I’ve always wanted to go to a topless beach but thought the only chance I’d have was during a trip to Europe. If my family weren’t with me, of course. So when I found out that Miami Beach had the only topless beaches in America, I knew it was my chance to give it a shot.
So there we were on the beach across from our hotel on Ocean Drive. I’d told my friend Lisa beforehand that the beaches were topless, and that I was planning on taking advantage. She agreed to try it too. “But you have to go first,” she said.
On our first full day in Miami the sky was partly cloudy, the temp in the upper 70s.
“Is this a topless beach?” I whispered to the man we rented lounge chairs from.
“Yes, all the beaches on Miami Beach are topless. But,” he added, holding his index finger up, “just the tops. Not the bottoms.”
We parked ourselves in the middle of a sparsely populated beach. I looked around at the other sunbathers, but didn’t see any topless women.
“We’ll ease into it,” Lisa said as she spread sun block on her legs.
For an hour or so we relaxed, bathing ourselves in the warm sun that we had so little of in Chicago. I thought about our goal ahead, and how the society we were raised in affects it. I’ve always believed America is a little too puritan when it comes to nudity and should adopt a more relaxed view of the human body, like in Europe.
It got me thinking of Janet Jackson’s Nipplegate from the 2004 Super Bowl. Her nipple-shielded breast flashed for nine-sixteenths of a second (according to Wikipedia), and the country still freaked out. I wonder how many children became more intrigued and ran to their computers to re-watch the incident over and over. Not because it happened in the first place, but just because their parents turned it into hysteria.
I watched as paunchy hirsute men walked around the beach shirtless. If we have to look at that without being offended, why can’t I, a trim, fit woman, be free?
There were some kids frolicking in the water several feet away. I wondered if we should keep our tops on because of them. But, I decided it wasn’t my problem. They weren’t my kids, and it wasn’t my responsibility to explain nudity to them and the laws of Miami Beach.
“She’s topless,” Lisa whispered, gesturing to the woman behind us. We glanced at her as she sat with her husband, basking her bare torso in the sun, conversing with him as if it was no big deal. Was it?
Okay, I thought. Here it goes. I untied the back of my bikini top, lifted the halter strap over my head. “Just do it,” Lisa said. I pulled off the top and tossed it aside. Lisa did the same. I lay back down, closed my eyes and just let the sun beam down on me.
“Are you going to take your top off? Why not?” A guy nearby asked his girlfriend after he noticed our liberation. But she didn’t. And I have to ask: Why not?
We spotted a few other topless women on the beach. It doesn’t surprise me that a majority of them kept their tops on. Maybe most of them didn’t realize they had the option. But most likely, they were too insecure to do it. I’m glad I’m secure with my body image and open-minded enough to experience it. It was worth every second.
We lay there for about ten minutes before putting our tops back on. It was, after all, our first time. But the next few days we did it again for longer stretches of time. It became comfortable, normal. We saw more women do it too. I’m sure the men did double-takes, but they didn’t stare like idiots.
I would do it again, but it all depends on whom I’m with. Of course, I wouldn’t do it if my family were around. If I were alone with a boyfriend, I’d lose the top only if he were okay with it. If I were with a group of friends that included both men and woman? No, in that case, I’d keep my top on. It all depends on the situation. But I don’t regret doing it, and I highly recommend it.
And, no, I didn’t take any pictures.
