Real People Publication

 Bare Necessities

What's more awkward than two half naked teenagers? The way me and Chris did it? Nothing!

'Fancy a swim?' he asked, shifting uncomfortably in his swimming trunks. 'Mmm-hmm' I mumbled, beetroot in my cossie. He might have been trying to hide his bird like chest but, to me, he was a blue eyed, blond haired dreamboat.

We'd met the year before at JD's in Cleethorpes - the seaside resorts most happening club, It was October 1996. Alcopops lined the bar and the dance floor thundered with the stomp of platform heels, As Peter Andre crooned Mysterious Girl, I saw Chris waltzing through the room. It was so thick with fag smoke that it was as if my dream fella had emerged from the doors on Stars in Their Eyes.

Chris Hood.

I was 16 to his 18. And from the very first moment we snogged on that dance floor, our chemistry fizzed louder than the clacking of a million game boy keys. Inseparable from then on, we'd spend longs days wandering hand-in-hand along the pier. Now, a year on, we'd pooled our pennies for a jaunt to Majorca. It was off season, so the crowds were thinner, bit I still fretted about my size 14 body. Chris was self conscious too, As we played about in the sea, though, none of that seemed to matter very much. But the holiday had to come to an end. As did our relationship. No big bust-up - we just fizzled out.

By the time I was 18, after we'd had two wonderful years together, I found myself single again. Me and Chris lost touch, and the years raced by. In , when I was 21, I married. Sadly, 12 years later, my husband died. Just 34, I was a widow. A short term romance followed that resulted in my having my son, Ruben, in August 2014. I was happy, I had my boy, great friends, a roof over my head. All that was missing was the man...

So, one evening in July 2016, I pulled on my skyscraper heels and a nice dress, and headed into Cleethorpes for a night out with a mate. Ruben was safely with a babysitter, It was time for mummy to have some fun. Supping a G&T in The Bobbin pub, I couldn't help but smile, It was good to be out again. The spice Girls has been replaced by Adele, my mousy brown locks were not dyed blonde, and I'd gone up a dress size. But it still felt like 1996. In fact, I reminisced so hard that I was seeing things...'Chris?' I asked, spotting the back of a familiar bonce. The figure whipped around. 'Ginny!' Chris gasped. My knees went weak and my hands shook so hard that my drink nearly went flying! With the ice shattered, we caught up on two decades in a gabble of chit-chat. I told Chris all about my life as a full time mum,. He explained he'd gone into Banking In London. 'But I'm moving back, as I've just split with my girlfriend,' he said. Why did that news make my cheeks burn?

Giving him a clumsy hug, I couldn't help but giggle, 'You don't look a day over 20.' After 15 electric minutes, my friend wanted to move onto another pub. I spent the night kicking myself for not getting Chris's number. I wasn't that embarrassed young girl any more. Why hadn't I womaned up? A couple of hours later, I was standing in the taxi queue when I spotted Chris again. 'Put your number in there,' I smiled, handing him my phone. Then as he made for the taxi, I legged it after him and planted one on him. The next day, our messages whipped back and forth faster than balls at Wimbledon. A few weeks later, Chris moved back to his parents' place nearby, and that was it. Our old flame was reignited.

When we'd been together for a few months, Chris pulled out a photo album. 'I thought you'd like to see my holiday snaps,' he smiled. 'Fits with the retro theme,' I mused, pulling it onto my lap. Flipping open the book, my eyes bulged. 'Crikey,' I spluttered. ;That's quite a view...' but I wasn't talking about the Spanish beach. Oh, No. It wasn't quite the package holiday grabbing my attention, it was Chris's package! There were snaps of him on a bike-ride, some with friends, others lounging on the beach in the sun. And in every single shot, there was my fella standing stark naked! Chris explained that he'd been a naturist for around a decade. I could tell he'd grown in confidence since we'd been apart. But this?! 'You don't mind do you?' Chris asked nervously. I'd always been a PJ's straight after a bath kind of a girl, Even home alone, I wasn't one to let my girls or foofoo fly free. But oddly, I wasn't at all put off. 'I don't mind,' I reassured him. 'Its just different.'

Chris explained the naturism was nothing sexual. He wasn't out there eyes up hoards of hooters our mounds of muffs, It wasn't about the other people at all. 'I just feel more comfortable when I'm naked,' he said 'I like to feel the wind beneath my, um...' 'Wings,' I laughed. A few weeks later, we went on holiday to Lanzarote.

Light years away from that shy teen, Chris produced a list of all the local nudist beaches. When we got there, though, I couldn't face whipping off more than my bikini top. Without a care in the world, a starkers, Chris luxuriated in the sunshine. He looked so happy, so free, 'Put some cream on your John Thomas,' I fretted. Though my real worry was about myself. Who wanted to see a late-30's mum with her bits out. It was a great holiday but, once home, my worry turned into disappointment. 'I should have gone naked,' I realised. Everyone was too busy enjoying themselves to worry about the size of this or the sage of that, Determined not to make the same mistake again, I took to the internet. What's naturism? I googled. Scrolling through the results I came across a naturist spa evening in Doncaster. 'I've booked us in,' I grinned to Chris, having typed in my card details before I could stop myself. 'Great!' Chris beamed.

On the night, last January, Chris drove. Sick with nerves, I smoothed down my top over my love handles, Could I really do this? 'My thighs are lardy and my stomachs huge,' I blurted, 'You're gorgeous,' Chris laughed, 'And no matter what you look like, it doesn't matter. No one gives a monkey's'. Still I downed a pint at the bar in about 10 seconds flat as soon as we arrived. As we filtered through to a big open changing room, I looked at the 20 or so people who were with us. More men than women, older, all shapes and sizes. Before I could stop myself, I whipped off my clothes. Then my bra. Then my size-16 not-so-smalls. No on fainted, or even noticed. Everyone kept strict eye contact while they chatted. I felt like a weight - not just my togs - was lifted off my shoulders. After that night, there was no stopping us. We headed to Bramley Baths for a Valentines swim with the Leeds Naturist Group, and found ourselves at Water World in Stoke-on-Trent, Staffordshire, in April. 'What a sight!' I laughed, seeing one of the UK's biggest water parks awash with a sea of bare bums. We all powered down the chutes in our birthday suits and whizzed down slides with nothing to hide our modesty bar the spray!

In May, we were on a beach in Ibiza. The on;y thing on me this time was factor 50 and a smile! Two months on, we even took part in a one-mile run in aid of polar bears at Yorkshire Wildlife Park, near Doncaster. 'Save the bears!' Chris yelled, bobbing in the breeze as he sprinted alongside. 'Daring to bear,' I giggled, my 40D baps swinging as I ran. As our joint love of naturism grew, me and Chris decided we should help others to understand that its nothing perverted or weird. I'd always loved photography, and Chris had done some modelling in his youth. So, in August, we held a photo shoots, inviting strangers on Social Media. The idea was simple. One photo would be clothed, another exactly the same...but naked. The name we gave it was 'Spot the Difference'.

The plan was to show people we're all the same behind our clothes. Lumps or bumps, hairy or hairless. We're all human, I posed next to a dressing table, while Chris was pictures on a motorbike. We're currently busy planning out third Spot the Difference event. Oddly, me and Chris are still pretty modest at home. We've generally got our pants on, at least. It's when we're out with our naturist groups that we strip it all off. I can't believe how much reuniting with Chris, now 40, had changed my life. I'm madly in love, blissfully happy and finally confident in my own skin. We're living together now, and want to take little Ruben, three, to nudist events one day. As a toddler, he loves nothing better than stripping off anyway! It's been a funny old journey, with more bumps along the way than there are on my behind. But take a look at our snaps and tell me - who could be happier than two old flames grabbing life by the short and curlies?

As told to Miyo Padi & Anna Roberts (Stories@realpeoplemag.co.uk)