I first noticed it a few summers ago when I was 34. It was a blazing hot day, the kind where they urge you to take water bottles on public transport, and I threw on some clothes before I went into the city.I stepped into a pair of short denim cut-offs and a strappy top. But, as I took in my reflection in the hallway mirror, and the large amounts of skin on show, I stopped. 'That's weird,' I told my husband. 'I've just realised I've not been catcalled all summer.''Isn't that a good thing?' he replied.
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