A couple of weeks ago, I returned from Europe. It was a spur of the moment thing. I was sat on the couch looking at the rain outside my window. It was August and my house renovations were pretty much finished. I needed out. The boys needed out. I had been lucky enough to go to Greece but the boys stayed in Manchester. It wasn’t a bad thing. We all had a great time in our respective places, but I felt that they needed to get away. They had never been to Europe (minus 3 days in Disneyland Paris and even then it was December) So, looking at the rain with laptop in my lap, I searched for last minute holidays.

I was ready to just forgo the expense and get them a vacation that they would really enjoy and something that would give me a little peace and quiet, all the while giving them some wonderful memories.

The resort I found was amazing. So much for the kids to do! A kids club that was nothing short of amazing, and which aso gave me some time to myself for at least 2 hours a day.

Most of the time I was glad to be on my own. Being able to sink into my book and just relax without having to make conversation with the people around me. It was also great when I could get closer to the pool because I only needed one sun lounger when the boys were in kids club.

I also realised something though. I am a little superficial. On your own, your thought process is very strong. Almost like I was arguing with myself.

I didn’t particularly feel comfortable in my own skin and often noticed that I would cover up. And If I did get in the pool, I’d go the quickest and shortest route possible. same king of thing getting back out. Walking as fast as I could so I could cover myself in a towel. Then making sure that my cover up was resting over my stomach or upper thighs.

I also saw other people, other people who were probably feeling the exact same as me but being able to put those feelings aside. Well, maybe not, maybe they were feeling the same and praying that no one was looking at them.

Chunky thighs, slim thighs, large boobs, little boobs, perfect tiny waists, hour glass figures, round bellies, bellies with stretch marks. Bikinis, swimsuits, tankinis, running shorts.

And there I go. Judgy McJudgerson.

She has back fat like me. She shouldn’t wear those bikini bottoms. His belly is hanging over his shorts, I think I’d die if I looked like that. She’s got a lovely shape-I wish I looked like her. Look at how beautifully tanned he is. How does that person have that belly but have that guy/girl as their partner. For just having a baby she looks amazing… It went on and on.

What a bitch.

*On a side note though.. we all do it. If you’re saying you don’t then, I’m sorry, don’t believe you. “Claire! I can’t believe you’re like that! I’m surprised at you. I’d never do anything like that!” I don’t think so. I’m being honest here-some other people need to be as well.*

I looked at myself in the mirror everyday. I didn’t like what I saw most of the time. Thunder thighs. A lovely belly pouch from my 2 C-sections that I have made considerably bigger by being greedy and not eating the best way. Cellulite. Fat hands. Big calfs. Short.

One morning my boy looks at me whilst I’m looking at myself in the mirror. “Mum. Don’t go thin. Well, maybe a little thin because your belly jiggles. But only that. Otherwise you won’t look like Mum.”

It’s then I knew it wasn’t only about me. It was about them, too. So I get them to help me on my journey. If they want to tell me I’m a bit wobbly, so be it. It makes me put the extra chocolate bar down and we get down to a dance party in the house instead.

Its all about balance.

I’m working on it.

Cx