Running Nude On The Beach

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Running Nude On The Beach
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People.com Lifestyle Style Chelsea Handler Runs 'Naked' on the Beach in Kim Kardashian's SKIMS Shapewear and Boob Tape
"I've always wanted to run on a beach naked, and now with SKIMS, I finally can," the comedian joked on Instagram
By Katie Intner January 13, 2020 02:28 PM
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Kim Kardashian demonstrating how to give yourself a boob lift with her new skims body tape.
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Chelsea Handler Runs 'Naked' on the Beach in Kim Kardashian's SKIMS Shapewear and Boob Tape
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Chelsea Handler is reinventing beachwear thanks to some help from Kim Kardashian West .
On Saturday, the comedian shared a clip of herself running along the beach ( Baywatch style!) in a slow-motion Instagram video, decked out in items from Kardashian West’s solution-focused shapewear brand, SKIMS .
Handler, 44, skipped traditional swimwear in favor of a pair of beige-colored core control shorts and body tape , which she put across her boobs and her private area.
“I’ve always wanted to run on a beach naked, and now with @skims , I finally can,” she wrote alongside the video. “Thank you @kimkardashian !”
The KKW mogul, 39, showed her love for the video, commenting, “Crying!!!!! The tape over the vag is the best part!”
Other celebs followed suit and praised Handler on Instagram.
“This made my day,” Any Schumer commented, while Rumer Willis said, “This is everything I hoped 2020 might be.”
Reese Witherspoon joked, “Is that Bo Derek?” referring to the actress who wore a beige-colored swimsuit on the beach in the 1979 comedy, 10. January Jones added, “What’s that crotch pocket thingy doin.”
Gwyneth Paltrow commented with a crying-face emoji, while Naomi Watts posted a slew of gold trophy emojis.
Handler gave a closer glimpse at the “naked” look on her Instagram Story, laying across a rock on the beach, accessorized with a black sun hat and sunnies.
She made a joke on one photo writing: “The look I make before sex.”
When asked what she was wearing, the comedian replied, “SKIM by Kim Kardashian . This is the nude, don’t worry about it.” She also shared a view of her back, which showed how the body tape was placed to securely hold up her breasts.
Handler’s body tape work replicates that way Kardashian West uses the product to give herself a “boob lift.”
Leading up to the SKIMS body tape launch in November, the Keeping Up with the Kardashians star demonstrated how to use the tape to lift up her breasts and add support in outfits that don’t allow her to wear a bra.
“I go right in over the nipple. I try not to go too much in by her neck because usually a dress comes in that way. You lift it to the desired lift. You try to not lift it too much to where it wrinkles,” the mother of four said on her Instagram Story as she applied the flesh-toned tape on a topless model.
As she put the tape on the other side, the star added: “Guys this has been such a lifesaving secret that I learned on set of a fragrance shoot. The key to the tape is you do not want it to be too stretchy.”
Unlike the harsher types of tape that she’s used in the past (pictured above in 2008), her SKIMS body tape is meant to be comfortable to remove.
“This material is so amazing to wear,” she explained of the SKIMS product. “It doesn’t really rip off your skin like the gaffer’s tape used to do. That would give me literal scabs and burns for the longest time.”

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Naked runners in Spain's Patxi Ros nudist cross-country race.
It was to be just a small race, in “total freedom,” meaning with no sartorial restraints. In other words, running naked.
The organizers expected limited interest and a handful of participants.
“Be bold,” the Facebook invitation read. “Come participate in the running of Berck-sur-Mer! A 6 km race on one of the most beautiful beaches of the Opal Coast. Do you like to run naked or have you always dreamed of doing it? Come and join us.”
What the organizers at Berck-sur-Mer in the northern French department (state) of Pas-de-Calais didn’t imagine when they came up with the idea of a first naked running competition was its popular reception.
A few days after the announcement, and much to their surprise, they were overwhelmed with the widespread internet buzz. "We didn’t think it would arouse such interest," said Philippe Lehembre, president of Hauts-de-France Naturists organizers of the first “Naturopathic Foulées (Naturist Strides). "We thought we’d get 10 people.”
The post was viewed more than 600,000 times. Now they must alter their expectations, impose entry limits and fix the rules and organization of the competition scheduled for September 22.
“The wide sandy beach at Berck is a popular spot with nudists and the Hauts-de-France group organizes regular events in the area including picnics, mussels-french fries evenings and a naked bike ride,” reports The Local .
For the local authorities, “the problem is not that the public will be naked,” the Times of London wrote in an article entitled “Beach run undone by naked ambition.” Their concern is that the participation “is threatening to be so numerous that they will create disorder.”
Because they weren’t expecting so many naked runners, the organizers hadn’t even officially registered the event with local officials. Now the group was forced to apply for a permit and limit participants in the race, which features two laps around a three-kilometer circuit on the beach, to no more than 60.
“We have to limit ourselves to 60 participants to the kilometers of beach where nudism is tolerated,” said Lehembre, who thinks the popularity online was caused by "the poster that pleased because it soberly represents naked runners. The graphics are very nice. The speed of social networks did the rest."
For Daniel Morin, a commentator at France Inter , the explanation for such interest is beyond the poster: “It’s the total freedom! The liberated breasts, even the heaviest ones having the opportunity to disperse at the whim of the strides and all those little pairs of balls initially curled up by the frisky temperature of the North Sea and then gradually warming up....Yes, run finally free! It is a feeling of incredible well-being, a feeling of communion with the elements like no other.”
Nudism in France has become increasingly popular. “It’s enjoying a boom,” according to The Local . “And it isn't only the French who are prepared to let it all hang out in public.”  
Many foreigners, specially British have been enthusiastic participants in different nudist events such as the Parisian Day of Nudism ( Journée Parisienne du Naturisme ) , which took place in June at the Bois de Vincennes and where hundreds of naturists gathered to sunbathe on the grass, have picnics, practice yoga and nude fitness.
So why travel all that way to get naked, the paper asks. "At the end of the 19th century, France became the birthplace of naturism," Julien Claudé-Pénégry, spokesperson for the Paris Association of Naturists (Association des Naturistes de Paris ) answered. “It's simply about 'the art of living.’ We need sun and feeling it on your skin without clothes feels magical. Naturism is about respecting oneself, others and your environment.”
France is the top world destination for nudists , according to the association, with 3.5 million regular practitioners of which 1.5 million are French and two million are foreigners. "People find a lot of variety here. They can experience naturism in the countryside, by the mountains or the sea, or they can take part in the many cultural and sports events held for naturists."
Running naked in the Nude Olympics on Maslin Beach near Adelaide, Australia.

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"Instead of feeling like a celebration of my body, it feels more like I’m Cersei taking her walk of shame on Game of Thrones ."
I was headed on vacation with my husband to a town with a nude beach for a week, and I decided we absolutely must visit it (no matter how uncomfortable the idea made me). My sweet husband wasn't crazy about the idea, but being the supportive guy he is, he got on board. There is a swirl of reasons I was attracted to the idea of a nude beach. At 31 years old, I’ve conquered an eating disorder, most of my body dysmorphia, and countless other seemingly unconquerable insecurities.
Last year, when I turned 30, I went on a celebratory bikini walk — it was the only time I had ever worn a bikini out, and it ended up being pretty liberating. And now, one year into my thirties, I’ve been enjoying the graduation-goggled view of my body many other women talk about as their bodies start to change; noticing wrinkles and new soft patches makes you realize how good you had it in your twenties. If only there were a way to bottle up that feeling of enjoying what you have while you have it to give to younger women.
My time with this reasonably ripe body was running out, and I figured I'd better do something with it. Getting naked at the beach seemed like the perfect thing...until it wasn’t.
I laugh at the accuracy and decide to throw on my favorite and most flattering swimsuit, just in case I chicken out. Even though I never wear makeup to the beach, I find myself slathering it on — my tits may be out, but at least my dark circles will be well undercover.
As we drive to the beach I start to get increasingly nervous. I decide to crack open the book I brought to unwind, Sex Object by Jessica Valenti. It seems like fate; the foreword alone shakes me to my core. I find myself tearing up by the end of the first four pages.
I relate to it all so hard it hurts. And it reveals a purpose in my nude-beach expedition that I knew deep down inside but couldn't find the words to say. I'm doing this nude beach trip to take back my body, which society long ago decided it owned. To take back what's mine.
I'm doing it to spite the teen boys who weren't worthy of me awkwardly flashing them in high school, in some bizarre practice of trying to seem desirable. I'm doing it to show the world my body isn't theirs to force into a size or shape, to decide what happens to my ovaries, or how high my tits should rest. I'm doing it for my fucking self.
I am not a beach bunny. My ancestors descended from snowy mountains. Pale and soft like a Russian cloth doll, I look like I should be draped in wolf pelts to stay warm at any given moment. I put this aside for the moment as we trek down the shore.
At first blush, I’m awestruck. I see several middle-aged women glistening nude in the sun, walking about — lumps and bumps be damned! It feels like a paradise; all I want out of life is to dance naked under the sun and moon with fellow women. I think to myself, I will bring my future daughters here to see bodies that aren’t retouched in magazines .
I suddenly not only don't want to undress, but I also want to run and hide. I ask my husband why those guys are dressed; he infers that it’s “clothing optional.” It feels weird and unfair that some people on this part of the beach are dressed.
We keep walking, and as we go farther down the beach it becomes apparent that the group of women I saw were the only ones there. The rest of the beach is teeming with older men — penises waving in the sun. As we almost reach the end of the beach, a stalky, silver-haired nude man probably around my father’s age approaches me and says the rest of the beach is too rocky to go down. He may have very well had good intentions, but after a lifetime of being approached by creepy men, a small voice in my head says, “He wants you to stop here so he can see your tits.” I try to ignore it.
This isn’t New York City , I tell myself. These are nudists, this is a respectable beach . We go ahead and take the older guy's advice, stopping there. I try to be chill and decide to start by taking off just my top.
Horrified, I quickly grab a piece of clothing and cover my breasts. The man then starts to walk down the beach and I try to calm myself. I give myself a moment to settle and an internal pep talk. Take back your body! I yell in my mind.
With that, I peel off the rest of my clothes. I feel vulnerable and soft, like a snail without its shell simmering in the sun. I try to position myself on the beach chair in a way that covers some of my most private bits. My horror is laced with small bursts of enjoyment when the breeze hits my bare chest.
As I’m having an internal meltdown, I look over to see my husband fully nude, eating a lobster roll, appearing to be having the time of his life — in what seems like a way I could never be. Infuriated at the double standard, I am incentivized more to try to relax and enjoy this experience. I pull my book out for a distraction.
I end up finding ways to hold the book that covers my body, so that passing men can’t see my breasts. The irony of holding a book that says “Sex Object” for coverage is not lost on me. This isn’t working for me.
I make my husband put our umbrella up (a task I usually take care of) in fear of moving in weird positions while nude. I watch as he brazenly does whatever he pleases: running to the ocean, sunning his bottom, having a snack. In a last-ditch effort to enjoy myself, I head to the water for a dip.
I head back to my chair and spend some time watching passersby. It’s mostly the same men I’ve been seeing wandering around. When two straight couples walk by, in both pairs the male is fully nude, balls swinging about. And in both pairs, the female has her towel draped carefully over her breasts. Feeling defeated, I pull my swimsuit back on.
It fueled my fire to try to get the way I feel about my body on level playing ground with the men I saw on the beach (regardless of how they feel about it). Surprisingly, I’m looking forward to trying it again, but at a different beach. Ideally one with more women and more privacy. Hopefully, by my 32nd birthday, the world will be a little more ready for my tits, and I’ll be a little more ready to enjoy them.

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