OK, I bought a pink Accessorize string bikini for a mini-break in Cap D’Antibes last month, but I wore a tracksuit until the moment I lay back on a sun-lounger and didn’t sit up in my two-piece, let alone walk around in it, to spare members of the public a view of my sagging, cellulite-riddled, 53-year-old rear.
So why do I, someone who has never been content with her body, now find myself posing in a bikini for a Daily Mail photographer?
Look, no airbrush! Liz Jones, left, in the Isme
bikini modelled by Marie Helvin, right, last week - and neither women
benefited from retouching or Photoshop of any sort
But this experiment is not just about age and that old chestnut: can you wear a bikini if you’re over 50? (Actually, my buttocks do resemble an old, peeled chestnut — white, with rivulets.) It’s also about being happy in your own skin, which I have never been.
As a teenager I wore a thick towelling top and jeans on the beach. In my 20s and 30s I hid behind kaftans, wraps, windbreakers and trees.
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