Every year as boots make way in my cupboard for flip-flops I promise myself that by the time bikini season rolls around I would have gotten rid of the extra rolls around my mid-section. Every year, as I put a dent in my bank balance by stocking up on new workout gear and protein shakes, I promise myself that the hail damage on my thighs will not still be creeping out the sides of my cozzie by December...
And every year as I subject myself to bikini shopping (in changing rooms with mirrors covering every angle and showering me in the meanest light possible) only to find that once again I have failed to get 'bikini-ready.'
The difference this year? I have to be on a cruise ship for ten days with 2,999 other people in bathing suits, 1,499 of whom are bound to be women in bikinis... and at least 499 of whom are bound to be under 21 and firmer than a brand new Sealy Posteurpedic mattress. My 'new and improved' (wish I'd thought of it years ago) strategy? I'm not gonna let the Sandton stick insects or the taut, toned, tanned tummies on magazine covers get to me. I'm actually going to be nice to my body and....
•feel proud of its accomplishments this year – it took up road running, only took one sick day off work, danced often, rested enough and managed to hold a rather odd squatting position over many paintings 'under construction';
•appreciate its all-round functionality – it works, day in and day out, my heart keeps pumping, my blood keeps flowing and my brain keeps managing to absorb more useless E!News information than should be humanly possible;
•be thankful for the two arms, two legs and opposing thumbs that God gave me;
•celebrate when I need a bigger bikini top than I thought – after all, there are lots of women who pay good money to go up a cup size.
•forget about my rear-view's flaws and give my butt credit for surviving two spinning classes a week for the past few months;
•smile at myself in the mirror instead of frowning at the problem areas (like the recurring patch of blackheads that have taken residence on my chin and refuse to vacate) I figure the sooner I stop frowning at myself, the longer I'll postpone the inevitable creases on my forehead;
•take hold of my love handles and remember fondly the evenings of good wine, good friends and really good food that put them there;
•love the package I've got cos this is as good as it gets. Things have started to head south so best I appreciate how northward they are right now.
I suggest that you take a good, long look in the mirror... put on your prettiest lingerie and embrace the fact that "comparing yourself to others will only make you envious or vain – neither of which is an attractive characteristic." That said, I'm off to get a wax, investigate a spray tan and go buy a fab new bikini that highlights the 'good as it's gonna get' stuff and ensures that my curves detract attention from the speed bumps.
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