I’ve just spent the last week sunning it up in Fiji.
Dimply butt and chaffing thighs on full display. And I simply don’t care.
While I do admire the toned mums on the beach and think to myself ‘I should probably eat less and do more exercise’, the thought is instantly replaced by the fact of I simply don’t care enough.
I’m unsure if it’s being diagnosed with Cancer that’s solidified that sentiment or if it’s the simple fact there are more important things in life, the thought remains the same. When it comes to rocking toned thighs and a set of toned abs I just don’t give a damn!
You see when I stand back and look at myself what have I really got going on?
For starters I’m minus a nipple (cancer took care of that one), my left breast is actually my back (thanks to modern medicine), my back in the words of a South African nurse, “resembles that of a shark attack victim” (once again you can thank the Big C for that one!), I have a lump in my left armpit due to lymph nodes being removed and a muscle being twisted (on purpose) during the reconstruction. And let’s not forget the jiggly stomach I thank the kids for. Naked, it’s a big old mess!
And I don’t give a rats monkeys!
For all the flaws and scars the body has (whether through cancer or otherwise) or how perfect and toned you might be at the end of the day it changes nothing. Either way I’m still going to be the same opinionated, stubborn pain in the butt with a husband and four kids who think I’m pretty rad. What else do I need?
So I’m going to drink my glass of Lindauer (I’m not too fancy for a glass of cheap bubbles) and eat my bowl of fries and aioli and enjoy it. Who bloody knows what tomorrow brings but I for one am not going to spend it worrying about the size on my jeans or my top or my dress or anything else for that matter.
In the wise words of Roald Dahl “You can a wonky nose and a crooked mouth and a double chin and stick-out teeth, but if you have good thoughts it will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely.”
Miss Lolo xx