I’d heard that Europeans went topless at the beach and tried it solo the summer of my twenty-second year. I didn’t notice I was the only topless beachgoer. It wan’t a problem when I was lying face down on my towel, but walking toward the ocean, pierced by eyes—some gawking, others glaring—I anxiously picked up my pace. I ran into the water, dove in, and hit my head on a rock. Dizzy and bleeding, heart pounding, I made the long trek back to my towel, eyes cast downward, hair and blood dripping, arms wrapped tightly across my chest.
Bella Mahaya Carter is a devoted wordsmith and healer who facilitates online writing circles for fellow writers, artists, healers, and seekers. bellamahayacarter.com, IG: @bellamahayacarter