NothingToDread.com

What is it about the first day of daylight savings time that always makes me feel like more than an hour was tacked on to my day? Thank god the day doesn't fall on a Monday... shish sheesh! Screw you autocorrect... I'll type shish sheesh if I want to! I don't care if you do think that it should be shish. Shish wouldn't make sense in this context, would it? Why am I arguing with autocorrect? Back to my point before my OS so rudely interrupted me... Ok, autocorrect, you are correct, interrupted does work better than what I initially typed... Where was I? Hell, I don't remember.

Today just felt long. It wasn't a bad day. It was actually a pleasant day. I had a long chat with a friend in Greece. As a matter of fact, I believe a personal record was broken today. She says she didn't do it, but I'm pretty sure that she flipped me off from someplace across the Atlantic. I've never been flipped off from that far away. Did I mention that it was a video chat? Well, it was a video chat, and I distinctly saw her social finger. I don't care if she does insist that it was her index finger. Why would anybody display her index finger in that manner? Nope, it was her social/middle finger. I'm sure of it... I've been flipped off by a lot of people, and I know a middle finger when I see one.

Latter today, I went on a rambling 20.54 mile ride around town. I didn't follow any particular route. I just enjoyed the warm weather. I know that the cold shouldn't make much of a difference once I get going, but I'm dreading the part of my "winter" rides that fall between the time I start and the time I get warmed up. Ok, I live in a place that doesn't technically get winter, but I still feel the cold. If I lived someplace with real winters, I'd could justify spending more money on staying warm, but it just doesn't get cold enough for that here. Do you see my quandary? I'll pretend that I saw you nod. Since we don't have a video feed going, I'll just be forced to rely on my imagination. You should see what you're doing.

It's been a quiet year at nothingtodread.com. So quiet in fact, that I've frequently considered shutting the whole thing down in favor of a clean slate. What began as a fun little project... a place where I could explore, speak freely, and on a good day share some truth and information, gradually became a chore. I found myself worrying about who I might offend, what might be taken out of context, and what direction this blog should take. I found myself struggling to define something that I initially conceived as an amorphous playground.

Despite the fact that I frequently covered topics related to social nudism, I never described "Nothing to Dread" as a nudist blog. It was meant to be a place where I could freely write about nudism, sexuality, and general adult topics that caught my imagination. To some extent, my imagination was initially intended to be a driving force behind "Nothing to Dread". As the name of the site should imply, I meant to write without fear, or dread, of what people might think. However, I quickly discovered an eight hundred pound gorilla related to the nudist sensibility. Before long, I began to view every post not related to nudism with an eye towards "What will nudists think".

For a while there, I writing about nudism was fun. I engaged in several debates with my fellow bloggers, and I felt like I was truly contributing to the discussion in a positive way. There was a month or two there when I truly felt that the "nudist blogosphere" was a better place with me in it. The problem was that it didn't take long for me to feel as if all I was doing was picking fights, repeating myself, and above all, attempting to define the indefinable. At one point, I felt a complete disconnect... let's just say I was finished with nudism as a topic.

For a while, I experimented with a "members only" section of the blog. I saw that as a mechanism through which I could stray from nudist topics without muddying the waters. I wrote a little there, but some of the topics required audience participation to keep them going... My small group of "members" was less enthusiastic about their participation than I had hoped, so I let the project die. I think that "log-in required" section created some confusion amongst the occasional visitor to the blog. From time to time, I get requests for membership. I suppose some folks assume that something must be going on behind those closed doors. Nothing attracts folks like a locked door.

I'm not sure why I keep the site around, but it's still here, so I may as well post something from time to time. After all, why worry about what people will think about posts at a blog nobody reads anymore?

Before we I get started... Yes, I understand that swimmers are pretty much nothing but lean muscle. No, I don't think that fat is a required component of swimming. Now let me begin. Last night, I noticed that I was having a bit of trouble treading water in the pool. Swimming tasks other than treading water also required more effort than I've been accustomed to in the past. I couldn't figure it out. I suspected the three apple martinis I had with dinner in addition to the weight of that rack of ribs I ate, but it still didn't make sense.

The reason finally struck me this morning. I haven't been swimming since before I lost nearly 90 pounds of buoyant fat. I suppose it's time to learn how to swim without my no longer perpetually present biological flotation apparatus. Anyway, I think it's funny.

As if to prove that you can find anything you're looking for on the internet, some poor schmuck, who I'm sure meant to type colony, recently arrived at nothingtodread.com after submitting the following search term to Google:Pictures of nudist colon. I bet he wasn't expecting images from this nudist's recent colonoscopy.

I also had to laugh at the searcher who specified "Nudity in progress". How many times do you think that searcher was burned by the unfulfilled promise of nudity before he or she decided to stop taking chances?

2:30 am! What the hell was I thinking when I made that decision?

I never sleep very well when I know that I have to wake up especially early in the morning. I really didn't sleep well knowing that my MacBook Pro/iTunes/Automator alarm clock was set to go off at 02:30 in the am. I tossed, I turned, and I suppose I slept a bit before being awakened by the sounds of the bouzouki introduction to the Falirotissa by Yiannis Papaioanou). I managed to roll my still cursing formerly fat ass out of bed and pointed my still shrinking belly towards the kitchen for a cup of automatically activated freshly brewed coffee. Thank god for timers. I poured a cup, scalded my throat, and poured another before sitting down for a simple breakfast of yogurt and fresh fruit (Strawberries and bananas).

I got dressed, loaded the truck, and pointed it towards Expedition Park in Los Angeles. Since I only took one wrong turn, I found myself standing on the starting line for the Acura L.A. Bike Tour along with a handful of other early risers. The horde formed and the powers that be turned us loose on that deserted stretch of Los Angeles streets that made up our little slice of the Los Angeles Marathon route.

This morning's event was my first organized cycling event. I have to admit that I got a little emotional. I admit that I was slightly intimidated by the initial the crush, but the majority of the twenty-one odd miles of the Bike Tour were rather pleasant. It wasn't a race, but more than a few Racer X motherfuckers made the first mile or so resemble an attack of killer locusts, but once things thinned out a bit, one could safely pass slower riders without resembling a torpedo bomber dodging ack ack flack.

The route had its ups and downs. There were plenty of downhill grades that provided a pleasant rest, but there were also a couple of hills that definitely got my heart rate going. There aren't a lot of hills on my typical morning route, but I did ok. I'm glad I participated in this year's Acura LA Bike Tour, and I'm already looking forward to next year's event.

You may have noticed the Twitter side bar item to the right. It's the one titled "DreadFree @ Twitter. If you're a cool Web 2.0 cat or kitten who doesn't need me to explain Twitter, or anything else twixt sun and manure, take this opportunity to read the funny pages. Smoke 'em if you got 'em. For the rest of you... Yes you... When it isn't down:

Twitter is a service for friends, family, and co-workers to communicate and stay connected through the exchange of quick, frequent answers to one simple question: What are you doing? Bloggers can use it as a mini-blogging tool...

Twitter FAQ @ Twitter.com

In a nutshell, Twitter helps answer the question: "Why doesn't DreadFree update his Blog more often. Answer: DreadFree's life is as boring as hell. You can now access real time updates proving that irrefutable fact.

I've been updating Twitter via the web and my by text messages from my mobile phone. The last five updates are viewable on the right sidebar (Unless Twitter is down), and you can follow my complete updates at http://www.twitter.com/dreadfree. Learn more about Twitter at http://www.twitter.com.

The stats program I use here at nothingtodread.com includes a keyphrase report feature. As the name implies, the keyphrase report allows me to see the magic words that people plugged into the lovely little search engine that led them to my site. You'd be amazed by the number of times someone has arrived here looking for photographs of the shaved genitals belonging to a certain Palm Springs resort owning couple. You see, that's the problem with search engines, if you don't phrase that whacky request just right, you can wind up in all kinds of unrelated locations. Although I've mentioned the aforementioned man and his wife by name, I've never mentioned their genitals. I also can't recall commenting on their genital grooming habits. However, since I've mentioned their property, their names, genitals, shaved genitals, and photographs, certain whack jobs with a keen interest their genitals have been misled by Google, and arrived here seeking photos of a resort owner and his allegedly shaved wife.

Whack jobs aside, I've been toying with the idea of responding to some of the keyphrases that appear in the log. Don't worry, I don't have access to personal information. I wouldn't post it if I did. I'll answer questions where appropriate, and ask a few of my own when things stray off the reservation.

Keyphrase submitted via www.google.co.uk - "naturist having sex under water": Why "naturist"? Would people having sex under water be any less interesting if they were philatelists?

Keyphrase submitted via www.google.com - "can astroglide be used in shaving male pubic hair?": This is not expert advice. I am not a qualified in any way to provide skin care or grooming advice to the public. I can't guarantee that you won't develop some horrible flesh eating bacteria, or that your penis won't sprout wings and fly away if you use Astroglide as a lubricant while shaving your pubic hair. That said, I've had great success shaving my pubic region with Astroglide and other silicone based lubricants.

Keyphrase submitted via www.google.com - dangers of silicone lubricants on certain toys: My experience is that silicone lubricants act as a solvent that will disolve silicone toys.

Keyphrase submitted via www.google.com.au - new to nudism should i shave my pubic hair?: Quick answer - That is up to you. Realizing that customs may be different in your part of the world, various stages of genital grooming are quite common amongst nudist/naturist women here in the US. Women tend to favor styles ranging from the "Playboy" look to the full Brazilian. It also appears that many men will at least trim their pubic hair while a complete shave is less common. The great thing about nudism is that nudists generally accept you as you are.

...Endless breadsticks and salad

Son of a bitch, but that sounds good. I don't care what you think of The Olive Garden, but I love their Endless breadsticks and salad combination. Bread... I remember bread. I haven't had much of that particular product since some time around Halloween. I suppose I could have a slice of bread every morning with my morning chicken egg. Yea, I could have a slice of bread if I was a big enough fan of mass produced whole grain sliced bread to risk eating a chicken egg that hasn't been fried in bacon grease and wrapped around the aforementioned bacon, sausage, fat fortified cheese, and other artery blocking omelet goodness. Mmmmmm, bacon grease. Besides, why would I eat mass produced sliced bread that doesn't have rich creamery butter dripping out of its crispy little pores?

I've been writing a lot about dieting, weight loss, cycling, and all kinds of other crap that doesn't have anything to do with social nudity or anything else I used to write about. I've tried to force a few articles about nudism and sexuality, but that seldom seems to work very well.

I know I'm letting you down. You know who you are. I just can't come up with a single thing to write about social-nudity that I haven't said before. To be honest with you, I can come up with more to write about my newfound preference for boxer-briefs than I can about social-nudity, nudism, naturism, and the naked state of affairs that we often find ourselves in when we choose to leave the rest of ya'all behind in favor of that cement pond where it all hangs out.

That's the problem with writing about non-sexual social nudity. Once you go over the basic material about body image, and nudism not being about sex, all you really have left is towel sitting and the dress code.

Today was just another quiet December day in sunny Southern California. I wasted a bit of time playing World of Warcraft this morning, but I eventually got off my steadily shrinking ass and hopped on my bike. I stopped by Brutus and Roxanne's for a cup of coffee and conversation before continuing my way along a meandering ten mile route that took me through several residential tracks and a park.

Hey... Did I mention that the inevitable finally happened today? I finally went flying off my bike. I was ten miles into a fifteen mile ride when it happened. There's a stretch of road near a large shopping mall and directly adjacent to a major auto center. By auto center, I mean that section of town where all the new car dealers gather to compete with one another. Acre upon acre of shiny new cars all gathered in the same place for your consumer consideration. The whole area is a Mecca for distracted drivers, and it's directly on my route to and from my local Lindora weight loss clinic. It's also the part of my ride where I'm least likely to want to be on the street. As a result, I tend to ride on the sidewalk until I'm clear of the area. It's not too bad. I seldom run into a pedestrian. If I do run into a pedestrian, I always grant them right of way and a wide berth. My civic-minded good nature could have been the end of me today.

Ok, so there I was minding my own business riding away on the public sidewalk when I see an approaching pedestrian. What the hell... They feel all warm and safe walking on my bike path; I can stray onto their sidewalk when I need to feel safe on my bike. Anyway, there I am riding on the old sidewalk when I spot a prime example of the North American pedestrian) Civic minded cyclist that I am, I detoured onto a strip of grass allowing the bipod sufficient room to continue on her path undisturbed. It wasn't until I was well clear of the lovely lady that life took its catastrophic turn. I passed the pedestrian and turned my bicycle's handlebars towards the sidewalk. I turned towards the sidewalk, and my front wheel sunk into a rut that ran between the well-manicured lawn and city sidewalk. I tried to slow down. I tried to right myself. I tried to avoid the fall, but gravity is a bitch.

I abandoned all hope of staying on the bike, and let the laws of physics do that thing they do so well. The bike went one way; I went the other way. I fell properly. I slid on my shoulder and side. I landed on grass, and managed to maintain contact between fabric and ground. Slow motion kicked in, and I looked in the direction of my slide to discover that my helmet protected cranium was on a direct collision course with a concrete pillar. Thank got for slow motion. I had time to roll and averted the cranial impact. Helmet or not, I'm not a crash test dummy. My knee suffered a minor grass burn. I jumped to my feet, righted the bike, and reinstalled the chain that had slipped of the front derailleur at some point following the moment the bike and I parted ways. I rode home without further incident.

I'd like to believe that some of my posts, especially those related to the subject of social nudism, have been helpful and informative. I wouldn't even mind knowing that one or two poor souls were helped along their merry way by the posts detailing my experiences with genital grooming. If you got a chuckle or two out of reading some of my other articles involving wayward trips to Tijuana and parts east, way east; I'm glad I brought some joy to your life. The fact is that nothingtodread.com is not the best blog out there, and I have no illusions that it even comes close to being the best of the sub par submissions for your consideration. When I'm at the top of my all too minor-league game, I try to write these articles as if they were entries into a private journal. The best posts are those that are treated as if they'll never see the light of day. My honest posts are always my best. I suppose that's why I enjoy my extemporaneous rants. It's only when I worry about what you're going to think that I begin to second guess my self and censor the life out of my articles.

Someone recently asked me what made me decide to start blogging. I gave her the old, "I enjoy writing", response, and tossed in a thing or two about appreciating the opportunity to write about the things that I normally have the good sense to keep to myself. The reality is that I'm not sure why I blog any more than the lunatic in the park knows why he feels the need to shout conspiracy theories to Sunday strollers from dawn till dusk. He just does. I suppose the Internet is my soapbox in the park.

Blogging doesn't always come easy to me. That's especially true when life takes its normal and routine course. In my case, my life's normal and routine course hasn't been very eventful for quite some time. I'm not sure why, but we seldom get out to any of our area's nudist clubs or resorts. I'd like to be more active in my local nudist community, but routine has a way of getting in the way. Writing about sex might have been easier fifteen or twenty years ago when I was single, but now days it's hard to imagine that anybody wants to read about middle aged monogamous sex. Also, I tend to avoid getting too specific about my current sex life out of respect for my wife's reluctance to participate in this particular exercise in exhibitionism.

I often think that writing about sex would be a lot easier I had been born with a pair of X chromosomes instead of an X and a Y. Call me gender biased, but I'd much rather read about a woman's masturbation fantasies, sex life, and views on sex than a man's. When a woman writes about masturbation it's sexy, she's liberated, and it is generally viewed as erotic. When a man over the age of forty writes about taking cock in hand... Well, that market is a little over saturated. There may be a market for nude males, but I'd be very afraid if that market posted me as the special of the day.

I don't have a lot to say today. I really haven't had a lot to say for the past week. Things have been pretty quiet and uneventful in my world. I may not have a lot to say, but people have been telling me that my colon really needs to start moving down and off the page. Who would have believed that my healthy inside parts would be more objectionable than my overweight outside parts? Since I don't have much to say today, I'll just try and get a little rambling rant going.

My regular readers (The three of you know who you are) know that I try and keep content that some of my more sensitive readers might find objectionable beyond the break. I'm not sure where this one is going, so I'll just break here and see you on the other side.

I won't be riding this morning. I didn't get to eat much yesterday because of a medical fast leading up to a colonoscopy this afternoon. I had a few servings of chicken broth and that was about it. I haven't eaten anything today, and the procedure is scheduled for noon. I'm not feeling very energetic, and I don't want to risk getting half way through the ride without feeling up to the other half.

I picked up a four-liter plastic jug containing a powder mixture known as Colyte yesterday. I took it home, filled it with water, and shook it up until the powder was dissolved. I added a teaspoon of another mixture that was intended to reduce gas, and placed all four-litters in the fridge to chill.

At 5:00pm, I began drinking 8oz of the stuff every 10 minutes. I had consumed all 4000 ml (Four-liters for the mathematically challenged) of the stuff by 8:00 pm. It wasn't that bad at first. I just chugged the stuff down, and was ok. It gradually got worse. Towards end, I was gagging with each gulp.

I spent a good part of my evening in the bathroom. I won't go into the disgusting details, but suffice to say that my doctor will have a clear view of my colon this afternoon.

It's 6:15 am and forty-four degrees Fahrenheit. Is this morning's ride really necessary? I suppose it is, so I sit here preparing to slip out of my sleeping clothes and into my riding clothes. Some nudist I am, sleeping in shorts and a t-shirt.

I was awakened this morning by my trusty MacBook Pro/iTunes alarm clock to the sounds of Cheap Trick's rendition of Aint That a Shame followed by  Tom Mcrae's Karaoke Soul amongst others.

As the playlist slips from Dylan's Things Have Changed to Johnny Cash singing One Piece At A Time, I remind myself that I really should be changing and heading out. Today is the start of week five of my weight loss plan. Week five will be tricky for reasons I'll cover later (Maybe). Week five is a milestone week and the midpoint of the weight loss stage of the program. I'll be measured and weighed for the record. For my sins, you'll also be punished with another set of progress photos. You've been warned.

I'll leave you with the Jeff Buckley version of Hallelujah as I slip out of my shorts...