It always starts the same way: someone opens a cooler, someone else says “we should totally do it,” and then someone (usually me) gets peer-pressured out of her bra and into a suspiciously warm body of water while yelling “YOLO” with the misplaced confidence of a woman who clearly has not learned her lesson.

Hi. I’m Kristin. And skinny dipping? It’s kind of my thing.

Not intentionally. I didn’t set out to become the person who’s always half-naked in a lake at 1 a.m. with strangers, soggy tortilla chips, and one sandal. But life, like water, is slippery. And somehow, every single summer, I find myself stripped, submerged, and silently screaming “WHY AM I LIKE THIS?”

This book is for anyone who’s ever gotten naked impulsively, semi-willingly, or under the influence of spiked seltzer. It’s for the brave, the bold, the bashful—and the ones who didn’t bring a towel and are now awkwardly air-drying behind a stranger’s car.

It’s also for people who think skinny dipping is sexy.
Let me stop you right there.
It is not sexy.

Skinny dipping is a mess. You’re cold, slippery, trying to act chill while secretly wondering what just brushed your thigh (it’s never good), and clenching every muscle because you forgot how buoyancy works when your bits are free-floating. And yet…
I keep doing it.
And deep down, I know you want to, too.

This isn’t just a guide to skinny dipping. It’s a survival manual. A collection of tips, warnings, and deeply unflattering stories to help you live your best naked aquatic life. From how to navigate strangers with visible piercings in unusual places, to how to gracefully exit the water without looking like a wet mole rat escaping a baptism gone wrong—I got you.

You’ll learn what to bring, how to behave, where not to squat, and why it’s always a good idea to double-knot your towel when sitting in the backseat of an Uber at 2 a.m. soaking wet and mildly ashamed.

So take a deep breath.
Drop your pants.
And come on in.

The water’s fine.
The choices? Questionable.
The stories? Worth it.