Ah, yes. We love spring not only for the breathtaking beauty that bursts forth from earth, sea, and sky, but because it’s the prelude to summer, which means even warmer weather, beaches and (horrors!) bikinis.
I’m a firm believer that women should wear whatever they damn well please, no matter their height, body weight or size. If you’re six feet tall, wear those stilettos baby, if you’re built like a brick shit-house, expose your ample cleavage and bare those thighs.
Have you ever gone to a beach in Spain or the South of France? Europeans know how to proudly strut their stuff, and I mean stuff. It’s wonderful to see all the bulges and curves and protruding guts. I only wish it were that easy here in North America where sadly we judge ourselves and one another under a microscope. It doesn’t help that every magazine or advertisement boasts Hollywood starlets and teenage models that look half starved, setting a ridiculous and unrealistic standard for all women.
Meanwhile I’m on a new cleanse. The idea is that it’s not a diet (ha!) but a new way of eating. Why am I doing this? Fuck if I know.