Slapping on the sunscreen has confirmed that ‘top surgery’ was the best decision I’ve ever made. And I won’t let anxiety about people seeing my scars get in the way

The Sun’s page 3 is gone! Or it isn’t. But maybe it will be one day. In the meantime, let me tell you about some nipples that aren’t causing any controversy: mine.

I had surgery in April 2014 to make life as a guy easier. Doctors call it a double mastectomy with free nipple grafts. Having it done was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made and that feeling has only been reaffirmed with recent visits to the beach. This “top surgery” leaves long lateral scars that trace the lower line of each of my burgeoning pec muscles. There are also scars on my nipples but you can’t really see them because, well, they’re nipples.

The view commonly held by surgeons (and people who have had the surgery), is that you should keep these scars out of the sun for a year to avoid discolouration. I’m usually good at following such advice. My scars are thin and smooth because I cared for them in the early days and was lucky enough not to get keloids, or lumpy scar tissue.

But then, in December, I moved to Australia and my discipline flew out of all the open windows.

I wanted to live near a beach and to be in the sea as much as possible. This was in no small part because it would mean going shirtless. I’d been doing that at home for months, revelling in the simple fact that I can.

But on the beach, there would be other people, and they would see my scars. This gave me pause for thought. I asked for advice on social media. Most people reported never being asked about their scars because people aren’t that observant. Others said they had discovered that top surgery scars are very similar to those caused by treatment for a collapsed lung. The perfect alibi for when a random dude asks about my gnarly “surfing injury”.

The comedian Tig Notaro has had a double mastectomy, in her case because she had breast cancer. She recently performed her standup show in New York topless. It makes my anxiety about scars on an otherwise uncontroversially masculine body sound like a fuss about nothing.

In any case, as you may have noticed, I’m pretty “out” as trans. For all my nerves, I wouldn’t let scars hold me back. I draw confidence from taking my shirt off with purpose, and “buttering up” with sunscreen to avoid damage. This ritual gives me a buzz. Rubbing fingers across my chest, stretching my arms up, letting the Pacific ocean splash these beautiful nips.

I’m not one for talking about hating the way my body used to be, but what I feel for it now is definitely love.