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Testimony: "My parents were still naked"

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She unveils her family intimacy. From the first shocks of her childhood to the impossible dialogue with her parents, Nathalie wrote the diary of a trauma inflicted, unknowingly, by hedonistic adults and good in their bodies.

1960s

I was born in 1962. Strangely, I have no memory of my parents naked in my early childhood. Perhaps the fleeting vision of maternal nudity in the bathroom. As for my father, never. My parents were still wearing a swimsuit on the beach. Not for long. The gust of May '68 approached.

Mid 1970's

I'm 12 years old. The delicate age. The age when the body begins to change. It was that summer that my parents were naked on the beach for the first time, with their friends sixty-eight. On this beach, we also saw bathers in jerseys. It was this contrast that bothered me, the naked next to the naked. I soon realized that my parents were not naturists, that they practiced wild nudism. At home too. It was something pretty brutal. I did not want to take off my jersey. And I did not really want to see them naked either. It disgusted me.

While my parents are open, tolerant people, we did not talk about them. No explanation. My mother suggested I do not put my shirt on my nascent breasts, I risked "to catch marks, it was not pretty". I kept it. Then I asked myself: who would see my tan marks, anyway? Who, apart from possibly a mother, a sister, sees the naked body of a 12-year-old child? It troubled me, but I did not dare to say anything.

Late 1970s

At the age of 15, I can not stand this militant nudism at home, in the garden or on the beach. I feel that for my parents, people in jerseys, so modest, like me, are nerdy, uncomfortable in their bodies. Adolescence and its procession of complexes do not help. I dream of "normal" parents, like those of my girlfriends. I fear to discuss with them, for fear of being criticized, rejected. They are so beautiful, so well in their bare skin and tanned, they are surely the ones who are right. My younger sister is naked on the beach too. It does not seem to bother her. It's me who must be abnormal. I suffer in silence. I keep an abominable memory of those summers.

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