BLEACHY KEEN

Fancy seeing you here

 
 

Note to self ♡

Right- this one's a little more serious than the usual sarcastic sha-bang, although I think it's been a long time coming and I rarely talk about personal things {because I'm an emotionless spoon}, but have decided to make a conscious effort to be more open about things that worry me {perhaps in the hopes that at least one other person out there can find some kind of solace in these pointless little (or rather long, should I say) ramblings}. I've got a few other posts in the works at the moment that I want to get out asap, but in light of current events, this one takes priority.


Okie dokie, artichokie.

So, now that International Women's Day has been and gone, all of my social media feeds have gone back to normal and are thoroughly lacking in the positivity that flooded the internet yesterday {more like a few weeks ago because I'm awful at starting posts and finishing them on time}. However, what International Women's Day made me realise was that it's not just my social media accounts that are becoming a more toxic place, but the way I look at my body has changed significantly since coming to university.

Now, any of you that are unfortunate enough to know me personally {sorry for that, by the way} know that most of my clothes resemble a stereotypical grandma's curtains from the 70's- loud, colourful, and often made up of problem patterns and fabrics. Corduroy is my number 1. I've got long corduroy coats, corduroy skirts, corduroy dungarees, corduroy jackets, heck I even had corduroy flares at one point.


You name it, it's sat in my wardrobe.


However, since coming to university I've started to wear the same few outfits over and over simply because they are the ones that make my stomach look the flattest, my waist look the smallest and they help to hide that little round bit at my lower belly that I'm forever sad I have. It wasn't until recently that I asked myself why I was doing this. I've got so many gorgeous things in my wardrobe that I used to show off and now I won't even wear my favourite pink jeans because they don't give me 'enough of a bum'.

So, I sat myself down and made a list of all the things I own that I won't wear. Each reason I gave for not wearing something just resulted in me picking fights with my own body for the way it looks.


After doing this, I cried...a lot.

In this list, I wrote that I refused to wear any skinny jeans because they made my lower belly look too round and 'sticky-out-y' {thank you to my boyfriend for the countless times I've tried on the same pair of skinny jeans and he's told me, in his own funny way, that I look just fine}. I refused to wear any of my dungarees because they made my bum look flat. I wrote that my little black dungarees dress made "my hips look too square and my hip dip [look] too obvious". My waist "doesn't look small enough in my high waisted jeans" but doing my belt up tighter makes my tummy poke out at the top more than I want it to. I even went so far as to sew an extra popper into the seam of one of my button up skirts the other day, just to make it "fit me better."

I stand in my bathroom mirror on a daily basis and check to see how flat my tummy looks. I suck in and turn and squish and poke myself to within an inch of my life. Every photo I take of myself features me sucking my stomach in whilst trying to look as relaxed as possible...and it was only after deciding to sit down and write this post that I realised how scary this all is.

I'm living away from home for the first time in my life, I'm studying on a course that I love, I have a fantastic group of friends, a supportive boyfriend, a loving family, a fascinating {if somewhat time consuming!} hobby, as well as lots of books to read, walks to take, writing to do, and new music to listen to. And yet I choose to stress over the fact that my body isn't "perfect" like I want it to be.


Thinking about all of this {and spending every day for the past few weeks questioning whether or not to post this at all} made me realise that I seem to have lost the body confidence I used to have.


So, I'm posting it, this little note to myself {and to any of you that need it too} to remind myself and all of you {my 2 and a half faithful readers x} that we're pretty fucking {sorry mum x} fab. End of story.


There are definitely still going to be days when you feel horrid and you'll freak out over the pack of bourbons you munched through during the stress of writing your essay or the fact that you're a little softer round the middle than you used to be, but life is too fucking {wow, sorry again mum- twice in one post x} short not to wear a jazzy pair of jeans.

As long as you're happy and healthy then you're on the right track.

Our bodies have carried us through far more than we give them credit for {thanks to mine for not killing me that time i got sepsis xoxo} and so it's time to stop poking them and prodding them and wishing that they looked like someone else's- whether you've got rolls or you haven't, whether you're short or tall, whether you've got a big forehead or a gap tooth or acne...I know for a fact that that doesn't define what kind of person you are.

So, wear the coolest clothes you can find, listen to what your body wants, embrace your tum and thighs and your big ol' forehead n go out there and kick ass.

{thank you for coming to my Ted Talk x}


See you soon, baboons.


p.s unfollow everyone on social media/cut everyone out of your life who doesn't make you feel like the king or queen you are- don't entertain those who don't support you like you deserve to be supported.

p.p.s stay healthy, eat your veggies, drink lots of water, and make sure you water your plants.


all my love x




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