So if you came here for a post about my semi feral but equally lovely kids, you've come to the wrong place, sorry. If you're happy to read my (still slightly drunk) ramblings, then read on.
So in between pondering bellybuttons, reading Cherry Healey-Letters To My Fanny and drinking copious amounts of cocktails (or coctels as the board read, not funny in the slightest but still made me laugh every time), I got thinking. Now bare with me because it may just be ramblings, but I needed to share something amazing that's happened to me recently.
Firstly the mirror in the hotel room was like something out of a fun fair. We don't have a full length mirror at home, I tend to go on how I feel as a rule of thumb. Risky business maybe but I get through the day, and not many people recoil in horror at me. I don't know if this is how I really look or if the Spanish mirror is set up to make people want to book liposuction. Anyway, the first glance at myself was a bit of a shock. I didn't realise I looked like that, so I avoided the mirror swiftly day-by-day. But as I caught myself in it, each day I cared less and less about what I looked like.
On the first day I took my kids to a water park. The old me would have been dreading it, all them people and me in a swimsuit, vulnerable and open to criticism for the disgusting sight I was. But I honestly didn't think about it once, I didn't even think about my body, and wore my dresses and costumes that I would previously have been put off over them "not suiting my figure".
I realised, amongst the copious amounts of sangria and sex on the beach cocktails, I do not care if other people look at me in disgust. I really don't. I realise the problem lays with them. We can not please everyone, and the last way we should look to please others is with our appearance.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I'm 100% happy with my body, there's a few things I'd like to change, for myself. But if I'm comfortable in 37 degree heat in a sundress, then that's what I'm going to wear. If you're disgusted with my appearance, then look elsewhere.
I have housed 5 babies to full term, and am continuing to nourish one with breastfeeding. My body is never going to look how people perceive perfection. Never.
At the end of the day, when I die (sorry to be morbid), no one is going to remember me for my figure. They'll remember me on the amount of memories I built, how much I smiled, and how I didn't let small mindedness bother me. Because that's what judging someone on their size, shape, dress sense etc is. It's small mindedness, and it's sad.
I can see this is slowly changing, I'm amazed my attitude towards my body is changing. But as I get older (ugh) I am realising there is more to life than looking good in a skin tight dress-who makes the rules on what looks "good" anyway?
Oh and my kids had an amazing time, and I'm gutted to be home, in real clothes.
*goes and books next years holiday*