Before we get started on what on earth prompted me to paint a (slightly see-through, skintight) dress with all the things — good, bad and ugly — that people have said about my body during my 31 years of existence, I just want to get a few things straight.
This piece isn’t an attack on anybody. It’s not a vanity project, or a pity party. I’m not trying to make people feel sorry for me just because somebody once told me I have thunder thighs, weird knees, sausage fingers and minging teeth. And I’m not looking for anyone to tell me that my arms really aren’t that big and butch, or that my thighs aren’t that chunky.
Besides, there are plenty of compliments on the dress too. What woman doesn’t want to hear that they’ve got ‘a smile that lights up the world’, ‘bangin’ curves’ or ‘nice chebs’? In fact when I was about 16, a lad from the local pub decided my ‘chebs’ were so nice that that was what he would call me from then on. So I’ve had more than my fair share of compliments.