Thunder thighs

A Bikini, my worst fear

This week I was trying to think about ways in which being out in nature is so relaxing. On Wednesdays I work with adult women doing forest school. Pretty much regardless of the weather, you see them transformed for spending a few hours in a beautiful arboretum. Tortworth forest centre is a 20 acre site, just 20 minutes from Bristol city centre.

I have always struggled with living bang in the city centre. And I can distil it down to one reason: reflective surfaces. I don’t think of myself as a vain person, but I can’t seem to stop looking at my reflection in the reflective surfaces, and they are EVERYWHERE. Each parked car, each shop window, every house. Behind the counter at the green grocers is a huge, wall wide mirror. Why? I don’t really need to be checking my hair while buying potatoes. And this constant looking at one’s self really does cause a lot of introspection and self loathing.

At the arboretum, one’s mind wanders through natures awesomeness and beauty. You find delight in the small creatures and can often be struck about how little we still know about the world. Do these ancient herbs hold the cure for cancer? And you find yourself child like and playful.

We all have one part of our body which causes huge amounts of self loathing. For me it is my thighs. I can remember being about 14 years old, sitting in assembly, looking down at my thighs and thinking “Why are they so big? Everyone else’s are not like mine.” I have spent a lifetime selecting clothes on their ability to hide them. I curse having to find a wet suit. When at a swimming pool, I practically sprint out the changing room and into the water. I once heard the former president of Italy, Berlesconi describe Angela Merkle as “An un-fuckable bag of lard.” And that is how I feel in a bikini.

But I was recently somewhere with my husband, and he was telling a story from when we were 17. I challenged him to race me up Westbury white horse, probably the steepest hill in the county. He was saying that I beat him, not by a small amount, but by a long way. My husband is probably the most competitive person I know, so he made me do it a second time, and a second time I thrashed him.

This year I completed a challenge which I have wanted to do forever! I had always wanted to complete a triathlon. My aim was to complete it before I turned 30, but I missed that goal. I then moved the goal post to 40. Last January, I realised that my 39th birthday was approaching, and I still had not got my act together. In may I came 47th in the off road triathlon (with paddle boarding rather than swimming) and it was a massive challenge for me.

So when I am suffering with some crippling self hatred, I will try to remember that these thighs get me up mountains, they can run 8 miles and they take me mountain biking, all of which give me so much pleasure in life. Sometimes I need to appreciate them for all their imperfections, and wobbliness, and asymmetricity. I will never love my cellulite. I will still buy A-line dresses and boot cut jeans. I just need to spend more time in nature, away from the reflective surfaces of introspection, and focus on the positives.

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