Body positivity. It’s a phrase we hear so often these days—on social media, in advertisements, and even in casual conversation. We’re told to embrace our bodies, love ourselves for who we are, and reject unrealistic beauty standards that pull us to pieces. But do we, as a country, actually practice what we preach? Where did it all go wrong in our approach to body positivity? What are we simply missing?
On the surface, it seems like we’re advocating for change, we’ve never made so much noise. We see campaigns about embracing different body types and rejecting harmful ideals, but scratch the surface, and you’ll find a deeper issue. In our day-to-day lives, we’re still plagued by body shaming, diet culture, and a discomfort with seeing or being seen in our natural form. The paradox is palpable: we say we believe in body positivity, but yet so many of us still feel uncomfortable in their own skin, afraid of judgment.
In Ireland, body modesty is almost a cultural norm. The idea of being fully accepting of our own bodies—flaws and all—still feels distant for many, no matter how hard we try we fall back into what we know, what feels comfortable for us. Perhaps it’s the influence of centuries of conservative attitudes, or maybe it’s the media’s persistent portrayal of a narrow standard of beauty. But whatever the cause, there’s no denying that we’ve got a long way to go when it comes to truly practicing body positivity as a nation.
This stark contrast became glaringly clear to me when I first dipped my toes into naturism in my late 20s. I didn’t grow up in an environment where body confidence was encouraged, so it was something I had to discover on my own. My first experience as a naturist happened quite unexpectedly during a trip to Austria, when I found myself in a traditional sauna.
There I was, surrounded by people of all ages and body types, none of them hiding or covering up. The sauna culture there was refreshingly open—people simply existing in their natural state, without shame or judgment. At first, I was nervous and self-conscious. It’s only natural to feel this way, but the more time I spent in that environment, the more comfortable I became in my body. The judgment I expected from others simply wasn’t there, it simply did not exist. Instead, there was a silent, collective acceptance of everyone’s uniqueness.
That experience changed me. Soon after, I traveled to other countries where naturism and body acceptance weren’t just ideas—they were practices embedded into the culture. In places like Germany & France I witnessed a level of comfort with the human body that I hadn’t thought possible. People there treated nudity as natural and unremarkable, not something to be sexualized or criticized.
It was a mind-blowing contrast to the body-shaming and judgment that I had always associated with nudity back home. In these countries, people weren’t confined to rigid beauty standards—they were free to simply be. Seeing this was a wake-up call. It became clear that Ireland was miles behind when it came to body positivity. We talked about it, sure, but we weren’t living it—not in the same way.
In Ireland, we still have a tendency to recoil at the idea of nudity, even in contexts that have absolutely nothing to do with sex. Public saunas, nude beaches, or naturist events are far from common here, and when they do exist, they’re often met with raised eyebrows or awkward giggles. Why? Why are we so afraid to be seen as we are? The fear of judgment, embarrassment, or being labelled “different” keeps so many of us trapped in a cycle of body dissatisfaction.
But here’s the thing: true body positivity isn’t just about saying “love your body.” It’s about creating a culture where everyone feels comfortable and accepted in their skin—whether they fit into conventional beauty standards or not. It’s about more than just words or hashtags or an empowering talk here or there. It’s about actions, environments, and attitudes that support genuine self-acceptance.
For me, naturism opened the door to a whole new way of thinking about my body. It allowed me to shed the layers of self-consciousness and anxiety that had built up over the years. I no longer saw my body as something to be critiqued, but as something to be appreciated for what it is and does for me on a daily basis—flaws, scars, and all. The more I immersed myself in this culture on my travels, the more I realized how much every single one of us could benefit from embracing this kind of body freedom. So many people are missing out!
So, where did it all go wrong for us in Ireland? Perhaps we got stuck somewhere between advocacy and action. We tell ourselves we’re progressive and accepting, but our reluctance to truly embrace body diversity tells a different story. If we’re ever going to reach that level of body positivity I witnessed in other countries, we need to challenge the deep-rooted discomfort we have with our own bodies.
It’s time to take a real look: Do we truly practice body positivity in Ireland, or are we just paying lip service to an ideal we don’t fully understand at this present moment in time? Maybe, just maybe, the first step is learning to let go—of judgment, of fear, and of the idea that our bodies must fit into a certain mould to be worthy of respect.
