THE human body is an incredible thing. Mine has given me my two children, who are without doubt the most precious things in my life. It fed them and nurtured them. Five years ago, it failed me in a way I will never recover from when I was diagnosed with stage-four bowel cancer. Yet since […]
THE human body is an incredible thing.
Mine has given me my two children, who are without doubt the most precious things in my life. It fed them and nurtured them.
Five years ago, it failed me in a way I will never recover from when I was diagnosed with stage-four bowel cancer. Yet since that day it has fought tirelessly to keep me alive.
It’s covered in scars from countless operations and treatments but these imperfections serve as a reminder that I am still here.
That is why I celebrate my body, I’m in awe of its power and I thank my lucky stars every day it’s still going.
Still plodding along despite everything cancer has thrown at it. It’s my body and I should be free to enjoy it however I please, without judgment. But sadly, that is not the world we live in.
Since sharing my life with cancer on Instagram (@bowelbabe) and in my Sun column Things Cancer Made Me Say, I have had to put up with cruel taunts, snide remarks and painful judgment on an almost daily basis.
I share the highs and lows of my life with cancer. I’ve dressed as a poo emoji to raise awareness of a disease people refuse to talk about because it’s embarrassing. And I’ve posted photos of hideous skin rashes after treatment.
Yet I’ve been accused of sexualising cancer, of pouting too much and acting like a teenager.
I’ve been asked if I should really be wearing that, in reference to some short skirt or dress, or a plunging neckline.
Nasty trolls have even dragged my children into it, questioning what my son must think of me — deciding he must be embarrassed, despite not knowing him or me.
I get comments like: “She obviously loves herself.” As if that should be a bad thing.
More recently, after nearly dying when my cancer caused a major internal bleed, I have been told I look frail and skinny.
But I make no excuse for who I am. I wear short skirts, I dance and pout and pose . . . and I love it. I’ve done naked photoshoots and would do one again.
I firmly believe we should all have the freedom to choose what is right for ourselves. And we should not be judged by other people’s standards.
The older I get, the more I try to dismiss the negative comments. But some days that is easier than others.
I know I’m not alone. You need only scroll down your social media feed to find vicious comments from anonymous trolls, casting cruel judgment on people they have never met.
This week, Good Morning Britain presenter Ranvir Singh became their latest target while discussing the war in Ukraine.
She was called “unprofessional” for daring to wear a purple dress that showed “cleavage more appropriate for a night out”.
According to who? Who has the right to decide what’s appropriate for Ranvir or not? Only Ranvir does.
She looked stunning, the colour was radiant and the cut of the dress complimented her figure beautifully. But it doesn’t matter what I think. What matters is that Ranvir felt comfortable and confident in what she was wearing.
Her GMB colleague Susanna Reid and Holly Willoughby have also been criticised for showing too much flesh.
Britney Spears has been slated again this week for posing naked photos on her Instagram. One troll called her “an embarrassment to her kids”.
Another said: “Her thirst for likes is getting way out of control.” A third decided: “As long as she continues to sexualise her image, she will never be a ‘free woman’.”
What is wrong with these people? None of us have a clue what Britney has been through, or what she is still going through.
None of us have the right to cast judgment on her life choices. They have nothing to do with us.
When it comes to body confidence, negative remarks like those directed at Britney and other female celebrities serve only to sustain the idea that people should be ashamed of how they look.
Women have boobs and bums. People need to get over that. We have the right to dress and celebrate our bodies however we please. I dress to feel confident.
For me, looking good helps me feel better. Putting on a bright, tight dress and taking the time to do my hair and make-up just to go and sit in a chair at the Royal Marsden Hospital for yet another chemo session helps me face it.
Dancing while hooked up to my pump, toxic drugs dripping into me to kill the cancer inside, is the coping mechanism I need.
I appreciate it doesn’t work for everyone. Lots of friends with cancer have their own coping mechanisms. But I have to be myself and do what’s right for me. And like it or not, this is me.
Everyone who knew me before cancer will tell you I’ve always been this way and have always been able to laugh at myself. It was only recently, when I developed colitis and my stomach swelled, leaving me looking pregnant, I realised just how important it is for me to look in the mirror and feel good.
When I lose confidence, I lose myself. I want to run away and hide from the world. Believe me, that is not the mindset you need when every waking minute of every day is spent trying to stay alive.
My stomach has finally started to go back down and the fact I could again put on a mini skirt the other day made me feel like a different person. I’m 40 years old but why shouldn’t I wear a mini? Is it really that offensive?
Is there an age limit to feeling good? Should we all get to a certain point in life and resign ourselves to wearing only what society tells us is acceptable?
I haven’t spent the past five years desperately trying to live to old age to be told how I should behave, if I have the luxury of making it that far. I don’t look at women such as Britney, Madonna, Holly, Susanna, Ranvir and feel threatened.
I look at them and I am inspired. I am lifted up by women who look really confident in their own skin, dressing how they want and making no apologies for it.
I don’t want to live in a world where it is only acceptable to see models in their twenties naked and showing off their figures.
I want to see women of all ages, shapes and sizes embracing their bodies and enjoying them. I want my daughter to grow up dressing the way she wants to.
She recently bought her first party dress and I was taken aback for a moment at how short and tight it was. But I certainly didn’t criticise her choice.
I could see she felt confident, she looked great and I want her to be proud of who she is.
We should be trying to inspire confidence in young girls. And the way to do that is to make sure they grow up understanding there is no such thing as “normal”.
I grew up in a world where only one body type was celebrated. I want Eloise, who is 12, to grow up dressing for herself so she feels comfortable in her own skin.
There is nothing more powerful than a woman who is confident in herself. That is exactly why they get torn apart and dragged down by trolls. Astonishingly, most of the criticism I get seems to come from other women.
I wouldn’t let my husband tell me what to wear and I wouldn’t expect a random man to comment on my outfit. So why should I accept the same from women? We should lift each other up, not shout each other down.
I wouldn’t wish incurable cancer on anyone — and that includes the nastiest of trolls. So all I ask is you let me face it how I see fit, in a way that gives me the strength to survive.
And if that means wearing short shirts, flaunting my 40-year-old body and dancing while I have more chemo, I am afraid you just have to deal with it.
This is me — and I won’t apologise for it.
