Usually my post box is full of bills, junk mail that snuck in under the “NO JUNK MAIL” sign, and snails.
Instead, yesterday I received a rather nice pair of undies, silky, black and a size smaller than I’m used to. And that is the point. I am a size smaller than I used to be. I just didn’t get around to acknowledging it to myself in a useful kind of way.
Body image is so fraught. Find me a woman, or probably a man for that matter without body image issues, and I’ll eat my panties.
I have been many sizes in my life:
gawky angular adolescent
emerging round-cheeked young woman
skinny unhealthy school student
leaner exercise obsessed university student
resplendent mother x1
post motherhood frazzled skinny
relationship breakdown comfort food chunky
reclaim healthy and happy body
and now Mother x2 (Pretty happy with this one!)
I have roller-coasted the scales from size 8 to nudging size 18. I am currently sitting at a comfortable and flattering size 12-14. I have been culling my wardrobe in stages for months now. I keep shedding things that I don’t wear because they are my fat clothes or pregnancy clothes or I bought them when I was bigger than I thought. I always try on a 14 first. No matter what size I actually am. Old habits die hard.
Audit your wardrobe now. Get rid of the pretenders in there. Dress to be your authentic self.
We so often want to be someone we are not. Colin Thompson has a marvellous book called ‘The Short and Incredibly Happy Life of Riley’. The story-line goes ‘People look in the mirror and get very depressed. They want to be taller-shorter-thinner-here-but much-bigger-there-curly-straight-younger-older-less-spotty–moustache-smooth-skin-golden-sun-tan-gorgeous-irresistible-not bald-and famous-in-a-painting’. The rat Riley, didn’t think anything, he was simply himself.
When we are pretending it just doesn’t work.
Whether you’re a voluptuous Venus, Luscious Lilith or a Bountiful Boadecia dress to suit your true self.
And make sure your panties fit nice.