The days when confidence exuded me, coupled with a crop top to match. 

Some days I wish I was 20 again, where did all that confidence go? 
I used to be less in shape than what I am today and would of taken over the world in a crop top and white pants. (I actually have photo evidence of a crop top, white pants and blue eyeshadow. For the ones that do know me well, know my distaste for blue eyeshadow)

I would walk around in a body, 10+ extra kgs heavier and think nothing of it. I even remember applying for a second job once, as a promo model (I was 18 & thought I may possess the qualities to potentially be a head turner) and was declined, as my size was a little on the bigger than they were hoping for.

I think I cried about it for an hour, digested my daily overindulgence of a McDonalds Fillet O Fish Meal (Gees I miss those chemical bleached white fish days) and then went out drinking, so it didn’t affect my confidence back then much. Probably one of the best rejections I had, now I look back.

Current situation, I’m all G with how I look (referenced right here) but there’s always a BUT. What is it with the female psyche and our internal hang ups about ourselves? Why do we crave our ideals of perfection or look to change certain aesthetics of ourselves?

Wether it be our face at the local laser clinic, a bit of Botox here, filler here or some laser to even out our complexion. Hustling in the gym for a bigger booty, toned arms or visible v line so you can rock that new summer body. Or how we present ourselves, picking up a designer piece of clothing, shopping when you’re feeling less than adequate or buying those 3 inch heels because you know, being taller makes you look slimmer.

It got me thinking about all of these hang ups because I brought a one piece this week (swimwear baby) I wanted to wear something on those days I refuse to put on a bikini and tuck away my non existent abs (I’ve come to accept this) from the human eye. Firstly, some of the one pieces are downright ugly – I’m an E cup huni and I’m sure not everyone needs to see my side boob, I’m proud of my small perky ass and why do these one pieces make it as flat as a pancake? And you’ve got to be kidding me – floral print, nana style?

Well I settled on one finally, after 3 weeks of endless searching and I’m happy with it – I don’t look like a middle aged woman on a family cruise and more like the 33 year old extremist I am, that’s about to sip a pina colada poolside with an array of fabulous friends.

But still, why do I care if my stomach is covered or not? Why do I feel proud of my body but there’s still days I’d rather admit myself into quarantine? And I still have 2 perfectly good bikinis at home but I needed an alternative for my off days?

Maybe I care more about how I present myself these days (farewell to the denim mini skirt and fur ugg boots of the early 2000’s), maybe I realized 33 year old me is 33 (20 year old me gave zero f*cks and is it a thing to try to act your age?) or I subconsciously still have a complex over my current body situation…

Maybe it’s that things don’t sit the way they used to (or look), or that if I could turn back time I’d take better care of the younger more vivacious version of moi. Who knows, I’m a healthy size 10 and I don’t let the number on the scales or the size on the back of my pants, define who I am. I just seek improvement based on ‘how I’m feeling’ energy, how my clothes feel and how my skin looks.

And after all of this insight into how my thoughts are ticking away, I went to my first yoga class in about 4 years this morning. Not only did I feel reenergized as I left, I suddenly didn’t care about all of these above mentioned points and I left feeling bloody amazing! (Yoga is definitely going to be 1 of my new 2017 addictions, I can feel it. Back to giving zero f*cks)

My point is, most girls I know want to change something. The ones that tell you they don’t are lying and the ones that do, at least they’re honest.

In search of beauty? I’m still working on it.

K X 

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