The human body: functional, beautiful, natural and full of life I get it. We should all be proud of the skin on our back, the fat on our bones, funbags, hairy legs, the lot. However, my first time on a nude beach this Summer surpassed my tolerance of nakedness.

I cannot and would not shame those who are comfortable with public nudity. But I think I can safely say that it is not the life for me. We sat at lunch and overlooked the hundreds of bare bums, willies, and boobs and ate, and with each squelchy tomato from my salad, my nausea increased.

It may sound nice, looking out onto a sight like this, surrounded by the body parts that some of us only see when we get lucky. However, now try and picture your grandparents, frolicking through beach waves in their birthday suits, baring all to their children and grandchildren, and you may find your perception of them changing. While watching an entire family have a naked picnic, I wondered whether, after a meal like this, I could ever view my grandmother the same again.

My grandmother is a graceful and beautiful woman, a woman who has aged impeccably and one whom I obviously respect as one of my most important superiors. I can't help but think that if I saw her running around a beach naked I would no longer be able to look her in the eye, take her advice, or accept a cup of tea from her. One could argue that I'd get used to it eventually, but there are some boobs I believe you cannot unsee.

Another argument I have against my own public nudity is the huge importance of sexual energy in relationships. If nudity is a common occurrence, and if your nakedness is shared with more than just your partner, I feel that it loses its novelty. Not that I'm anything particularly special, but my nakedness must be earned by a man, and is something I only allow once I feel close to someone; safe, secure and happy. Does this make me uptight? Traditional? I don't think so! I am a strong and confident young woman whose body belongs to me and one other person on this planet.

I will stress that I do not judge others for enjoying the freedom of a nude beach, but that I simply do not care to enjoy it with them, and feel that I should not be judged for this choice either. Growing up with brothers has meant that I have been incessantly teased; for the first time, I had a visible bra strap, for the products in the family bathroom, for leaving a leg shave a few days too late. While good for me, lighthearted and character-building, this teasing had resulted in a separation between nakedness and comfort as I am waiting to be told I am flat chested and look like a troll. This disconnect means that, for me, a nude beach is not relaxing, as I cast my eyes down in embarrassment when a 70-year-old man walks past me, bits a-swinging.