I couldn’t find my shirt after swimming today and feared I might have to travel the world shirtless. It took me the better part of a terrified minute to remember that, in this weather, men can get away that.
But still I felt I’d look naked.
I think you have to have a better developed upper half than mine to not look wrong in a bare torso, even in the summer sun. I am, it seems, all soft curves and disproportion, like a badly designed garment.
And that, perhaps, is the crux. A well-built torso gets to the point where it looks so carefully constructed that it becomes, in effect, a shirt.
I found mine on the floor.