Paris Naked Remembrances

It’s funny what the human mind can remember about the past. I remember the first postcards I sent from Paris. I had to send them, just to show how backwards America was.

The flesh displayed on those picture postcards is etched into my mind. I can see them exactly as I saw them 35 years ago even now as I whack away on this grimy keyboard. I don’t know why this is. I mean I was doing some online banking the other day and the bank’s security geeks insisted I put some answers to their idiotic “security questions.” I’m sorry, but I do not remember the full name of my kindergarten teacher. I do not remember the address of my birth hospital. I do not remember the age of the aunt with the purple birthmark who got hit by a Brinks truck when I was floundering around in my wading pool at age 4 1/2 either, goddamit.

But I remember exactly the poses of the delightful french lasses as they flaunted their freedom and their obvious joy at living with the teeniest amount of cloth constricting their tan and robust bodies as was humanly possible. Imagine.

But the world is changing. All that we fought for in the 70s is lost. We are now, officially, ashamed not only of our bodies, but every body God made.

He must be feeling terrible right now. Because Parisians— Parisians of all people!—are getting their fleshy perfection shoved behind bars.

Authorities say city dwellers could face jail for sunbathing topless in parks or on riverbanks, specifying that there should be ‘no breasts or private parts’ on display. ~ Parisians face fine and jail over topless and naked sunbathing

I am sorry for the Parisians and their untanned bits. If you like imperfect tans, find out more about their beaches: Paris Plages 2012

I am going off to weep.

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