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Loving the skin you're in

 

My boyfriend showed this video to me in bed the other night, and after it finished I was in tears and he smiled and said 'you don't see who you really are'. That got me thinking, no I'm not going to start Carrie Bradshaw style asking ridiculous rhetorical questions, but we as women are really quite hard on ourselves. The simple act of describing our face to a stranger does not marry up with how that stranger would necessarily describe us.

Yet we're becoming a society who take 'selfies' and send 'sexts', we are giving away our bodies soo freely these days thanks to the internet. It's this perpetual contradiction that we take photos of ourselves and yet can meet a stranger and struggle to say one positive thing about our physical selves.

I've struggled with my body image all my life. I am still struggling. I have never met a woman who is  100% happy with herself and I don't blame the media, I see it more that we don't promote a healthy outlook on our bodies within society from a young age. Mum better not be reading this, but daughters don't grow up being told to love themselves, instead mothers take the chocolate bars away and furrow their brows. Words like diet and weight creep into everyday language as that little girl creeps towards tenuous teenagedom. There's suddenly this sense of urgency that she'll become a hefty teen, life will be difficult for her, the other kids will pick on her because she's heavier.

Life will always be difficult, instilling a sense of foreboding about body image at the tender age of 11, 12, 13 and beyond isn't going to help. We need to teach our daughters to love themselves. Then teach them to make better choices, involve them in cooking, make them do at least one kind of sports or regular exercise from an early age. Basically, encourage being healthy to be happy over being thin to fit in.

It is my sincere hope that this generation of women, who have grown up with slut marches, fat shaming, thin privelege and rise of the plus size modelling world will go on to raise their daughters to love themselves first and appreciate being healthy second. Loving the skin you're in should be a given.

Lets talk about boobs


Whoever said sexism is dead needs a slap in the face. I narrowly avoided a fine on the tram this morning because of these babies, how easily distracted the inspector was is entirely beside the point. What is, is the fact that there is no getting away from these bad boys. Figuratively or literally.

I don't show cleavage. Ever. And yet I receive a frustrating amount of attention because of them, sometimes this is to my advantage & other times it is not. Memorable moments born from my chest include the second day of my PR internship where I was asked to interview the other ladies of the office about their boobs because I had 'such...confidence'. Right. I had a laugh and it certainly broke the ice! Yet I am not alone in my struggle to deal daily with the trouble they cause. In fact I was told recently of a party a friend threw to celebrate her impending breast reduction where the only pre-requisite was to 'get them out'. More of this I say! Obviously in the privacy of our own girl nights, but really let's talk about boobs! 

Why is it we only feel the topic can be openly discussed if a man brings it up or a women admits that she has fake ones? Why don't we talk about it as openly as we do back fat or the thigh gap? Both, I hasten to add, are a representation of everything that is wrong with female body image and chat today. Why can't we talk about the fact that it is entirely normal for boobs to come in all different shapes and sizes and that they move and don't sit directly below your neck. Sorry boys.

One argument is that because breasts have become so objectified and sexualised it is impossible to separate them from sex. All connotations arising from conversation around breasts become instantly sexual, unless there's an infant involved in which case get me outta here. (An appropriate response for any 22 year old). We don't simply say 'I like the way they lie when I lie flat,' or 'mine are pointed'. We talk openly about the width of our stomachs or the lumpiness of our thighs, but for some reason we cannot get off our chests what is on them!

We always want what we can't have. In truth I plan to come back in my next life as a size 6 giant with those breasts whose nipples face skywards just so I can wear a crochet bikini. I will never be or do any of those things. Alot of women resent their breasts because of the sexualisation they bring to the table. It's like being tall or being short or having curly hair. you can't do anything about it except in the extreme. The reality is that they enter a room before you do regardless, so talk about them, have some boob pride. 

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