Here’s what a week of fierce self-love did for my body image (and my sex drive!)

OK so I came across the concept of FIERCE SELF LOVE recently and, I have to say I was at best skeptical.

The concept is deciding you are going to love yourself, and then practising it EVERYDAY.

(I stifled a giggle too, if that’s you. Naughty).

The best two advocates of this are Grace Latter and also Layla Martin (check out her Wild Woman e-book, I’d really recommend it).

So I googled some, and set out to practise this “fierce self love” (ROAR) to see if it helped to increase my body confidence, and my flagging sex drive. And here’s what happened….


How to fiercely self-love?

Drum roll, please……

To do it, you look in the mirror.

Naked, if you can.

Morning and evening.

And tell yourself you love your body.

And that’s it!

Sounds like bollocks, right?

I kinda thought so too. Hippy dippy bollocks.

But you just say, I love my body. I love my tits. I love my muffin. And that’s it.

It made me LOL so hard.

One, I’m not a big fan of my bod, so I don’t really want to spend precious minutes of my life looking in the mirror at it.

Two, how is me telling me I love me going to make any difference? At best it’s pointless, at worst cringeworthy.

Three, how will I do this in secret so my boyfriend isn’t wondering why I’m chanting manta’s at myself like a naked mad woman whilst he’s eating his porridge.

The struggle is real.

The challenge

So I set myself the task of doing this every morning and every evening before bed for seven days. Just to see. An experiment, if you like.

With the faint hope that it might do something to shift my intense dislike *ahem* uncertainty about my chubby knees and large frame, and therefore increase my ability to enjoy sex and desire for it.

How I found a week of intense self-love.

Day one.

Im stood here.

Stark bollock naked.

Only I don’t have bollocks- I’ve got the fanwa out and exposed for the occasion. In front of the mirror.

I’m listening out intently for the sound of the boyf pounding down the corridor to catch me, mid-new-age mantra checking out my bottom.

I can’t hear him coming, only the sound of him rustling around in the kitchen.

So I take a deep breath, and say out loud.

“I love my bottom”.

Stifling a giggle I turn around and wobble her at the mirror.

“I love my bottom”. I say again, this time a little louder.

Also smirking at the ridiculousness of how I feel. And fighting back the thoughts that are noisily yelling about the bulges and scars and creases that I don’t like.

I imagine turning down the volume, and focus in one hearing my actual voice, out loud.

“aaannnnd, maybe……..” (pause, as I inspect said body and try to pick the least awful bit) “my boobs”, as I shoot off to get showered and lop some clothes over my nuddie bod.

In the evening I waited until the boyf went to clean his teeth, then whizzed off my clothes Bruce Almighty style and picked a different body part to worship.

I picked my arms. I love my arms, I told myself.

I don’t- I fucking hate my arms. They look like puffy french baguettes.

But I chose my arms. And I fiercely loved those babies for the two minutes it took the boyf to clean his teeth and thunder down the corridor before I jumped into bed.

Day one done.

So this was day one. Rather strange. Feeling rather awkward. I feel pretty out of my comfort zone. And no sign of this being a worthwhile experiment.


Days two to four.

The boyf ALMOST caught me on tippy toes trying to inspect my calves and telling myself how much I liked them.

This resulted in me almost toppling over whilst saving the day by reaching for a dusty bag at the top of the cupboard. Phew.

I’m finding the morning easier than the evening for some reason.

The positive voice is definitely getting a little louder, and clearer.

I still have those aches of negative thoughts but I’m trying to do as I would do to a friend and getting them out of my mind by replacing them with positive, kind thoughts.

On the morning of day four I also do a little boob shimmy in the mirror. Why the hell not?

Day five


I have spent so much time looking at me naked, and REALLY naked, not just the few minutes when changing or showering. Me proper starkers.

And it’s quite empowering.

I’m actually thinking I kinda like being naked.

My body isn’t so bad really. It gets me from A to B nicely. And that bit of cellulite in fact looks alright in this light.

I notice I look forwards to having that time to myself, just to compliment myself. And, importantly, I enjoy this new, kinder me.

And I realise that’s what this is.


Practising “body kindness”.

Being NICE to myself. And I think I’m getting fiercer and fiercer as the week goes on.

It’s a weird concept. But one that I think I could grow to like.

It’s in there already- it’s just a case of letting the light get out.

Day six.

I’m actually turned on!

Praise the lord and do the river dance. This is amazing. Could it be from the fierce self-love?

I basically want to be Layla Martin, and if it worked for her, maybe it’ll work for me to?

I feel I’m not fighting myself anymore. Me and my body, we’re together.

We’re a team.

And instead of resisting, I’m accepting.

I’m OK as I am.

Yes I still want to get rid of that mark, that spot, that jiggle.

But right now, I’m not that bad.

Maybe, I’m even…… good?


Day seven.

I am in love with fierce self-love.

I’ve never attempted such an assertive, all out assault on my body confidence before. And I can actually FEEL the difference.

I never, even would’ve thought something so simple could bring such a big difference to my relationship with my body.

But it has.

And I’m not going to stop.

Body kindness is probably the best thing to happen to me in a long while.

It’s only been a week and I actually feel a bit better.

I think it’s also the cumulative effect of just consistently telling myself nice things. It’s a fundamental change in the way I speak to myself. And that’s great!


And I really would advocate doing this for all women. Start however you feel comfortable- with pants on, a cami top, a nightie.

However, what’s important is the fierce bit.

adjective: fierce; comparative adjective: fiercer; superlative adjective: fiercest

showing a heartfelt and powerful intensity.

Put everything you have into it. Will it. Want it. Tell yourself you know it.

It really does work!

How are you, do you think you might try it? Let me know in the comments.




P.S. if you feel super brave, pick your vagina to love on one of the days! Here’s two reasons why you should


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