Let's Talk About Size

I have been thinking for a little while about writing some more personal posts on the blog, you know, something a little more in depth than just ‘look at my sweet op shopped dress/shoes/jacket’ (although they are good too!). The post I wrote about skin care wasn’t particularly  deep but it was a little different to my usual posts and got some great feedback, so I thought I’d try to write a few more. I was really inspired/kicked in to action when I read this post by Carrie from Wishwishwish. Body image and weight and diet and dress size are all very personal issues, but if I’m taking a million selfies and plastering them across the internet, then I should be comfortable enough to talk about those personal issues. So here it goes, let’s talk about size…

I’m 178cm tall and weigh 75 kilos. There it is, out there for all the world to see. I usually wear a size 14, but given I buy my clothing from op shops, the number on the tag can vary greatly. I’ve weighed 75 kilos (give or take a few) for over ten years now, but it’s only been in the last 12 months or so that I’ve actually come to terms with it and felt truly happy with my body. If my weight has stayed the same for over 10 years, then I’m pretty confident that’s just the way it’s meant to be.

Growing up I was never particularly bothered by my body. My best friend and I were the tallest girls in our grade from year 8 to year 12, but while she was a string bean (and still is) I had hips and boobs and a tummy (and still do). I used to wish I was shorter, mostly because I towered over all the boys my age and I desperately wanted a boyfriend, but I’ve definitely grown to love my height (and very much enjoy towering over people now!)

I can’t pin point the moment I started being self-conscious of my larger body, but it must have happened around the time I turned 17. I remember thinking I wish I could just re-size myself in Paint or something, I knew I was well proportioned, but I just hated being bigger than everyone else. This feeling stuck with me for a long time, it was never so intense that I did any real damage to myself, but I definitely tried a myriad of wacky diets and exercise routines over the years. I went through a gym-going phase, a running phase, I started swimming laps every day, attending pump classes, group fitness classes, boxing sessions, gradually everything new I tried grew boring and tedious. But then something miraculous happened, I joined a volleyball club and for the first time in my life I was playing a competitive team sport, and loving it. Going to training and attending games wasn’t a chore, it was never tedious, it was something I looked forward to every week. I’d run around, sweating and laughing, jumping, sliding and passing for two hours straight and not even notice the time fly. I didn’t really lose any weight, but I felt awesome. I stopped weighing myself daily, stopped measuring my hips and waist every week (yeh, I did that) and just came to terms with my appearance.

picture taken by Derek Scales (thank you!!)

Things really hit home when I started playing beach volleyball last summer. For my first real competition I refused to wear the traditional uniform of a crop top and bikini bottoms, opting instead for a singlet and shorts. When my partner and I rocked up at the beach we were the only people not wearing a bikini. Literally every other team was wearing one. There were bodies of all shapes and sizes, from lanky string beans with no hips, to short girls with soft bellies to tall athletic women with rippling six packs and broad shoulders. No one cared, they were there to play sport and they were awesome. I’ve worn a crop and bikini bottoms for every competition since and even though my abs don’t ripple and my butt is dimply I haven’t felt bad about myself once.

I don’t have particularly great self-control especially when it comes to delicious food, so while I do play a lot of sport, I definitely eat too much not-so-great stuff. I love baking (and eating) cakes, I have carbs with every meal, my boyfriend and I order pizza almost once a week and I can never resist a good burger and fries. Twelve months ago I would still eat all  that stuff, but afterwards I’d be so down on myself and go to bed feeling guilty for eating ice cream or bread or cheese. Now I don’t let that happen. I enjoy delicious naughty food and then get on with my life. Sure I could probably lose 10 kilos if I stopped drinking wine every night and swapped pasta for quinoa , but I don’t think being a size 8 is worth it (for me). Good for you if you can survive and enjoy your life on a paleo, organic, gluten free or vegan diet. I can’t and I’m perfectly happy that way.

In saying all this I can promise you that although I generally feel pretty great about the way I look, I definitely have fat days (or bad hair days, awful skin days, I-have-nothing-to-wear days), just like every other girl who ever walked the earth. I don’t ever feel 100% amazing in a bikini, but I’m not going to let that ruin my day in the sun. I’m going to continue to eat cake three times a week and be grateful that my 75 kilo body can run and jump and dance (poorly) and is pretty good at hitting a volleyball.

I’d love to hear your thoughts/comments/feedback on this post. Is it something you enjoyed reading?