Hey my gorgeous fancy faces!
Casual reminder that you deserve the best things that life has to offer because you are lit af, you look like Christmas and you smell like sunshine! I wanna thank all of you who have joined my mailing list, the response has been overwhelmingly dope. You guys are *50 cent voice* my inspiration. You're my motivation. You're the reason that I'm moving it with no hesitation...
Side note: You see Power yeah….I just need Ghost to give Tariq a solid clap in the head, one time. Just one good, solid, knock-your-eye-crooked clap. One time.
This August were sticking with the body confidence theme to get you glowing up from the inside out, because self-love is the G.O.A.T (don’t forget you still have until the end of the month to take part in my August #WearItChallenge).
Here’s a common scenario for a lot of us plush pals; we get in front of a mirror, we look at what we deem our problem areas, then for some peculiar reason we poke/grab/squeeze it and frown, then find some way to suck or tuck it in to get an idea of what our bodies would look like if the shit wasn't there. Then after we’ve had our sneak peak of what we could be if ASDA would just stop doing special offers on Ben & Jerrys ice cream (damn you willpower!), we let it fall back into place to be even more disappointed in ourselves than we were to start off with. It's long and aside from that, it's not healthy. Why do we prod and poke at our jiggly bits so disapprovingly? I mean aside from the obvious -that we would like them to be more or less (insert word here) -they're still a part of our body. These parts still make up us. We even do the shit when we're with each other, but on top of the prodding and poking, we become vocal about it, "My ____ looks horrible,” “I need to get rid of these _____" *grabs offensive body part in disgust *. What kind of way is that for us to treat ourselves? Standing in the mirror and pointing out everything that's ‘wrong’ with us, handling and speaking to ourselves in ways that we would hate another person to do to us (because if someone else did it, we’d be ready to let them catch allllllllll these hands).
One day I stumbled across a great solution to stop all that self-hate and as we’re such good, good girlfriends, I thought that maybe this is something that could work for you too, betch.
It's not the easiest and it does take some getting used to, but I've found it maaaad effective in terms of normalising my perception of myself. On the days that I can't be fucked to go to the gym, I do Zumba workouts in my room in front of my completely ostentatious mirror, in a sports bra and knickers, and hooker, it’s the fucking best! I came across this gem of a self-love training method out of sheer frustration.
In the summertime my room is the same temperature as I imagine hell is, and one day while I was working out, there was no breeze and I was basically dying a thousand deaths…(no YOU’RE dramatic!). I ripped off my top and leggings because I couldn’t take all that fabric sticking to my sweaty body, just making a bad situation worse.
The first glance in the mirror with my tummy hanging over the waistband of my knickers, my gazillion stretch marks, fat rolls and thigh flab...hooker, let’s just say it wasn't one of the greatest moments of my life, but I was hot as shit and a bitch had a workout to complete, so I just said ‘fuck it’ and got on with it.
The first few minutes of watching my fat fly around whenever I moved made me feel like crap. All I could think was, ‘How did I let my body get like this?’
After a few more minutes, I clocked that it actually wasn’t as bad as I thought it was.
Now if you've done Zumba before, you'll know that there's a shit tonne of sex appeal in their dance moves, so while I'm shaking my...well…everything, what I saw started growing on me.
It ended up being an unlikely win because I realised that my body wasn't as terrible as I thought, and honestly, a heaux felt sexy as shit! I’m talking all of that ‘I am divine feminine’ shit. Getting used to how my moving body looked outside of clothes made me more carefree with every swish of my hip, squat and bum flick. The other plus was, my unfiltered jiggling for justice made me push myself harder. I was working out, my confidence was blossoming, and the more I did it, the more at ease in my skin I felt, so I stuck with it. I’m a lot less concerned with my lumps and bumps now, which is great because I plan on looking like an inappropriate glitter slut at carnival this weekend (I'm jumping with Jus Jab, so if you see me on di road let's catch a whine together).
Give getting naked a go and lemme know how you find it.
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Fancy something a little more daring? Read chapters 1-9 of my sexy, award-winning urban romance, Running Wilde (new chapter posted every Friday)
Until next time, fancy face
Love Scotty x