Bruno Mars and Mark Darcy have both said it in different ways but its the same principle ‘…. just the way you are.’
In a time where the best selling cookery books are now rammed full of flack seeds with cauliflower rice and bone broth dribbling out the sides, YouTube stars perfect the cat eye in under 2 minutes (sorcery) and Gwyneth P is telling us to now steam out our lady gardens, how the HELL is anyone supposed to stay body positive?
Do you remember when you were younger and your teen magazine taught you how to make choc chip muffins, have the perfect sleepover and perfect your braid?
Well now they tell us how to perfect Kale & Cauliflower Smoothies, train your arse to crack walnuts in ‘Under 6 weeks’ and can also assist in how to spend 60 odd quid on yoga pants that quite frankly become better mates with your sofa then they ever will your yoga mat.
… if I wanted that, I’d buy a Fitness magazine or join CrossFit.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m all for getting a sweat on (dirty mind), getting me some avocado on toast (love that shit) and perhaps investing in a good pair of trainers. But sometimes, I just have to have what I call a Yes Day. Which consists of the following:
-Yes, I’m having a blueberry muffin for breakfast
-Yes, I’ll have normal fucking milk over skimmed soya shite in my latte
-Yes, I will join you in raiding the left over buffet after that very important directors meeting
-Yes boy, we can have a Maccies for dinner because I can’t be bothered to cook
-Yes, I look damn fine in this dress despite knowing I’ve put on an extra 5 pounds since I lost wore it
-Yes boy, I am walking round naked in my house despite the greasy hair and stubbly legs- its my sodding house and I’m feeling goooood
And so on and so forth.
Most of the time, I am incredibly good with calorie counting and throwing in a bit of exercise. And I had to train myself over the last 18 months to get there. Because, quite frankly before that, on the food front at least, every day was a Yes day, ifyouknowwhati’msaying
And I love a good healthy recipe that actually tastes good and not like grass.
But I also love chocolate, I love my rather rotund arse and my slight batwings are not the end of the world.
So you do you.
Because lets face out- there’s no-one else like it.