I think it has finally hit: there is a gait to my step and I have banished the winter fleece to my wardrobe! That's right: summer is here! And what a relief it has arrived! After a long, drawn out and damn right depressing winter we are finally feeling some warmth.I love that I can leave the house in a t-shirt. I can don my sunglasses and I can actually work up a sweat. I love sitting out in the parks, feeling the grass between my toes and feeling the full brunt of the sun's warmth.
I do, however, have one objection.
Why do people insist of swanning around shirtless in the park?
Why do people whip out the bikini and lie splayed out as if they were on the golden sands of California?
The closest beach is a good hour and a half from central London - yet I'm still seeing the budgie smugglers (or speedos) on parade.
There is nothing wrong with wanting to enjoy the rays, and certainly nothing wrong with making the most of the summer. There is, however, something fundamentally wrong with a sun burnt older man frolicking with his gut on full display. This site greeted me the other day in none other than Royal Greenwich Park. A park, stately in its history, proud in its regality was playing host to a big, fleshy parade of flab.
I realise that not all of us should be obliged to have buff, sculpted abs bodies - nor should we. That being said, any blatant display of flesh outside a gym, pool, water related and bedroom activity, is not really welcome in my book. Particularly when is is burnt to a crisp (a result of not being sun safe enough) and monstrously hairy.
I do not want to become militant about flesh on display, but a certain amount of discretion would not go astray. I am not asking for a full purdah type situation, just a covering up of a stomach that protrudes more than a metre from where it should be!
Words: Katie Cowell
