I have not the slightest inkling how many times in my life I have wished my thighs more honed, my arms more toned and, as for a flat stomach, that, to me, is simply a thing of legend. It’s simply not going to happen…unless I’m lying down… on my back. But it’s good to have ambition.
I am, though, a child of the seventies. Things have now shifted. Along came the Body Positive lobby and it’s all: love yourself, adore your curves, embrace your quivering parts, admire your wobbles, flaunt it, show it , shake it…”You Do You Girl”. Wooooo! All those in favour raise your hand. 🙋🏽♀️
Well, I’m going to pop my head above the parapet and timidly squeak “objection”.
I’m all for the BP movement (the self acceptance movement, not the multinational oil and gas company) but I fear that things have got a little out of hand. On a rare night out recently I witnessed cocktails being drunk (not shared I hasten to add) by the pitcher (that’s a jug to you and me), burgers that needed scaffolding to climb and chips covered in all manner of food stuffs that would normally constitute 4 additional meals, but it was the quantities… the quantities were simply eye watering. But, people, this cannot be without consequence. You are what you eat the saying goes, although I don’t recall having eaten a bad back and insomnia.
When you glance in the mirror and your thighs are making a bid for freedom via the man made holes in your generously filled jeggings, perhaps have a re think. If your belly top is more the former than the latter then maybe it’s a little TMI for the average passer by. With 6 out of 10 adults being classed as overweight or obese in the uk today and a terrifying 20% of children leaving junior school being classified as obese perhaps our joie de vivre should be curtailed ever so slightly.
There is no need for madness here. No need to go to extremes but just put less stuff in your mouth and move around a load more….dah dah! Easy. I’m an actual genius.