Im a Grower, Not a Shower. Naturism Makes That Complicated.

Theres something naturists apparently dont do: compare.

Were supposed to be far too enlightened for that. We take our clothes off, embrace the glorious diversity of the human body and somehow stop noticing whether somebody is taller, thinner, fatter, hairier, smoother, younger, older, more muscular or, in the case of men, considerably more endowed.

Except, of course, we dont.

We notice things. Ive been a naturist for more than thirty years and I can honestly say I never judge other peoples bodies, but that doesnt mean I dont see them. Yes, Ive seen thousands of naked men, and women, over the years. Big ones, small ones, fat ones, thin ones, hairy ones, smooth ones, bodies Ive found attractive and bodies Ive barely registered beyond the fact that there was another naked person standing there.

Noticing isnt the same as judging, though, and theres one particular comparison Ive probably been making since I was a teenager.

Penis size.

I first became properly aware that penises were all rather different at school, when we started showering naked together. I was a late bloomer when it came to puberty, and dont remember worrying much about mine then. What I do remember is noticing how different everybody else looked. One boy was thicker, another hung very much to one side, somebody had loads of foreskin, in contrast to my circumcised penis that had no foreskin. At that age, when your own body is changing almost by the week, youre suddenly confronted with the slightly surprising discovery that there really isnt a standard-issue penis.

By high school, though, Id started thinking about size a bit more consciously. There were also, shall we say, certain highly sophisticated educational activities taking place among groups of young men at the time.

Oxford had rowing. Pontefract had wanking races and soggy biscuit (McVities Digestives if you really want to know).

There was one particular lad who's penis was abnormally large. I mean genuinely huge. Although between the sheer size of it, his extraordinarily long foreskin and his energetic masturbation technique, watching him was less like pornography and more like watching, and listening, to somebody trying to control a huge tarpaulin in a gale.

Somewhere around that period, watching Richard and his giant lump-hammer of a penis soak the digestive, I started deciding that mine was quite small. Or at least small when it was soft, because Ive always been what men traditionally call a grower rather than a shower.

And frankly, if youre going to become a naturist, that feels like poor planning.

For me, there's a fairly dramatic difference between soft and hard. When Im erect, Im actually bigger than average. Not enormous by any means, but Im perfectly happy with my size and Ive had enough complimentary remarks over the years to know Im not imagining it.

The problem is that you should see it when its hard isnt really the sort of thing you should say when youre introducing yourself to somebody at a naturist site.

Hello, Im Colin. Dont worry, it's quite impressive when it's hard.

Probably not the best first impression.

And this is where the whole thing becomes slightly ridiculous, because I know perfectly well that flaccid size tells you remarkably little about erect size. I have a friend who's smaller than me when hes soft, but is slightly bigger than me when hes erect. So Ive seen the evidence with my own eyes. I know the entire comparison is fundamentally flawed.

And yet theres still a part of me that thinks it would be nice to have another inch when Im soft. Maybe a bit thicker. Just enough to hang a little more impressively.

Not because I think it would make me more masculine. I dont. Not because I think other men would respect me more, or women would swoon, or someone at a naturist site is secretly wandering around with a clipboard giving everybody marks out of ten.

Its not vanity. It's much more personal than that. I'd like to fill out my briefs a bit more. Perhaps feel less self-conscious when I'm life modelling. Most of all, Id just like it.

Thats the bit I find interesting, because if I see another naked man with a small penis, I genuinely think nothing of it. I dont pity him. I dont think he looks less masculine. I dont wonder whether hes good in bed. I certainly dont assume that what Im seeing when hes soft tells me much about what happens when hes hard.

My brain simply registers another naked human being and moves on.

Over the years Ive seen men who look tiny, men who look average and men who look enormous. Occasionally someone walks past and you do think, Christ! How do you keep that thing hidden in trousers? But that isnt necessarily judgement. Its just observation.

And yes, we all look. Of course we look.

I know this is another one of those things were sometimes expected not to admit in naturist circles, but of course we look at each other. If you put fifty naked people together, people are going to notice bodies. Eyes work. Curiosity exists. Human beings compare things.

What matters is what happens after you notice.

When I see a man whos smaller than me, I honestly dont think, Mines bigger than his. I dont feel better about myself. I dont mentally move myself up some imaginary penis league table. Likewise, if I see somebody much bigger than me, I might have a brief whoa moment, but it doesnt ruin my day.

Thats why I find my own insecurity so interesting. If I dont judge another man for having a small penis, why do I occasionally imagine somebody might judge me?

I dont have a particularly clever answer to that.

Perhaps were simply much harsher judges of ourselves. Perhaps its because men absorb messages about penis size from such an early age that it becomes almost impossible not to attach some significance to it. Jokes, porn, school changing rooms, locker-room talk, dating apps, dick pics, sex itself. The idea that bigger is somehow better is everywhere, even while we simultaneously tell each other that size doesnt matter.

And I dont entirely believe that either.

Size does matter to some people. Sexually, aesthetically, practically, personally. Pretending nobody cares about it at all seems just as silly as pretending everybody does.

Naturists sometimes talk about body acceptance as though taking your clothes off somehow removes vanity as well. It doesnt. You can accept your body and still wish your stomach were a little flatter. You can be perfectly happy naked and still think your arse looked better ten years ago. You can believe every body belongs at a naturist site and still catch sight of yourself in a particularly unforgiving mirror and think, For fucks sake.

And yes, you can be perfectly happy with your penis while also wishing it hung another inch lower when it was soft.

Ive even done what plenty of other men do and given nature a little assistance occasionally.

The fluff.

Men know what Im talking about. Before a photograph, you give things a bit of encouragement. Nothing dramatic. Youre not standing behind the camera crew furiously masturbating while somebody adjusts the aperture. Just a little adjustment, a little rearrangement, a polite request to the blood supply to make slightly more of an effort.

I keep myself trimmed too, partly because thats how I prefer it aesthetically and partly because, yes, less hair can make everything look slightly more prominent. There is probably an entire separate article to be written about the extraordinary amount of preparation some of us undertake in order to look effortlessly natural while naked.

Temperature, of course, is another matter entirely. I skinny dip in Scottish lochs, and Scottish lochs are fucking cold. Nobody emerges from one of those thinking their penis has just had its finest moment. At those temperatures everything retreats so far north that you start wondering whether its going to reappear at all.

Oddly, that bothers me less because theres an obvious explanation. Everyone knows what cold does. If twenty naked men climb out of freezing water, nobody is standing there conducting a comparative penis audit. Were all far too busy trying to locate our testicles.

Its more on an ordinary warm day, when theres no convenient meteorological excuse, that the old thought might occasionally appear. Somebody walks past who is considerably bigger than me, I notice, and some tiny part of my brain thinks, Wouldnt mind another inch.

Then I get on with my day.

I dont cover myself. I dont suddenly feel ashamed. I dont disappear behind a hedge and attempt to generate a semi before returning to polite society. Its just a thought, and these days Im increasingly comfortable admitting that it exists.

Maybe thats a more realistic version of body acceptance anyway.

I dont think accepting your body means reaching some mythical state where you no longer have preferences about it. It doesnt mean waking up one morning, looking in the mirror and deciding every single part of you is magnificent. It certainly doesnt mean that every insecurity youve carried since adolescence simply evaporates because youve spent enough weekends naked.

For me, being naked has always meant something much deeper than simply enjoying having my clothes off.

Clothes are useful camouflage, and I dont just mean physically. I can choose what I wear to control what you see. I can dress in a particular way, create an impression, hide things I dont like and emphasise things I do. I can present whatever version of myself I want you to meet.

That matters to me because Ive spent a lot of my life masking in other ways too.

Living with ADHD and autism has meant spending years learning how Im expected to behave, how other people communicate, what people want from me and which version of myself fits most comfortably into the room. Clothes can become another layer of that. Another bit of armour. Another way of controlling the impression.

When Im naked, I lose some of that control.

Theres no carefully chosen shirt. No flattering pair of trousers. No brand, costume or style telling you who I am. Theres no disguising the stomach I might wish were flatter or the penis I might occasionally wish hung a little lower.

You just get me.

And strangely, that vulnerability is one of the things I love most about naturism. Not because being naked magically removes my insecurities, but because it exposes them and then makes me walk around anyway. That, to me, feels much closer to genuine body acceptance.

It isnt convincing yourself that everything about your body is perfect. Its being able to admit that there are things youd change and realising that they dont have to stop you living in it.

So yes, size matters to me.

Not enough to define me. Not enough to make me feel less masculine. Not enough to make me avoid being naked. But if somebody offered me an extra inch when soft tomorrow, Im not going to sit here pretending Id nobly turn it down in the name of body positivity.

Id probably ask whether it came in a thicker version too.

The amusing part is that after decades of occasionally wondering what other men might think when they see mine, I have absolutely no evidence that anybody actually gives a shit. Because when I look at them, I dont.

I notice. Occasionally I admire. Occasionally Im fascinated. Occasionally I wonder how somebody gets the thing into a pair of jeans. But I dont judge the man attached to it.

Maybe thats the part we should talk about more.

Naturism doesnt stop us comparing. It doesnt stop us noticing. It doesnt magically erase vanity, insecurity, attraction or curiosity. It just gives us enough exposure to ordinary human bodies to discover that difference doesnt automatically need to mean better or worse.

Im a grower. Id quite like to be a little more of a shower. I fluff myself before some photographs. I trim strategically. I notice big penises. I notice small ones. And despite more than thirty years of naturism, there is still occasionally a little voice in my head saying, Another inch would be nice.

Perhaps real body acceptance isnt making that voice disappear.

Perhaps its knowing its there, taking your shorts off anyway and getting on with your day.

Colin. x