I was an unfortunate looking teen. By the time I'd reached 13, I'd been beaten with the puberty stick, growing up and out, in all the wrong places.

"You have chicken legs."  - Boy from school

"Your butt is a weird shape. It sticks out."  - Another boy from school

"You've certainly got your grandmother's hips."  - My father

"Ha! Look at your little boobs!" - My aunt

I was taller than all the girls in my class, lanky, with knees that knocked together. Then came the hips (my grandmother's apparently), the disappointing chesticles, and finally, the puppy fat made an appearance, padding out all the places that probably could have gone without.

I wasn't quite sure where my body was going with all this, so I just hung in there and waited to see the final product.

And I waited. And I waited some more.

And then it hit me: I was 16. Puberty had long done its damage, and this is what I was left with.

My lanky, playfully pudgy, flat-chested, bubble-bottomed body was complete.

Now, that might have been ok, if it wasn't for the body I had already created for myself, in my head. The body that, as it turned out, was endlessly more beautiful than mine had come to be, with toned abdominals and arms, pert and full breasts, and slim, strong legs.

But that body was never going to be mine. It already belonged to someone else. Ms. Britney Spears.

This very photo was posted on my wardrobe door when I was 16 years old. This amazing creature was the root of my inspiration, and my eventual despair.

She had been my idol for years, and had become, in my eyes, the most beautiful woman in the world. And at age 16, I came to the realization that I would never, ever, be as beautiful as Britney.

Stop Being Crap: Be happy with your body

We all do it.

We compare ourselves to celebrities, models, our friends, and even people we walk by on the street.

Look at her perfect legs, we think. I wish I had a waist as tiny as hers. Her butt makes mine look like two scoops of melting ice-cream. Her boobs are so big, she could use them as flotation devices in an water emergency. I'd just drown.

And so on...and so on.

We're constantly making note of beautiful body parts we see as we go about our days, putting ourselves down in the process. No matter what kinds of awesomeness we've got going on, there's always someone that's got bigger boobs/smaller thighs/thinner arms than we do.

And here's the bad news - if we're thinking like that, forget about being like Britney - we'll never even be able to like ourselves.

I challenge you, and I challenge myself, to get a little perspective on the situation.

• There's no airbrush in real life - Let's put it this way. If you were in your pizza-stained pyjamas on a Wednesday night, with blotchy skin, oily hair and a weird rash on your neck, you'd look a-maz-ing with proper lighting and some airbrushing. Fact.
• Your employer does not require you to be a certain size - Models have to tiny. If they're not tiny, they'll probably lose their jobs. Do you think you'd eat that bag of chips if your paycheck depended on it?
• On that note: You are not paid to work out - If Jessica Alba has an action movie coming up, she'll probably spend 6-8 hours a day in the gym preparing her body. You are paid to spend 6-8 hours a day sitting at your desk.
• Looking like Britney is now a bad thing - Poor, sweet Britney. She's still beautiful, but it appears that she has this same picture on her wall as inspiration. Ill-fitting tummy-baring tops, booty shorts, fishnets and tangled hair extensions are tough to pull off as a 30 year-old mother of two...or, as literally any woman on earth.

And those girls you see in the street?

• Are probably just as insecure as you - If you look her up and down, she'll just imagine you're judging her. She'll never assume it's because you think she's gorgeous.
• Are probably jealous of you too - While you're wishing for her long legs, she's most likely lusting after your perfect curves. Think about that!

There's nothing wrong with appreciating a beautiful body - why not appreciate your own sometimes?