Which is, at least,a comparatively recent photo. I have good legs; I like my legs.
For the first umpteen years of my life I was convinced I was fat. I spent years hiding and it's only been quite recently that I've looked back at photos, like the one of me in the sea, and thought, 'Damn, you looked good!' What a load of time I wasted feeling ugly and hideous.
I think part of it was down to my cousin. Six months older than me, she was the pretty one, the slim one, the well-dressed fashionable one. I was the poor relation in not only the literal sense of the words. We spent a lot of time together and - I don't think intentionally nastily - she would make these little comments about my hair or my legs or this or that.
And this was in the days before size zero - size 10 was challenging enough - so goodness knows what sort of pressure today's young girls are under.
And everyone knows men prefer curves!