If there’s one thing that gets on my (far from perfect) tits it’s this notion that women should feel obliged to celebrate their imperfections.
Is it not ok to want to do something about the bits you hate?
I wear leggings to the gym under my shorts because I hate my cellulite and varicose veins; I nearly always opt for a top that stretches to as far as at least my elbow because I have seriously out of proportion flabby upper arms; I’ve worn a bikini on a beach once in my life – ironically in the summer of 2000 when I was at my most miserable with an eating disorder bubbling away in the background. I now always opt for a full piece swimsuit to cover the stretch marks that adorn my middle.
But none of this stops me loving my life.
I leave the gym floating on cloud nine. Basking in sweaty legging glory that I’m one push up closer to doing something about the arms I hate. I’ve felt incredible on the beaches of Thailand, Cayman (above) and Croatia in my one piece. I’ve loved the photos of me and a three quarter sleeve the most – and invariably they’re the ones that made Facebook or a frame in the living room.
I guess the big difference here is I don’t let it get the better of me. Whilst I hate my cellulite, I know it doesn’t make me a worse person. I have fantastic friends that don’t even give it a second thought and a husband that calls me and my pasty white legs ‘The Ghost’. Me and my cellulite have graced some of the most beautiful shorelines of the world. We will continue to go on and do many great things together.
I love looking at other beautiful women. But I guess I’m blessed that it doesn’t become a covet or a desperate longing to be like them. Simply a ‘wow, just look at those arms’ more often than not – especially during Wimbledon!
I totally get that no one wants to be plagued by body imperfections that grind them down but I also think it’s totally fine to be saving for that nip and tuck you’re plotting once you’ve popped out some sprogs.
What are your views on body confidence and loving your worst bits?