So here it is, April at last, spring at last, still in the 40s, and we don’t mean celsius, but with the occasional balmier afternoon, the occasional patch of sunlight that warms you like a memory of summer; and you know us, we jump on that like kittens on a plump sofa cushion. The first daffodils of the season are out, and the first cherry blossoms, and by god, so are we,

Central Park is starting to turn green, the trampled soil cautiously putting out its first grassy feelers. And with the return of the grass come some of the park’s more curious denizens: the bagpiper, with his mournful tunes; the t-shirted LARPers, Game of Thronesing it up with a pair of foam swords apiece; and the hopeful sunbathers, trying by sheer force of will to make the thermometer read 70. We had no bagpipe, no foam swords. But force of will? We’ve got that to burn.

We visited our old friends, the flowers–

–and the statues by the Columbus Circle fountain.

We dined on french fries from Landmarc across the way–

–and read books by Stephen King.

For no particular reason, we fooled around with a shiny bit of mylar that caught our eyes as it glittered in the foliage.

But mostly we just reveled in the feeling that spring was finally on her way and that life was returning with her. Soon it will be properly warm, and shedding our jackets and shirts won’t require any bravery of a temperature-related variety. And we want to remind our female readers that it shouldn’t require any bravery of any other variety either — men take their tops off in the sun all the time, and it’s every woman’s legal right (in New York, at least) to do the same thing.

Would you like to join us sometime? Especially if it’s your first time exercising your equal rights, doing it with other people might be more comfortable. We welcome first timers and old hands, the eager and the nervous alike. (Trust us, we’re not all equally bold. But we do all like to feel the sun on our chest.)

If you’re an open-minded, body-positive woman, we’d love to hear from you — email us at toplesspulpfiction@gmail.com and we’ll find the sunny spot, and the taste of freedom, that’s right for you.