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C O L U M N
DAWN PORTER shares…
The correct way to
take a compliment
bout six years ago
I joined a Pilates studio
in London. The studio
A was attended by
women in their 70s
who wore multi-coloured leotards.
How wonderful, I always thought, to
remain so loyal to such a classic item.
A few years later when I moved
to Hollywood, my new Pilates studio
offered a very different collection of
workout gear. The one piece was out,
the crop top was IN. Terrifying,
exposed midriffs were everywhere.
My teacher, Lori, was about 5ft 6in
with dyed strawberry blonde hair and
perfectly manicured black fingernails.
She wore a crop top that just covered
her suspiciously-too-big-for-her-body
boobs, and showed a six-pack that
was so pronounced it looked as
though it had been drawn on.
“You have such an amazing
stomach,” I said gawping like a horny
teenage boy. Not quite sure whether
I meant amazing to be good or bad.
“I know, isn’t it awesome? I love it,”
she replied, beaming widely.
Wow. Her answer took me by
surprise. Where was her insecurity?
Her self-deprecation? You can’t just
take a compliment, can you? You
have to put yourself down at the
same time? Don’t you? If someone
tells me they like my face, I have to
reply that I have wobbly thighs.
I thought they were the rules, but
apparently not. Lori knew she looked
great, and wasn’t afraid to say it.
As she led me over to the
reformer (a piece of Pilates
equipment that closely resembles
a torture table) I felt more jealous of
her self-assurance than her six-pack.
“What would it take for me to get
a stomach like that?” I asked, hoping
to prompt more hints on how to
accept a flattering
comment.
“I like, totally
work so hard.
I am in the
studio like,
three hours
a day. I train
myself, then
I train with my class. I also
watch what I eat.”
“What do you eat?” I asked.
“Nothing really.”
Right. Enough said. I would
never have a six-pack like Lori’s.
I love food too much.
She put my feet into some
stirrups and guided me to
raise them way over my
head. I then had to make big
circles with my legs.
“Great, you look
awesome,” she continued.
“Awesome. Brilliant. Well done!”
she persisted. I smiled (ish).
I was in a position that gave me
over 100 chins, it was not amazing.
The ladies in the leotards never
spoke to me like this, we just
exchanged quiet smiles. Lori’s was
a whole new level of female bonding,
and I didn’t like it. Was I supposed to
“Lori’s was a whole new level of female
bonding, and I didn't like it. Was I
supposed to be complimenting her too?”
be complimenting her too? I tried.
“Have you had a boob job? They
look amazing?” I uttered foolishly.
“No, they’re real,” she replied,
“and I hate them. They’re so big
they make me look totally out
of proportion.”
So, it seems even the most
confident people do have their
insecurities, but really her boobs
were AWESOME! Actually, I quite
like mine too, but I have wobbly
thighs – sorry, I couldn’t help myself!
Email Dawn at dawn.porter@stylist.co.uk
DAWN PONDERS THE
PROBLEM OF LILY
WHITE FEET
On a
recent
plane
journey
I was flicking
through Air Mall
magazine and saw this
Here’s the
thing…
machine for golfers that
tans their feet and gets
rid of ‘unsightly’ sock
lines, called Solafeet Foot
Tanner. The idea is they
put it under their desks,
place their feet in it for
15 minutes a day, and in
10 days their feet are as
brown as their legs. Isn’t
that the silliest product
ever? Imagine Peter
Jones’s face if you pitched
it on Dragons’ Den.
NEW�WORD�
ALERT
As my girlfriends and
I were wallowing in the
mortification of seeing
terrible
photos of
ourselves,
we ended
up coining
a new word:
a badangle.
This is a still
NOT A GOOD ANGLE,
A BADANGLE
photograph
that caught
you at a bad
angle and is, therefore,
really upse�ing. I’m sure
we’ll all have a few of
those kicking around
a�er a girls’ night out.
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