, a radiant, curvy woman in her thirties. Couples were dancing. People of all ages, shapes, and sizes were laughing together, totally unbothered. I was in my happy place again—but this time, it was better than I ever imagined.

Then, a man sat next to me and said it was his first time too. At first, it was a friendly conversation—until it took a turn. He asked if he could rub lotion on my “beautiful naked body.” I froze. But before I even had to say no, someone nearby noticed my discomfort and invited me to join their group.

That group changed everything. They taught me the do’s and don’ts of the beach. The etiquette. The boundaries. The unspoken rules. They made me feel safe. Since then, I’ve gone back countless times and met the most amazing people.

I’ve heard stories about how the beach was back in the ‘60s—people camping under the stars. I’ve met artists, jewelry makers, sand sculptors, painters… even someone who burns driftwood with the power of the sun. Every visit feels like discovering a hidden, sacred world.

And swimming nude in the ocean? It’s like how it was always meant to be. No wet, clingy bathing suit. Just you, the waves, and the sun on your skin.

That beach was where my love of naturism was born.

Later, I met someone who lived at a nudist resort. I was blown away—that’s a thing? Since then, I’ve visited several. Some felt completely safe and welcoming. Others? Not so much. Some felt cliquey or uncomfortable.

And that’s why I started this blog.

Because as a single woman, I’ve realized we’re treated like unicorns in the nudist world. Not because we’re rare—but because so many of us are afraid to go. Afraid of being alone in a vulnerable setting. Afraid of being sexualized. Afraid of the unknown.

But I’m here to say: it doesn’t have to be that way.

There are many nudist spaces where sexual behavior is strictly prohibited. Where families raise generations of body-confident kids. Where people get to know you for who you are, not what you look like.

My experience at that beach helped me heal faster than years of therapy ever could. My self-esteem, my confidence, my joy—they all came back to life. And some of my closest friendships were born right there on the sand, in nothing but sunshine and kindness.

So this blog is for the curious. For the scared-but-intrigued. For the women who secretly want to try it but don’t know where to begin.

I’m here to tell you:
Your body is not a problem to fix.
It’s art.
And you deserve to feel at home in it.

Welcome to my world.
Let’s get bare.

— Sierraes.