Traditionally, this is a time of year when I hate my body. Swimwear, little summer dresses and shorts take no prisoners and, the truth is, the body I now have at the age of 32 after growing two babies, is very different from the one I had ten years earlier. However, over the weekend something changed. I didn’t lose any weight or suddenly tone up all my wobbly bits, I just gained a bit of insight. There was a lightbulb moment and, I guess, I just stopped caring so bloody much. In short, I got a grip.
The moment came when I saw a photo on my phone that the NLM had taken of me and the girls at the weekend. When I came across it my instant reaction was to delete it. (To be honest, that’s often my instant reaction with most photos of myself. I’d say 90% of the pics of me never make it past my trigger happy delete finger.) But as my thumb hovered above that little trash can icon I paused; I took a closer look at the photo and realised I didn’t hate it all that much. In fact, I actually kind of love it.
Look at the photo above and tell me what you see.
I’ll tell what I saw when I first looked at it: untoned thighs, a very ordinary and non-Instagrammable size 12 Mum Bum, the slightest hint of shadow of an overly protruding vein at the back of my knee (thanks pregnancy!), a little roll of back fat and a pair of rapidly developing bingo wings. [Read More…]Follow