Naked-ing the Clothed

The cover of Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition.
 And I do mean Cover!

Bit of a departure today, because of a recent experience . . .

I have a swimsuit.

I made it.

Long. Old-fashioned. Neck to knees type.

Yes, popular at the turn of the century.

The Twentieth century.

I love it. It covers me.

It encases anything that might otherwise unexpectedly fall out.

And saves me the aggravation of having to shave my nether regions.

I hate shaving my nethers.

Moving on . . .

Swimming is the only exercise I can do that doesn't hurt something.

I swim a lot.

This necessitates my going to the pool.

Usually, I swim in the morning.

With the other octogenarians.

I fit right in. And no one can see well enough to notice that my swimsuit is different from those found at the local Zellers.

All is well.

But I missed my morning swim yesterday.

And was forced to go at a later time.

With the younger set.

Who can see.

Sigh.

I strode confidently from the dressing room towards the pool.

And that's when the trouble started.

A group of kids, probably in the 10 to 12 age range was sitting on a large, foam raft not too far from the entrance/exit to the change room.

I entered.

One young girl pointed.

And laughed.

I suddenly felt as though I was in junior high again.

It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

But that's not important.

What is important, was how this young girl was . . . dressed.

Her slender little pre-pubescent body was covered, barely (and I use this term deliberately) by two almost non-existent triangles of cloth on her upper half and only slightly larger triangles on her lower half.

She was as close to naked as one can get and still legally appear in public.

And she seemed completely heedless, sitting there amongst other boys and girls her own age, laughing at someone who was dressed in a far more modest, albeit fairly 'unique' swimsuit.

I remember when near-nudity was a source of embarrassment. When one's worst dreams were of appearing somewhere public . . . in a less than exemplary fashion.

Okay, I have to admit that, yesterday, one of us was embarrassed.

Me. For her.

My point is this: When has modestly become an opportunity to jeer?

When did society do a complete turn-around? When did the naked start laughing at the clothed? (Not that I'm promoting the idea of the clothed laughing at the naked . . .) But when?

I have to admit that I believe in modesty.

It promotes confidence and self-worth. It promotes respectful behavior, both to oneself and to others.

I still wear my bathing suit, and will continue to do so.

I'm comfortable.

And isn't that the point?