In my beach babe twenties I loved a bit of topless sun bathing. Even though I always wished I had a little more than a handful to flaunt I was never too shy to whip off my bikini top in order to minimise unsightly tan lines. However, since breastfeeding my babies, whose greedy guzzling battered my boobs leaving them unrecognisable, and although I wouldn’t change them because “every stretch mark tells a story” (translation – a boob job is too scary and too expensive!!) I have never got them out in public again. Intentionally that is …. At my 40th birthday party I wore a top with a dangerously deep cut V at the front, but tit tape in place to maintain my modesty I enthusiastically got the party started. The tit tape was useless. The small square of double sided tacky plastic expected to hold a piece of fabric and sweaty skin together was never likely to do the job as promised. As the night wore on and the vodka luge became my BFF, the tit tape gave up sticking, I gave up caring and I spent the night flashing my fun bags at my guests! Sorry guests!

So, post babies, the last 20 years have seen my bosom firmly encased behind well constructed rise ‘n’ shine bras. And even though I still wear a bikini on holiday, despite  the magazines telling me I should be in a one piece at my age, the top half has always remained on….Until now!

This week, in Madrid, I have been spending my mornings at the open air municipal pool just three short Metro stops away from home. Why oh why has it taken me two years to be brave enough to go on my own?! It’s heaven. Yes it’s crowded – it’s a municipal pool in the middle of the school holidays – but in this July heat it’s still heaven to me. And anyway my Spanish is so bad I don’t understand the chatter around me so it just becomes white noise. When I close my eyes I could be on any beach where the sun is hot and the water is cool, and as on any beach, the bodies that are dotted around enjoying the hot sun and cool water are of all ages and come in all shapes and sizes.  Young, beautiful couples position their perfect, lightly tanned, taut skinned limbs on side by side towels, while nearby old couples and groups of regulars sit happily chatting, confident in their own mahogany tanned, wrinkled skin. And almost all the women are topless. Old women and young women unashamedly lie, sit, stand, swim wearing only itsy bitsy bikini bottoms to ensure maximum skin exposure. Despite the media’s attempts to persuade women we should all possess perfect orbs we all know that breasts come in all shapes and sizes. And the pool seems to be the Noah’s Ark of knockers. There seems to be a pair of every one of those shapes and sizes. Naked limoncitos (small ones) y chichis (big ones) are everywhere. At this point I wanted to note that I hadn’t been aware of any of the men ogling. But after a discussion with Matt I was informed that I didn’t understand men and that even though there may not have been overt ogling, ogling would definitely have been occurring. In my naivety I thought that if you had seen one (hundred) you had seen ’em all, but I’m not a bloke. Those sun glasses hide pervy eyes it seems! Anyway on the first morning, off came my top and the feel of the sun on my usually bolstered baps was blissful. So I’m going to ignore the potential oglers who are almost certainly looking at prettier, perkier puppies than mine and go with my who gives a hoot(er) attitude, because I have now freed mis tetas and I’m not going back…I feel liberated! In Spain at least, maybe not in Hove! Plus there’s a major bonus..ugly, stretch marked, slightly saggy (ugh!) norks don’t look so ugly or stretch marked with a bit of a tan. Hurrah! Another reason why the Spanish way of life totally suits me!