I recently read an article by travel writer Rick Steves discussing how American travelers often find themselves in a state of shock when they visit Europe and are exposed to European nudity in public. I couldn’t help but laugh since I was one of those Americans when I first visited Italy in 2004. I felt uncomfortable with such uninhibited behavior. My husband, who is from Italy, reassured me that it was normal and acceptable to go topless at the beach. Unfortunately, his words did little to get me to bare it all. Instead, I couldn’t help but secretly stare and wonder why or how so many people could feel comfortable in their birthdays suits (or at least half of them) in public. As I observed, I witnessed every body type: from my own in-laws sporting a bikini and Speedo at the age of 70, to little girls running around with only bottoms on, to little boys in the nude, to grown men in fitted boxers, underwear or the tiniest of shorts, to cellulite-free bodies, well-tanned biceps, stretch marks, no-tan-line silhouettes and everything in between. Not to mention, there were pregnant women on the verge of delivery staying cool in two-piece suits with no hesitation or discomfort enjoying the sun. Their self-confidence reminded me of Demi Moore when she made headlines for posing nude on the cover of Vanity Fair when she was seven months pregnant.

As the summer passed, I tried to muster up the courage to do the same, but couldn’t. I didn’t feel comfortable enough showcasing my breasts in mid-air or for any other man to enjoy the sight publicly. So I proceeded with caution until I started to learn more about Italian culture. I spent countless afternoons at local museums trying to immerse myself in Italian art and culture, and I started noticing one common theme: Exposed bodies everywhere…featured in art, statues and paintings. This sparked my interest in learning more about ancient Greek and Roman art, when heroic nudity was openly accepted. It was a time when the athletic body or human body was admired, when gladiators were cheered on for their Olympic-sized bodies and strength, when curves were the norm instead of the exception. Full-figured women were glorified for their childbearing abilities and all networking occurred in open bathhouses, with a towel-wrapped around waists, instead of behind the keyboard on Facebook. I realized the focus back then was accepting one’s body regardless of size, shape or ability. Embracing one’s own sexuality was part of the human experience until shame and embarrassment was introduced by religion, with the famous “fig leaf” covering up Adam and Eve. Once I reached this conclusion, I decided I would allow the spirit of Venus and the statue David to live on and abandon my overly prudish behavior abroad and embrace my body for all its curves and imperfections.