The Queen of the Nude Beach

Finally free of the office, full of creative minds, but squandered by deadlines and demands, I packed my easel, canvas, paints, and trusted brushes.

Taking my tools to the perfect site was not easy. People stared at me like I was the naked one. Most didn’t want their image captured on the canvas, because they were afraid what their conscious mind would think of it; as if going to a nude beach and undressing in public weren’t a conscious decision! They ushered me on with harsh scowls.

Once I had settled in a spot and become a fixture, preparing my paints, a lady undressed before me, who was soon heckled. Gawking tourists near my canvas snickered and whispered, “cow.” The lady was quite large. Unashamed of her rolls, she basked in the sun. “Ugh, let’s move!” they said.

I began to paint.

I painted her dignity, her unadorned grace, her comfort in her own skin. She was celebrated on my canvas. Soon the queen of the beach came to see my work.
“You made me a Greek goddess.”

Feeling appreciated, I smiled.

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