Lookin' Good!

Lucky me. I’m sitting here in what can only be described as paradise. Seriously this place looks photo shopped. I’m surrounded by the most stunningly beautiful beaches ever created, and lush greenery whose brilliance can’t even be captured on film. All the while the soft breeze being seductively coaxed from the immeasurably still waters is gently kissing my face. The pillow-soft mattress on my double bed in the sand has proved to be a reliable base from which to nap, work and observe. Though I could easily stare open-mouthed out to sea every day I’m also surrounded by other, more familiar scenery. That of women and men in their swimming gear.

All sizes and shapes are represented here: all colors; from the darkest purple black to the brightest magenta. This place is a human swatch that Dulux would be envious of. As I lay here still fresh in my whitish blueness I can’t help but wonder that if I’m watching them, who’s watching me?

I think most people know that I have an above average body confidence level. That’s not to say I expose my body and flaunt it, but I know how to dress for my shape and never apologize for the cellulite on my thighs. I have to admit I am pleased with the amount of other seemingly body confident women on this island. I think as women we spend far too much time telling other people how unhappy we are with our bodies, but really, we like them just fine and are happy to unpack our bodies once far out of the eye line of out nearest and dearest. Why is it not ok for us as women to tell other people, especially women that we like our bodies?

I remember very vividly being in Thailand with a friend and the conversation turned to what physical attributes about ourselves we would change. Now this is always an incredibly boring, and at times it would appear infuriating conversation to have with me because my answer has always been the same. “Nothing.” On this occasion my answer was met with an incredulous stare and garnered the response “Nothing?! Wooooow!”  Said with bite. Then she quickly gave me the once over and sighed in that overly-judgmental way people do when they don’t want to say anything mean, but not saying anything is always meaner. 

Now I’m no Samantha Brick. I’d never claim that I am incredibly attractive or that my physical appearance has won me loads of admirers and gifts. It hasn’t. But that’s not what real beauty is about to me. I don’t measure my attractiveness on anyone else’s scale but my own. And I’m doing just fine. As women we are always comparing ourselves to others or obsessing over a tiny imperfection that only we can see. I say we stop. You look good, girl. I look good. Let’s all look good together and stop coveting other’s noses and placing values on out appearances rather than our intellects. Why is it that if someone called you stupid it would hurt so much less than if he or she called you ugly? You’re not ugly, so why does that word always make women turn inwards on themselves? 

I recall a very long time ago when I was just 20 and in a fight with my friend’s boyfriend about the way he was treating her. He ran out of defenses so he decided to call me “ugly”. I just laughed in his face and said, “Come on, now. We both know that’s not true. You can do better.” I might as well have slapped him. He then said that it must be great to be me because no one could call me ugly. I told him that “people can say it all they like, but that doesn’t make it true”.

Ladies, it’s OK to admit that you like the way you look. You don’t need to qualify that statement with “but, I’d like to lose some weight.” Or, “I’d look better if…” That kind of shit is really boring. If you allow yourself the one little luxury of admitting you’re pretty you’ll feel good too. Life can be incredibly difficult and challenging. Why must we make it tougher by being so damn hard on ourselves? I had 12 pieces of bacon for breakfast, 2 waffles and champagne and I’m still sat here in my bikini. Guess what? I look pretty badass.