I’ve said before and I’ll say it again, writing is not my craft, but it sure does help me release my jumbled thoughts and anxiety- better out than in, although I’m sure people usually use that saying when referring to flatulence.

June has been a strange old month so far, I turned 41, and would have happily let that day pass unnoticed, I’ve had some amazing opportunities come my way, but my sales have slowed, tiredness has grown and I’ve had some challenging negativity cross my path- so I feel it’s time to loosen the lid on the fizzy drink and let out some gas… so to speak.

You might be wondering what on earth a padded bra has to do with anything art related, mine is a padded bra, yours may be humour, make-up or independence, or one of many other forms of protection.

This is strangely hard to write… I have small boobs. Just like my voice I think they got fed up with maturing, developing, growing. I’ve given up on willing them to grow, during my pregnancies and breast feeding were the only time they did grow, and the only time I ceased wearing a padded bra.

Before people feel free to shout about how I should be grateful for a healthy body regardless of shape, I hear you , I am super grateful, the 2 thought processes are separable.

The reason I have always worn a padded bra is because without one I feel less of a woman. less womanly, less attractive. Once (as a late teen) one of my parents’ friends bought me a “kind” gift of those chicken fillet type things to insert into my bra to make my breast appear bigger. Her idea not mine. So if it wasn’t enough to be personally insecure about the shell I’d been given, an outsider chose to reaffirm those thoughts. There are plenty more experiences that the world seems to offer that appear to validate my idea of “lack of femininity”, small bras still gape, tops with boob compartments are too baggy, breast augmentation being one of the most frequently performed cosmetic surgeries, and so on. I completely appreciate that clothes can not cater for everyone but it goes beyond this…. and this is how it creeps into my life and Art.

We somehow create these tick lists or labels of attributes as to what defines a woman/man, an artist (insert your own word here), instead of acknowledging that there is no such prescriptive list.

As an artist I mainly draw using a grid

As an artist I use photos to work from

As an artist I sometimes find painting a struggle

Am I less of an Artist because of this?

As a woman I have small boobs

Am I less of a woman because of this? (I certainly don’t have this opinion of other small breasted women but do of myself?)

I recently experienced some negativity towards me as an artist, and it’s times like this that seem to appear like a big pointing figure shouting “I told you so”, see you are less of an artist, just like a gift of chicken fillets for your bra.

Why are we scared to present ourselves to the world exactly as we are, why are we scared about what others may think? I am an artist regardless, not everyone will like what I do, I am a woman regardless, most people couldn’t give a damn about chest size? I guess at times we are overly concerned with what others actually probably aren’t even thinking and we allow that to limit what we do or how we think.

So for the past few days I have been wearing a “less padded bra”, surprise surprise no one has jumped out at me shocked by my lack of chest cushions, and I am trying my very best to remind myself that one persons negative opinion of me does not conclude that I am less of an artist.

I share these thoughts for 2 reasons, writing them seems to give them freedom to be healed/changed or questioned. Secondly because I know there will be someone else out there who is hiding behind their own padded bra just wanting to give less of a shit about what others think, and feel more comfortable being themselves, ready to take on whatever life brings their way with the padded bra being selected as a source of warmth and not as a prerequisite for feeling ok.

With love and thanks

Flo x