By: E.S.
I was looking for a new coat so I clicked on to ‘Diesel’ and my blood pressure went up. On the cover page: a girl with a great haircut, beautiful make up, a nice top, and, it appears, sitting in a wheel chair.
My first thought: we had the one and only Miss Naomi Campbell , and her revolution in the fashion world’s ethics; and now we have a woman with disabilities, it appears, modelling for one of the world’s top designers.
At that moment I felt like the world finally became a better place.
I kept looking at that photo. There was a half-naked male model at her side but I did not pay any attention to him.
I kept staring at that girl and asking myself: how did she do that?
I have a serious problem with my body image after having breast cancer. I have no confidence at all. My insecurities just eat me alive. My brain does not obey one single mindfulness therapy.
I wished, for many years, to find something that would restore my confidence, let me feel free, and just let me enjoy things. But after all I was wrong.
I looked for something or rather wanted back something (my right breast) that is gone forever. I only realised this now. And somehow I don’t feel like crying.
Strange. I think I broke the ’vicious circle’.
Breaking the (fashion) Law and More
By: E.S.
I was looking for a new coat so I clicked on to ‘Diesel’ and my blood pressure went up. On the cover page: a girl with a great haircut, beautiful make up, a nice top, and, it appears, sitting in a wheel chair.
My first thought: we had the one and only Miss Naomi Campbell , and her revolution in the fashion world’s ethics; and now we have a woman with disabilities, it appears, modelling for one of the world’s top designers.
At that moment I felt like the world finally became a better place.
I kept looking at that photo. There was a half-naked male model at her side but I did not pay any attention to him.
I kept staring at that girl and asking myself: how did she do that?
I have a serious problem with my body image after having breast cancer. I have no confidence at all. My insecurities just eat me alive. My brain does not obey one single mindfulness therapy.
I wished, for many years, to find something that would restore my confidence, let me feel free, and just let me enjoy things. But after all I was wrong.
I looked for something or rather wanted back something (my right breast) that is gone forever. I only realised this now. And somehow I don’t feel like crying.
Strange. I think I broke the ’vicious circle’.