Applying sun screen for 11 days has forced me to be honest about how my body looks. Generally I'm not one for short sleeves, skirts or tight fitting clothes but in a break from Mumsy tradition I've opted for bikinis during our trip to Spain. One has a tiny half, the other a skimpy top. They're not at all me - far too much flesh on show. Like many women I'm not hugely confident about the way I look and yes I know I could exercise more, eat less, blah blah blah but honestly I don't want to. If I exercise I want to do it because it makes me feel good not have it linked to weigh-ins and inches lost. Plus I like my food. A lot.
I've had plenty of time to reflect on the way I feel about my appearance and it's time I started to view things a little differently.
I'm short. People love to tell me this. Like I hadn't noticed. "What? Am I? I had no idea. I thought everyone else was wearing stilts/standing on steps." When I was a kid I was told I probably wouldn't grow beyond 4'11". I'm 5'2". I'll take that as a win. Plus being small means I can sit anywhere (cinema, theatre, plane) without feeling too cramped. It's not all bad.
I don't have a six pack. Unless you count the San Miguel or the Coke Zeros in the fridge. Some people claim they do - it's simply hiding. Mine isn't. I think I left it somewhere back in the '90s. Actually I know exactly where it is - Anvin - crushed by the weight of too much Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Nutella and crisps. One glorious week spent eating, drinking, reading and sleeping. Laughing with Will and two very dear friends as we made memories that are now part of our personal lore: Monsieur Darkness, Titi and Hesdin. That top trumps a six pack any day of the week.
I have dimples. One on my left cheek and too many to count on my thighs. After the Anvin trip and a recalibration of what would become my natural weight I wholeheartedly embraced the hedonism of London/pre children life and ate/drank my way from North to South, East to West. A dining club with friends took us around the country to some of the best restaurants the UK has to offer. I spent Sunday mornings reading the papers, eating bacon sandwiches and drinking good coffee. Barely a week passed when I didn't have tickets for a show, a play or the cinema. Years and years spent perfecting the imperfect thighs that I have today and this holiday I've covered them up less and enjoyed myself more.
Big boobs aren't all they're cracked up to be. Stop it! Try buying an off the peg bikini when you need the equivalent of a 34DD matched with size 10 pants. The comedic value alone of trying them on is worth it - either I end up with too much side boob or run the risk of my pants falling down as I take my first step towards the pool. And that's before we encounter the ridiculous differences in sizing charts across retailers. I've spent my trip in one old faithful and one new one. Sometimes mismatching the tops and bottoms and accepting that my top heavy shape is what it is.
Lines. I must not worry about my lines. I must not worry about my lines. On my face. My neck. My hands. A tan is apparently the worst thing for advancing the ageing process. I no longer care. With a tan I can travel home in white jeans and a light coloured top; yes it will no doubt be raining but I'll be golden and glowing for a few weeks at least and I've already curated a very impressive scarf collection.
Scarred for life. My c-section scar. It gave me Bea. Need I say more?
There we have it. I have a body, I'm confident of that. In support of helping all those younger men and women who struggle because they don't feel perfect I'm embracing the way I look because it's what makes me, well me. Not the way I look. The way I think about it. Like my mind it has its flaws and imperfections but it also has aspects to be admired.
If I can find a positive in areas that others might see as negative that's a good thing right. Next time you see me in a skirt that reveals a bit too much thigh or a top that shows my arms may soon be ready for a night at Gala Bingo, remember many happy events have led me to this point. My body can change. So can my attitude towards it.
