I had a piece in the Independent last week and you can read it HERE.
Personally, I like to take every opportunity to get my boobs out; they are a constant source of amusement to me. There is nothing that I ever don’t find hysterical about the fact that there are fleshy meat-sacks hanging off the front of me, billowing and dangling away down there. We have to live in our skin, every day, and my feeling is that we might as well get used to it. But that matter-of-factness is something that I’ve had to work on: attempting to feel free in my own skin, after a lifetime of being told that I shouldn’t be. I’m getting there.
My parents are very proud.
(One day I will update this blog with an actual blog, not just a link to an article. MAYBE.)