There is nothing quite like the hint of warm weather and a brand new bikini, that makes you regret your past winters’ lifestyle choices. For me, procrastination and hibernation are winter staples. Along with oversized knits and black leggings of course.  

Now don’t get me wrong, this isn’t about self body shaming. I’ve somewhat come to terms that this is the body I’ve been bestowed with and I’m relatively content with it. And hey, even on the occasional day (with good lighting) I look at myself in the mirror and think, “oh hey girl, you have a bit of something going on there. Good for you!” But for those of you who haven’t read my previous posts (and for those who have), I’m going to state the obvious; I love food. Intensely. Infact I am currently on the tail end of spending a year in Italy, where pasta, pizza, risotto and gelato are on constant dinner rotation.

Is it a coincidence that in this particular moment I may not be at my peak physical condition, whilst I have a mojito flavoured sorbet within two minutes of walking distance. I think not!

But all the self loving encouragements and contrasting filters in the world did not help my predicament when my most recent package arrived in the mail; A pair of chic black Fella Swim bikinis. I had been following this brand for a while on Instagram and decided a cheeky birthday present to myself was due. Just for being a top notch broad.

But as I unwrapped my purchase, reality dawned and weirdly, my palms were sweating. Online, they looked a little bare-bummed. But hey, I’m in Italy. Bare bottoms at the beach (and I cannot stress the “at the beach” part enough) are not uncommon amongst the eight month olds to the eighty year olds. Italy is the place this style of bikini was made for. So I gather my courage and try this costume on and immediately, my stomach drops. Up top is perfect. Infact I can see a hint of upper ab definition and the cut of the top really makes my arms and shoulders look like I’ve done a lot more then 5 push-ups in the last month. But it was the bottom half that made me mentally curse. I could clearly see that here is where the past food comas have hidden, and I’m pretty sure that THAT was not where I had left my butt last summer!

Why hadn’t I paid less then $10 a week for Kayla Itsines training program? How is it possible that it’s taken me one and a half months to complete a thirty day squat challenge? What happened to my shower lunges or watching TV crunches or the three kilometre run instead of a nap? Why is it that these little pockets of inspiration only come after I’ve eaten a bowl of risotto? Procrastination and hibernation. That is how!

You’d not be remiss for thinking my natural reaction was to curl up inside my doona, take comfort in a jar of Nutella and shove my tear inducing costume in the back of my undies draw, never to see the light of day again. Infact I still have a habit of doing two of those things. But no. At the next peek of sunshine, I pulled those bikinis on and dragged my pale skinned butt to that beach. Just like every other female has done before me. 

You’d be pleased to know I haven’t given myself too much of a hard time since then. A decent tan always covers a sinful amount of flaws.