BIKINI season is upon us.

In the past few weeks most women who care about their looks headed to gym in a desperate bid to craft beach bodies.

Most of us go to the beach during the festive season. Ideally we have the whole year to work on our bodies. But somehow this ego-boosting mission is left to the last minute.

I'm always amazed at people who think they can knock their bodies into shape in just two weeks.

Wishful thinking, if you ask me.

A friend has decided to starve herself because "food makes her fat" and her boyfriend wants a girlfriend who's "portable".

I asked her how possible it was to achieve this in just a few weeks. She seemed so determined she couldn't care less about my question.

There just seems to be so much pressure on women to look slim. Men, it seems, are looking for Barbie dolls; pretty face, flat belly, firm behind and toned legs.

If a woman walks down the street wearing a crop top and has a big belly, people ridicule her.

Men, it seems, are allowed to keep their umkhaba (belly). A beer boep is not frowned upon because "it's a sign of wealth". And the wife is expected to take pleasure in this because it shows she's a good cook.

I've seen guys who are bigger than big, so to speak. That is just plain obesity. No amount of umkhaba public relations exercises should obscure the health hazards that come with it.

It reminds me of the time I lost weight and my late grandma was worried.

"Mntwan'am kufuneka utye, ayompilo le [My child you have to eat, this is not healthy]," she said.

She wanted to fatten me up because from her old-fashioned perspective, a woman shouldn't be just bones, she must show a bit of flesh.

Like some women, I also have days when I feel huge and ugly, when I just want to avoid the mirror at all costs. And there are those wonderful days my mirror tells me I could be on the runway.

Then I start singing Prince's song: "Could you be the most beautiful girl in the world? It's plain to see you're the reason that God made a girl." Those are the best days.

After a wellness day at work, colleagues wanted to go on a diet because we were "too big" for our body mass index. We tried eating healthily, but it's not easy.

The smell of Chicken Licken hotwings gets to me.

Having watched the movie, Phat Girlz, I know not all of us are meant to be skinny. But we can't let ourselves go.

Men are not judged. They can eat whatever they like. Ever seen a big man wearing a white shirt and you can see the sweat yet he's still stuffing his face with greasy food.

Who said we, the women, don't want men with lean and firm bodies? Of course, a six or four pack would be the cherry on top.

Men must also reconsider the old notion that salads aren't meant for them. In an attempt to convince themselves to stick to unhealthy diets, some even say: "Andizotya amagqabi, andiyobhokhwe [I won't eat green leaves, I'm not a goat]."

When working on the body, the face can't be left out. Remember back in the day when Eskamel ointment was in vogue? Women, even some men, were into it. They'd apply it to lighten their skin.

But such products have become politically controversial as women are accused of trying to disown their identity of blackness.

Yet skin whitening for many women predates modern-day political correctness.

When I was young, my neighbour used to buy Kiwi light brown polish and instead of polishing her shoes, she would apply it to put a "matt" finish to her face. Back in the day few could afford make-up, facials and the like.

And as my neighbour couldn't afford eyeliner, she would use coal.

Shocking, I know. But it's all in the name of beauty.

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