If we had all the time in the world, we would spend half of it at Barton Springs and the other half in the women's dressing room at Barton Springs. There's a skinny blond woman nude sunbathing in the grass; we can't tell if she's 24 or 44. Then there's a gaggle of girls whose voices and/or radios are heard but not seen. After a while, someone comes in and yells: "Is anyone in here named Jennifer? Your father's out there waiting!" and they appear like a flock of birds, snapping their wet, perfectly-combed hair back in barrettes. In the solar shower, girls and even boys are rinsed and in the courtyard a woman who borders on obese slowly rotates beneath the shower. We've never seen an unclad body as large as hers; she is not ashamed -- and we, too, find it beautiful.
