In a new weekly feature, Her.ie newbie Liz is going to share her weight loss journey. She’ll be filling you in on fighting temptation, her willpower struggles with the cocktail menu and taking painfully slow steps towards regular exercise. All in the name of a dress.  _____________________________________ Hanging on the wall at the end of my bed is the constant reminder I plan on shedding nearly two stone this year. I also plan on marking the trials and tribulations of ‘trying to be good’ – the favourite saying we all tout, and quickly replace when a cake is put in front of us.    Week 33: Let’s get some perspective…  This week, everyone got their knickers in a twist over a lingerie ad. The reason? A woman who is a UK size 14, or a US 10, labelled herself as a ‘plus-sized’ model. She admitted despite being this stunning 5ft 11 beauty, that she felt self-conscious next to the other women in the campaign. She knew she didn’t look the same. I want to start this by saying:  if I looked like a hint of this lady did wearing my undies, you’d rarely see another stitch stretched across my body. She is beautiful, and toned and has some serious curves. I hold my hands up – I have a total girl crush on Myla Dalbesio. Women, understandably, were angered to think that this beautiful woman had such an insecurity in her skin that was being justified by a fashion industry. She was a working, paid model. How in God’s name would a woman facing everyday life manage to build up some self-confidence in their appearance, if this woman couldn’t? The truth is, it’s hard. I’m a UK size 12, and I do feel horrendously self-conscious most days of the week. I’m not saying I’m obese, or that I view myself that way. What I am saying is that I’m living in a society where I constantly compare myself to other women. My body is a temple, and all that jazz. But somehow, I don’t always love it. And I don’t need to have my face plastered on a billboard to admit that sometimes I wish my arms were leaner, my tummy taut or you know, I had the body to twerk and work it. (Minus the Miley catsuit catastrophe. Nobody needs to see that much of me) I don’t slip out of my jammies and fall into a flattering outfit each morning. I try on a series of clothes and settle for the matches that I’m most comfortable wearing that day. One day I’m paranoid over my thighs, another day I’m hiding the wobble of a bingo-wing or the rise in a tummy bloat. I have been known to panic and bring myself to tears at trying to find something to wear on a regular Saturday night out. We’ll ignore that I might have spent half an hour perfecting my make-up. I’m going to zone in on the one area of my appearance that, in my head, doesn’t live up to a perfect ideal. Here’s the thing. There’s not one single person telling me I need to look slimmer. That I need to lose weight. In fact, if I sigh or grumble, the ladies in work are always quick to put a stop to my moans. In fact, I think I’ve met a few soulmates in there. Roommates, best friends, my sister, hell even my brother are all flying the supportive flag. I’m surrounded by words of warmth that wrap me up. That solace and comfort can be my cloak some days. When I tell myself I’m never going to hit my target. That I’m never going to achieve the body I want. And before people think I’m supporting a size zero cause, I need to point out that my goal weight is still the higher end of the ‘healthy range’ and that a love of chocolate, cheese and wine means I’ll never support a diet of air and water. So even though I’m nowhere near as toned or striking as Ms. Dalbesio, I feel we’re soul sisters. The things you want in life are worth fighting for. If it came easy to everyone, it wouldn’t make it special. When I was 16, I wanted to be on Broadway. I did the next best thing. I joined my local musical society. I can only apologise to my family and now my workmates for the endless humming and snippets of songs I go through in a day. When I was 18, I wanted to be a writer. Despite some ups and downs, two degrees and a number of internships, I got to be a writer. Now I’m 26, and I want to be body confident. So I know I’m going to have some highs and lows. I know there will be days where the Dominos delivery guy is going to smile and pretend that I’m heading back to my apartment to a waiting party (when we both know the meal deal is totally just for one). I know that I’m probably going to always struggle to ‘enjoy’ the gym and that there’ll probably always be a little part of me that is double checking if my bum looks big in this. Although granted after this week, I’ll never have to worry too much. I’ll never be pulling a Kimmy K or wasting some perfectly good champagne on my backside. But here’s the deal. I know I’m going to be body confident too. I’m WAY too determined to back out now. So to Myla, or anyone who has ever felt like the bigger girl, you know what? We totally are the bigger girl. We’re the girl with bigger dreams, bigger hopes, bigger determination. And maybe to house all that want and need, we need a (slightly) bigger frame. My mam always told me I had a big heart. I like to think I got that from her. And that the body she gave me is perfect to keep it safe. I just need to love it a little bit more. Height: 5ft 8 Starting Weight: 174 lbs Current Weight: 157 lbs Weight Loss To Date: 17 lb Goal: 148 lbs Feeling: Confident The Dress in Question… NOW FITS!