God Bless her.

This morning my youngling discovered that genes are not just a trouser.

My usual morning routine was sharply interrupted by her anguished cries emanating from the bathroom and on entering I discovered my littlest one with school skirt wedged ¾ up her legs, seemingly unable to advance it any further.

As an expert in the field, I was thoroughly confident in my advice “squeeze your butt cheeks in, grab the hem of your skirt and pull upwards”. I turned on my heel and left secure in the knowledge that this would work a treat.

She was mightily impressed at my level of skill.

Our daughter’s physique is a thing of great beauty and she knows that her ample backside and robust thighs are just how she is made up; just as are the million freckles on her face and the colour of her eyes. It was evident from an early age that she had inherited my physique and we have never attempted to dupe her into thinking she is anything else but who she is. I’m proud that she is accepting of her body and, despite only being a decade in, I am hopeful that her body positivity will stay with her for life. I banned the F word* a long time ago but still it seeps in here and there. Calling someone fat or ugly will never go unchallenged in our house. We are all different.

We, more now than ever, are under attack. A 24/7 deluge of images: perfect faces, beautiful bodies and fabulous lifestyles coming at us from every angle…all just trying to get us to spend more and more money so we too can look “perfect”.

When I was young my only main point of reference when it came to looks was Smash Hits and I could rock the Bananarama image like a boss – clothes from the market and unkempt curls? No problemo. Bad dancing? I was on point. Now however the look to achieve requires 1 inch thick fake lashes, 2 inch long fake nails, 3 inch thick makeup, a 4 inch waist with an arse like a basketball (high five to my gene pool there), oh and for god’s sake don’t be born with thin lips…but, hey, if you are lacking in any way, fear not, you can buy perfection at the click of a button. Tah dah… instant happiness.

Alas, it doesn’t work that way, and this is what we have tried to instil into our daughters; you have to be happy in your own skin or you will never truly be content. The pictures we see are all extensions and enhancements, filters and fillers. It’s not a look so much as an optical illusion.

You are who you are.

My Moto: eat well, move around, brush your teeth and be kind.

* The word fat. I tried to ban the other F word, but Rock broke the rules 9 times prior to breakfast so it was futile. **

** You may use the f word if appropriate. PC it may not be but if you are weighing in at 30 stone and need a winch to get out of bed the word “bigger” no longer applies. Soz.

By Kim Hawley

I’m a mum ... 48 years on our glorious planet and I have got some stuff to get of my chest!

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