Let’s Get Naked

Sara Bran Running Free

I’m totally about to run naked and free… honest.

Let’s get naked.

These words, at one time, would not have caused me too much fuss. I have lived in California baby, oh yes, and experienced my fair share of communal hot tubs. (The story of the hot tub, the floating cucumber and the Elvis glasses is a whole other blog post). But these days, the way I feel about getting naked or even wearing a swim suit is quite similar to how I would feel if someone offered me some pins to stick in my eyes.

When, oh when did this happen?  Okay, so I resemble a clove-pitted ham in my M&S briefs, but I call myself a feminist for flip’s sake. Moi sans clothing just ain’t what it used to be, but mind you, nor is Radio One. Why aren’t I walking my big fat talk? My own poor sense of body image irritates the hell out of me, so I have been in search of a remedy for a condition I call Noddy Horror.

As a result of my extensive research, I can offer the following to you, my fellow dreader-of-the-beach:

1. Be honest, do you really want to work that hard?

It has been good to realise that most of my friends who look holy-moly-awesome-fab in the body department work hard at it. Like, really hard. Like, more than I would ever want to work hard at anything except perhaps my marriage to Ryan Gosling. They have also not had children, and are wealthy or time rich, or both.  They prioritise fitness, I prioritise observing the fitness of others (mainly the male tennis players at Wimbledon).

2. Make a note of the practical benefits

I now consider it useful that I can keep spare change in the cavernous crevices of my cellulite. I for one will never find myself without £1 for the parking meter, no siree!  Also, if I am on a large ship and we hit an iceberg and are plunged into unforgiving freezing waters, I’m far more likely to survive due to my padding. Also, my breasts will totes help me float. Others may even be able to use me as some sort of raft thus making me actually quite heroic.

3. Get some perspective

I have stopped looking at magazines/TV/adverts that suggest I need to ‘get my beach body ready’ and begun to appreciate the fact that I have two arms, two legs and a functioning brain. Seriously, what right do I have to bemoan my wibbles when I a) can’t be arsed to do more than a paltry sun salute every now and then and b) am lucky enough to still have all my bits and wits?

4. Take a look at the real people

The greatest antidote to Noddy Horror is to go to your local swimming pool and take a look around, take a long, cold, hard look around. See the normal people? See the pitted, chthonian, Jabba-mass of humanity and remember, it’s not us, it’s them. It’s the freak show going on in the halls of Conde Nast that is ugly; them with their airbrushes and their banquets of lettuce, cocaine and Camel Lights.

So, you know, let’s run free, run naked, let’s let it all hang out this summer people.  Please don’t leave me alone in this or I’ll be arrested.

4 thoughts on “Let’s Get Naked

  1. Besides books, the only thing I read is what’s on my WP Reader, no fashion or health stuff, I already have an ailing self-esteem to put myself through that…I have resorted to measure me against my previous self, And I don’t even go far back in time to find my ideal self, I go back a few months, before my 41st, that is my reference one that has proven hard to achieve, specially due to the fact that I inadvertently lost weight because of some terrible emotional turmoil I was going through, now, I’m better emotionally and rounder physically… Can I walk naked behind everyone else? , I’m afraid I may trip and run you over :/ read you soon, Alexandra

  2. Love this. Totally made my day and dulled the guilt of baking brownies and eating half the pan like a woman possessed.

  3. Long live the maxi dress, kaftan and if all else fails, oversized tote bag stuffed full of betty crocker cake mix – any of these will hide mum-tums or as my daughter calls it – mummy’s envelope flap!

  4. I am happy with my jabba-genes. The thing is The Pendulati (my dangling rack) are quite simply happy. Not perky. Just happy. And if they are happy. I am happy. I ate the best slice of Hummingbird cake at the local cafe today. Thank you for freeing me S Bran, my cellulite needs a damn good airing. Sod the neighbours – I’m doing this is my back garden! X.

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