Are you your own best friend?

I’m not sure I’ve ever met anybody who was entirely content with their own body. This may be part of the Australian way where we would rather die than be seen as ‘up ourselves’. But it’s interesting that when we point out our flaws, they are things like ‘My legs are too short and stocky’, or ‘My chest is too flat’ – not ‘I can’t carry the groceries up a flight of stairs’ or ‘I’m about as flexible as a house brick’.

It’s interesting, but not at all surprising – because the first two can supposedly be seen by the whole world. The second two nobody need ever know about. Our bodies have become something for other people to look at, and we so very rarely think about what they can (or can’t) do.

The issue of body image is one very close to my heart. It makes me so sad and frustrated to think of all those people out there – mostly women – who are making themselves miserable by trying to live up to an ideal that doesn’t actually exist. So many times I’ve read of women who seem to wake up at 35 and not give a toss about what other people think about their looks. I’d like to shake the young women of 16yo+ and say ‘See? You’ll get to that point too! How about you cut out the next 20-odd years of angst and just love yourselves right now?’

I’m no stranger to body consciousness. I still have moments when I’m at the pool with my kids wondering why everyone seems to be looking at me, and whether it’s because my cossie is too small or some such. And occasionally when I see myself in photos I would prefer to see only one chin. However, there is a vast difference between wanting to make the best of yourself - through nutrition and exercise - and loathing the body you've got.

So, are we programmed to find a certain look attractive, through the mass media? Or has the media just picked up on what most people find attractive and run with it? Chicken or egg, I suppose. We often hear about the ‘rubenesque’ models painted by, well, Rubens … and that is supposed to make curvy girls feel better about themselves. But what about the thin women of that time? It seems to me that someone is always missing out.

So, I suppose if you happen to fit into the mould that is considered ‘beautiful’ in your time, enjoy every second of it. If you don’t, learn to love yourself and realise how fickle the world of beauty really is. To paraphrase, beauty is wasted on the young. They’ll always be too insecure to appreciate it. Don’t make that mistake – love yourself right now, and treat your body like the best friend it is.