I’m sick of hearing about women being defined as whether they are ‘real’ or not based on their bodies.
IT’S. DRIVING. ME. BONKERS.
So, I’ve popped my ranty-pants on (read: maternity jeans that I’m still wearing after giving birth seven months ago) to stand up for ALL women, whether they do or don’t have stretch-marks, wobbly bits, big bazoongas, itty-bitty bums, tummy aprons, or chook legs.
And I’ll tell you what’s triggered it: reading an article about an Instagram picture posted by Rebecca Judd, which mentions how “very skinny” she looks. She’s wearing a bikini after giving birth three months ago. Sacre bleu!
And, of course, you know what this means? LET’S PELT STONES AT HER using the oh-so-brave method of online comments. For example:
- “Why are you so skinny, Bec? U looked much better in that red dress at the brownlo your face was fuller…”
- “No boobs?”
- “Need some of these:…” (followed by lots of cake emoticons)
- “Sorry, but clearly that is not a healthy wait much better before.”
Clearly, people need to learn how to spell for starters. Then you know what else? In the words of Joe Dolce: SHADDAP YA FACE.
I don’t know Rebecca Judd personally but from what I can gather, she’s crediting compression pants for her recovery, and I’m sure they did help her tummy muscle separation and pelvic floor. (And let’s not be totally naive: assume there’s a sponsorship agreement in place.)
But her body? Well, I’m going to say something that’s going to shock a lot of people who lurve bursting forth with ‘she’s-not-a-REAL-woman’ type opinions: look at her genetics.
I’ll repeat that for those who missed it: LOOK. AT. HER. GENETICS.
She was slim before having kids. She was slim when baking her kids. She’s now slim after having kids. Duh.
Why are we so surprised when some women snap back into shape after having a baby? Types like Kate Middleton, Rachel Finch and Miranda Kerr (and I know for sure Megan Gale will, too) are no more or less ‘real’ than you or me. They get absolutely slammed in the media for *apparently* trying very, very, very hard to get back to their normal after having a baby. I doubt it.
Sure, some ladies do try hard and if they can find the energy and willpower amid the fog of sleep deprivation and attempts to take a shower, then more power to them. But other types are just genetically blessed – it’s that simple. (My grandmother is an example of this, too: six kids within 12 years and her body was the same size at 17 as it was at 70.)
I speak as someone who put on 23kgs with both my pregnancies, and I still have five kilos to lose. And yes, I do want to lose them because, quite frankly, a muffin top is uncomfortable. I have cellulite. My tummy isn’t as firm as it was. My arms tended towards fadoobada potential for a while there. Pretty sure I would fail the pencil test.
Does that make me more ‘real’ than the afore-mentioned ladies? No, it does not.
If the ‘real’ tag was simply about airbrushing and Photoshop – I can understand if people want to know if there have been touch-ups. Personally, I could not care less and you can be assured that if ever I was to appear in a mag I’d want as much airbrushing as possible. Sue me. (It’s no different than using photo filters on phones, peeps.)
In saying all of this, let me make it very clear I am 100 per cent behind seeing all shapes and sizes in the media and on catwalks, but just don’t say a Size 16 woman is more ‘real’ than a Size 6 one. Because here’s some basic biology: if you breathe and are a women, you’re real.
If you’re a pear-shaped Size 18; you’re real.
If you’re a column-shaped Size 4; you’re real.
If you’re an apple-shaped Size 10; you’re real.
If you still wear maternity jeans three years after growing an entire human; you’re real.
If you want to rock a bikini three months after growing an entire human; guess what? STILL. REAL.
Please think before you tag women as being ‘real’, because whether they’ve got a thigh gap or not, or whether they’re famous or not, I can guarantee you they still have feelings. Thanks in advance — that would be unreal.