Clothes As Armour: My Return-to-Work Outfit

With my anxiety about a return to work after a 15 month absence I was delighted when my favourite shop, White Stuff, offered to send me an outfit to help manage the nerves.

This was important to me because many years of low body confidence means I treat outfits as a form of armour. Feeling I look good helps me feel good. It buoys my confidence.

My wardrobe is full of White Stuff items – the cut of the dresses in particular suits my figure, and the bright colours and fun prints suit my personality.

I was delighted with the outfit I selected: the Beautiful Island Jersey Dress in Paradise Coral made me feel good the moment I put it on. The shape is very flattering; accentuating the right parts, and skimming over the bits I don’t feel so confident about.

With its high neckline and a hem that reaches the knee, it is a perfect work wear dress because I don’t have to worry about indecency!

The colour: a deep indigo background with blue and coral spirals is so pretty, and goes with so much.

I paired it with the Waterfall Cardi in Deep Sky Blue – the shape of the cardigan is again very flattering. The way it is cut makes the cardigan look smart, almost like a jacket – perfect for looking the part at work. That said, I can see myself wearing the dress socially, too – it’s such a versatile frock – with a purple or coral cardigan perhaps to bring out those colours.

I was so pleased the dress has pockets – more dresses should feature pockets because they are so useful!

All dresses should have pockets.

Being a fan of a statement necklace, I was very pleased with the Short Flowery Necklace in teal. It sets off the dress beautifully, and has lovely detailing without being too ‘showy’, making it the perfect addition to this work outfit.

As you can also see in this picture, the dress has tabbed sleeves – it seemed to me to be a good compromise between sleeves and sleeveless – and therefore suitable for work in warm weather.

On my feet I have the Melrose Mid Wedge Demi Sandals. Not being a fan of heels I find platforms like these to be a perfect compromise for when I want to add a bit of height to an outfit. These sandals are the perfect complement to an outfit and, crucially, comfy on my feet. Admittedly I didn’t wear them on my first day, preferring instead the familiarity of my sensible brogues (first days and new shoes are not a happy combination!).

The finishing flourish is this stunning Cockatiel Scarf. Not only is it double sided: a multi-coloured graphic print on one side and plain green on the other mean it can be worn with pretty much anything, it is also double-layered and huge! This means it would be invaluable as a wrap during chillier summer evenings.

It is difficult to do the scarf justice in photographs…

Trying to show how big the scarf is!

Arriving at work in this ensemble did not completely remove all my nerves (it’s a beautiful outfit, but sadly not a magic one!), but I felt I looked good which helped immeasurably. I received some kind compliments too, which is always lovely!

The outfit is timeless and classic, and I look forward to wearing it on many work days and to many social occasions.

About to leave for work on my first day (I opted for my sensible brogues for the first day).

Disclosure: White Stuff kindly gifted me this outfit. All words and opinions are mine.

Being a Tall Poppy, and the Heroine of My Life

“Life-threatening is the ultimate in empowering”, I have heard.

It certainly worked for me. Growing up, teachers observed my lack of self-confidence and recorded their thoughts in my school reports. The reports included words to the effect of “Leigh is bright, works hard, and produces consistently good work. I wish she would put herself forward more, come out of her shell.”

I’m now well and truly out of my shell. Empowered. Confident.

My increased self-confidence was evolutionary to an extent. It developed over time, and with life experience. Increased self-confidence has come with being comfortable with who I am, what I look like, and caring less about what other people think.

That new-found confidence received a huge boost as a result of a life-threatening illness, and Hugo’s death. “What else could hurt me?” I thought. The worst had already happened. That is not to say I am completely devoid of feelings, of course.

But I am changed so utterly, completely, and in so many ways by those events of February and March 2014.

I have been writing about those feelings in this blog, giving talks to healthcare professionals, badgering people on Twitter, become an action lead for the #MatExp campaign. Incredible things that I could not have dreamed of doing about eighteen months ago.

Sometimes I have been fuelled by anger at the unfairness of the world. But my passion has been motivated by the desire for Hugo’s all-too-short life to have been worth something. For improvements to be made in his memory.

While my confidence was better than it had been during my school days, before Hugo died I did not realise or acknowledge that my voice is valid, worth expressing, with views to be valued by others.

I realise now I am a tall poppy. I have the confidence to say that, to be that, to be proud of it.

I am vulnerable and fragile, like a flower in a meadow. Yet I am also strong, reaching out to others, collaborating, trying to teach kindness and compassion.

Working on Hugo’s Legacy. Making a difference to other families in Hugo’s memory.

A member of our #MatExp group made this beautiful image about tall poppies.

I also saw this quote yesterday, from the late, great Nora Ephron (screenwriter of classic films such as Silkwood and When Harry Met Sally).

Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim.

My life is fraught with challenges. Legacies of my illness, and Hugo’s death. Anxiety, flashbacks, panic attacks sometimes. A deep, dark abyss of sadness. Sadness at what cannot be unchanged, and what can never be. Missing my son so very much.

But my life includes joy, too. I want people to empathise with me, but never feel sorry for or pity me. I have suffered, I suffer still, I will continue to suffer in some way for the rest of my life.

But I am not a victim.

I am the heroine of my life.

[Better make sure I have the ‘e’ on the end of ‘heroine,’ considering the connection with poppies. But anyway…]

A couple of weeks ago I approached some brands, and they were kind enough to send me some things. My other half, Martin is a photographer and this morning he took some photos of me for the posts I need to write about them.

The look in my eyes says it all. Staring down the lens of the camera.

There is strength behind those eyes.

Confidence.

My voice matters, and so does yours.

You should not have to endure a life-threatening experience to feel empowered, confident, to know that life is not to be wasted, to take advantage of opportunities to fulfil your potential.

So off you go, use that voice. If you are lacking in confidence, find ways to build it up.

Make a difference to your life. Make a difference to others’ lives.

Be a tall poppy, and the hero(ine) of your own life.

____________________________

Sunday Thought May 17, 2015

Many of us waste time and energy wondering – and worrying – about what other people think of us. Wouldn’t it be liberating to not care?

Caring about others is good of course. Caring for others, their feelings and their wellbeing, putting their needs first when appropriate is a crucial part of a decent society.

But there is a difference between caring for others, and caring so much about what others think it becomes detrimental to your own emotional wellbeing.

When I first read this quote, while I really liked it an initial thought for me was “Eeek! Not everyone will like me?” That’s the people pleaser talking.

Then I realised why would I want everyone to like me? It is a natural aspiration, but it is not possible.

Think about it: by trying to keep everyone happy, and therefore liking you, you are bound to be not meeting your own needs.

It’s about being comfortable with what you look like. If you want to wear something, wear it.

It is about being comfortable with what you are interested in, even if it is something that is not considered ‘cool’ or whatever. If you like it, do it. (With usual caveats about not hurting anyone…).

It is about being comfortable recognising the times when you have to please yourself, do what is right for you and those closest to you.

It is about being comfortable with the recognition that mostly, people are usually too caught up in their own lives to notice or be too bothered with what you are up to.

It is about being comfortable with the knowledge that even if other people are bothered, other people will soon overcome minor offence.

And if they don’t? Some people will like you, others won’t. It is the way of life. Provided you are being a good person, are happy with who you are and what you have done in life, there is no point worrying too much about it. It is probably their problem, not yours.

Haters gonna hate and all that.

Channel your inner Taylor Swift, and shake it off.

Giving My 18 Year Old Self A Good Talking To

Dear 18 year old Leigh, 1995

18 year old Leigh

This letter is a good-old fashioned pep talk to help you realise how amazing you are. I don’t want this realisation to take as long as it did without the benefit of hindsight.

I could give you generic advice: tell you to ditch the fakers, the haters, and the takers. I could tell you that the most confident people are often good actors, making it up as they go along. They don’t really know more than you. I could tell you not to waste time on the shallow people, the people who don’t deserve you.

All of that advice is important, of course, but it is not specific enough for what you need to achieve your full potential.

You have the world at your feet, and yet you hesitate to seize it. I know you lack confidence and self-belief, but really you shouldn’t.

We both know you spent your formative years being bullied by someone. Someone who should have known better.

That someone told you that you were fat and stupid. They told you that all the teenage dramas you experienced were because you were fat and stupid. You were told this so many times that you believed it.

This makes me so, so sad. It is, of course, complete and utter nonsense.

You are by no means fat. You have curves in all the right places. Those curves, the boobs especially, often attract unwanted attention. You might not believe it, but one day you will embrace those curves, show them off. You will wear clothes of a style, colour and pattern you could not imagine wearing, and you will rock those outfits.

Do not waste any more time thinking that life will improve, that your confidence will soar if only you were taller, skinny, prettier. Confidence has nothing to do with personal appearance, and everything to do with self-belief.

Yes, you should probably do more exercise – find something you enjoy doing, don’t worry about what others think. Exercise can help with confidence, and perk up your happiness hormones too. Think this girl can, too!

You are also far from stupid. You are rubbish at maths, but so what? Maths is not the be all and end all. There are so many other things you excel at. You are creative, with an enquiring mind. You have a fabulous memory, and a wonderful imagination. You want to write.

I know you want to make the most of these talents. You have ideas, but don’t know how to channel them. Over the next few years, opportunities will come your way. You will surprise yourself by following through on some of those opportunities. But self-doubt strikes, you find a reason to back out, and you don’t realise the full potential of those opportunities.

Silly girl. Remember this advice, and do not let history repeat itself.

In about 10 years’ time, a new concept called blogging will appear on the internet. I know you don’t know much about the internet yet, but in time you will not know how you lived without it. Blogging is where you have your own little corner of the internet to write about whatever you want.

You do find blogging eventually. You dip your toe in, cautiously, worried what people might say about your writing. It makes you feel a bit more fulfilled, but still there is so much more you could do with this talent.

As the years go by, you slowly but surely gain more confidence, and that’s great. But there is always something missing.

A few years later, something unimaginably awful will happen. There is wonderful, indescribable beauty within the tragedy, which is something you will try to hold on to. The tragedy has helped me realise that life is short, to seize opportunities as they come, to realise my value, to find my voice, to not care what others think, to make a difference to the world, to forge my own path.

This tragedy is being endured, I am surviving because I am strong, tenacious, passionate, a fighter.

And so are you.

Yes, you already have these values. You have them in spades, bucket loads. You just don’t recognise it yet.

Take note of what I say in this letter. Your older self knows better, believe me. Late is better than never, for sure.

But don’t wait for tragedy to strike. Don’t waste time wishing to be something you will never be, or for things you can never have.

You are already good enough. You are special, loved, with so much to give to the world. You are wonderful as you are.

Respect yourself, value yourself, follow your instinct, and you will flourish. I promise.

With so much love,

37 year old Leigh, in honour of International Women’s Day 2015.

37 year old Leigh

This Girl Can, Too

For most of my life I avoided exercise, thinking I was too fat. With poor self-esteem and body image, I thought exercise was only for those with long, lithe legs and flat tummies. I still don’t have long, lithe legs, and nor do I have a flat tummy, but I am now voluntarily running 5 kilometres a couple of times a week. What is that all about?

For the last few months I had been half-heartedly running on the treadmill. At first, I was struggling to run for two minutes, but had progressed 20 minutes, with a distance just shy of 4km.

Last Wednesday, I decided to give a 5km a go, but to relax and see what happened. I put the speed on the treadmill to 9.5, nice and steady. When I got to 15 minutes, I increased the speed by 0.1 every minute until I got to 10 at 20 minutes. After that time, I was into unchartered territory. At 23 minutes, I was really struggling and slowed down to a walk for two minutes to get my breath back. By 25 minutes, I was back running again, increasing the speed to 10.5. A strand of hair had escaped from my ponytail and the sweat was dripping down it, tickling my neck. My legs and lungs were begging for mercy.

At 31.47 I saw the distance counter tick over to 5km. I was overjoyed.

This girl can!

I was so proud, I recorded the event in my diary, and awarded myself a gold star.

[Hazy flashback moment…]

My reluctance to take part in sport began at school: with puppy fat, being clumsy, a daydreamer, and having poor hand-eye coordination (no self-deprecation here, it’s all true), I didn’t get on well with the traditional school sports of netball and hockey. I was always picked last, which cemented my belief that I was hopeless at physical activity. I did after-school dancing class, and swimming, but there were always girls who were better at both than me – and these were the girls with long, lithe legs and flat tummies, not like dumpy little me (so I thought.)

During the formative years of my life, I had a constant belief that if only I was slimmer and taller, I would be able to [insert ambition here].

Fast forward a few years, and I am living in Auckland, New Zealand. I haven’t grown any taller, sadly, but I am getting slimmer. While I am generally more active than I have ever been, I have also discovered running. Martin and I started by running up and down the road next to where we lived in Mt Eden, and we then progressed to running up the volcano the suburb is named after (don’t worry, the volcano has been dormant for centuries). I lost loads of weight, and was the slimmest I have ever been.

On returning home to the UK, I continued to run. I took part in the Race for Life, running the 5km in a fairly decent time of 25 minutes or so.

Me after running a Race for Life, in about 2006. I was classed as ‘overweight’.

The funny thing was, being slim did not give me the self-confidence I so craved. Weight loss isn’t a magic concept that can change your mindset in itself, I discovered.

The weight began to reappear after an accident on a walking holiday in the French Alps. The day after our arrival in Chamonix, we set about walking the Grand Balcon Nord. Martin and I were both pretty fit, but we found the walk up much harder than we realised – the altitude was a bit of a shock to the system, too. As I mentioned earlier, I am clumsy, and on the way down I slipped and twisted my knee.

Me at Lac Blanc. I was too knackered to smile: sensible people get the cable car to Plan Praz and walk up from there. Not us.

Well, most sensible people would say “Oh dear, I had better rest my knee so it gets better.” Not me. A trip to the pharmacy sorted me out with anti-inflammatory painkillers and a knee brace, while an outdoor shop equipped me with a pair of walking poles. I carried on with the holiday as though my knee was fine.

You don’t need to be a knee specialist to figure out that was not very wise. You will also not be surprised to discover that my knee took a very long time to heal.

While my knee was healing, the running and other activity in the gym I had previously been doing became very difficult. Even when my knee had recovered, I developed a psychological aversion to the treadmill, thinking I couldn’t do it and besides, it was deathly boring. I didn’t change my eating habits, and the weight piled on.

But you know what? Due to a variety of factors while my weight increased, my self-confidence soared.

The trouble for my waistline was I now did not want to equate my self-confidence of body self-image with my weight or dress size. I was awesome no matter how much I weighed! I started achieving the ambitions the younger me thought would be possible only if I was slimmer, and taller (I’m still only 5’2″).

I am a comfort eater, and during the past year since Hugo died I have had a very good excuse to comfort eat. However, I was feeling uncomfortable and bloated. Eventually, I came to the realisation that all the chocolate and cake in the world is not going to give me back my son. In addition, the HELLP syndrome and pre-eclampsia that necessitated Hugo’s very premature birth, and that caused his death often causes the mum to get cardiovascular disease in later life.

Today, I am a dress size 14 to 16, and the body mass index (BMI) chart tells me I am ‘obese’. How rude. To be honest, even when I was running before my knee incident, and a dress size 10 to 12, I was still classed as ‘overweight’. BMI is only one indicator of health and fitness.

Me, after a recent workout. I believe the polite term is ‘glowing’.

I have returned to exercise, in Hugo’s honour – prolonging my life, when life was denied to my precious boy. Imagining Hugo was saying “Come on Mummy, you can do it Mummy” helped me during the 5kms I have run this week (I repeated the feat last Sunday, shaving 10 seconds or so off the time). I have returned to running as a mark of respect to my body – I nearly experienced multiple organ failure and after Hugo was born I recovered physically very quickly. I need to keep my body physically strong.

Already, I am feeling better. My tummy is less bloated, my waist is returning to its former hourglass shape, my legs feel firmer. I am comfortably back in my pre-pregnancy jeans. I still eat cake and chocolate – life is too short not too indulge a little. It is about balance.

I love the new This Girl Can campaign. I wish it had been around when I was younger, so I could see I  didn’t need long, lithe legs and a flat tummy to go out and do sport. That I can exercise, even with bits that jiggle.

That this girl can, too.