A survey has revealed the age that women are happiest with their naked bodies.
By NICKY CHAMP
Are you 34? Yes? Congratulations, you’ve hit the age where you are the most satisfied with your lovely lady lumps.
Did you answer no? Sorry, looks like you’ve still got a ways to go in the body-hating department.
A new and very important (cough) survey has revealed the age that women are happiest with their naked bodies.
That’s because by their early thirties women have “typically settled into a long-term relationship, which boosts their self-confidence,” according to the study by a skincare company.
So what if you’re 34 and happen to be single?
You can get down off the ledge, you still have a shot at this; you may have also learned by now “which diet and exercise combination produces the best results,” leading to a more satisfied sense of self.
That or you’ve failed at clean eating, tried every diet that ever existed, said never again to doing burpees or drunk your body weight in raw green smoothies and have given up caring about what anyone else thinks of your body.
Given that the majority of women begin to feel conscious about their bodies somewhere between the ages of 13-17. That’s a solid two decades of feeling like crap before we hit our peak body happiness and a really short window before it all goes downhill and we begin to worry about the heavy stuff – cleavage wrinkles, crepey neck skin and crow’s feet deeper than Keith Richards’ after a 47-day non-stop world tour.
I hit this magical age a couple of months ago and sadly I didn’t have an epiphany on the morning of the 1st of June, I didn’t wake up and suddenly have no angst about my stretch marks or cellulite or rapidly expanding gut.
There were no body image fairies sitting on my shoulder whispering positive messages in my ear. I want my money back, dammit.
But on a more serious note, sure I don’t have the tight abs I had in my twenties but I also don’t have the time or inclination to do multiple sets of sit-ups or burpees or any physical exertion that makes me want to vomit.
I don’t have the perky breasts I had in my early twenties either but I had a baby and many of the hangups you have tend to disappear when you’ve given birth practically naked in a room full of strangers.
It’s less to do with relationships and fitness regimes and more to do with the sliding scale of caring; the more you’ve got on your plate, the less fucks you give.
It’s science, you guys.
What’s gob-smacking to me is that so many women (myself included here) look back at photos of themselves from 3, 5, 10 years ago and I think ‘Hey, I had a great body, why did I spend all that time worrying about it?’ but that thought bubble bursts the moment summer rolls around and the thought of putting on a bikini sends a collective shiver down our spines.
Why is that?
How often do you think positively about your appearance/body?