I don’t know about you but I often find myself preferring to have sex in the dark.

It’s not because it’s sexier or more appetising than daylight sex, it’s just that I cringe at the thought of my lover discovering that hidden stretch mark right bellow my butt.

It’s absolutely ridiculous I know, but, like every other woman out there I find myself competing against photoshopped images of air brushed models with flawless complexions and really nice boobs. How do they stay so damn perky?!


One particular morning after a romp in the hay, I took the liberty of peeking at myself in the mirror. There was actually absolutely nothing wrong with me, but being the neurotic person that I am, I soon created imperfections.
While staring at myself, I suddenly had an inkling of how self-conscious Kate must have felt when those photo’s of her ta-ta’s were leaked. There could just as well have been thirty paparazzi with me in that room but thankfully it was only me and my “preposterous” flaws.

Despite poking and prodding myself with a finger that I had decided seemed ‘terribly askew,’ I subconsciously stepped into Kate’s shoes again and wondered if she poked herself too...

It turns out that imagining I was royalty was rather soothing to my ego.

Ok fine, a lot soothing.

You see I never got to play the little princess when I was younger. My frizzy dark hair put me at a disadvantage to the blonde Bambi looking kids on the block and I ended up always being cast as the witch. Sad, I know. But I nailed sticking the little bitches with my makeshift wand.

Nevertheless, there I was, standing buck naked  (except for removing my heels because dealing with my hideous feet would have been too much to handle all at once). I teetered closer and inspected my body carefully.

The ego trip I had earlier didn’t last long apparently because in that moment my once cute nose seemed more like a huge chunk of dough plastered to a face. Those parallel stick structures that pass of as legs were buckled and my ass that I used to be so proud of seemed like a pimple sticking out in red hot rage (Although that could have been because I had enjoyed some erotic spanking earlier).

Anyway, to desperately reassure myself of my inner ‘goddess’ I searched for woman that experienced something similar to what I just had. Then, I stumbled across blogger Stella Boonshoft who out of body pride posted a half nude pic of herself for the whole world to see. 

Oh the horror!

Now there was no way I was going to follow her suit, but, I could relate to her you know, being fellow sisters all fat and ugly.

But, while I was obviously cheering for Stella’s cheeky body pride, at the same time I did not agree with the frame of mind that inspired the fuming blog. I mean, I saw myself doing things differently.

For instance, if one of my lovers had made a remark about how one of my boobs looked bigger than the other, in a good and jolly spirit I would have playfully punched him in the face out cold and laughingly tossed him out of my front door.

How is that for a good sense of humour?

I get that women will always have issues with their bodies (big cheer for Lady Gaga who started a revolution on her website). However, like Lili asked a while ago, ‘who do our bodies belong to?’

If we claim to be on the feminist front should it matter that we have a big red butt and stretch marks?

The funny thing is that we no longer need the perfect examples of gorgeous runway models to run us down anymore when we are more than willing to ridicule ourselves in front of a mirror.

I know I am guilty of this…how about you? Comment in the box below.

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