My summer holidays are about to start and we usually plan our holidays well in advance and once we have booked something, I am delighted.

We have this lovely holiday to look forward to. I can start daydreaming about long walks on a beach and lovely evenings with a glass of rose on a terrace overlooking the sea. I imagine myself enjoying a morning swim and I look forward to warmer temperatures and feeling the sun on my skin. However…

Once summer and the holiday itself draw nearer, my enthusiasm slowly subsides and gradually makes place for a completely different feeling. That of fear and shame.

Fear of having to put on a bathing suit. Shame about my flabby bits bouncing about for everyone to see. Disgust at seeing the cellulitis bulging through my summer pants. Self-loathing when I see how my muffin top shows through a thin shirt.

I spend more time looking for pretty cover-ups than for fancy bathing suits. Most of all, I long for winter to return so that I can put on my favorite oversized jumper that not only hides everything that needs hiding, but also makes me feel skinny as there is so much room in it.

It's an ever-returning feeling and I am always battling with myself. Shall I just not give a shit and walk that dreaded half mile down the beach to swim with my kids or does my embarrassment win and will I leave on a maxi dress, pretending 'it's a bit chilly on the beach, isn't it?'

To be honest, I think that life really is too short to think and worry about those extra pounds. Apart from having this protective layer that hides my toned body underneath it, I am healthy and that’s what matters. Right?

That is, until I drag my body up the stairs, arriving on the first floor feeling light-headed and out of breath.

But really, there are so many serious problems in the world. Things that actually matter. So, people with a few pounds too many should be ashamed to make a problem out of it. Be grateful that this is your biggest issue. Right?

Yeah maybe. Apart from the fact that the larger part of your wardrobe doesn’t fit and must be treated as 'clothes to aspire to' (even though you know that they’ll never fit again).

We only think that we are too heavy or fat or whatever word you want to fill in there, because other people are slimmer. So it is by comparison that we feel the way we feel. As long as you compare yourself to someone who is bigger, you should feel great about yourself, right?

But it is rather confrontational when the only bigger person you see within a ten-mile radius is pregnant with twins and retaining water on top of that.

You see, I am trying but I am struggling to get where I want to be; in a place of total acceptation and even appreciation of myself. A friend who has a lot of physical shit told me today that her mother would ask her what part of her body was not hurting, to help her focus on the good. 'Yes honey, I know you broke your back, but is your big toe in pain? No? Well, celebrate it! Is your wrist in pain? Also not, well hallelujah to that!'

Maybe I should do the same thing weight-wise. Focus on the good, you know. Do my thighs hang over my knees when I stand up? No? Great! Does my face move like Jell-O when I walk? No? Brilliant! Do I break chairs when I sit down? No? Super!

You know, it does work. Realizing that everything is relative and that there are so many issues and serious problems. It also makes me realize one other thing: whining about something that is as unimportant as flabby bits is just sinful.

So, on to the beach and ready to enjoy the sea, flabby and all!