It always starts with a heatwave.
That first streak of warmth in Ireland – when the thermometer nudges past 20 degrees and the sky holds a rare, golden patience – feels like a collective awakening. Shops run out of disposable barbecues. The usual uniform of coats and scarves is cast aside in favour of bare arms and knees. The landscape of Irish summer emerges: children laughing in parks, neighbours gathering in gardens, streets humming with an unfamiliar lightness.
But beneath that surface warmth, something else stirs: a subtle tension, an inner negotiation many of us know all too well. Do I have to wear shorts? Will anyone notice my arms? Is it okay to go sleeveless or wear a swimsuit? For many Irish people, summer digs up complex feelings about how our bodies are seen, judged and valued.
Ireland is a place where modesty has long been a cultural virtue, where the legacy of Catholicism still informs attitudes toward the body, where the idea of “taking up space” can feel almost radical. And now, into this mix, we add a relentless global ideal – the “summer body” as taut, toned, bronzed – filtered through Instagram feeds and glossy advertisements, mostly shaped by cultures far removed from our own climate, wardrobes and ways of being.
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This makes summer an uncomfortable season for many people, where the freedom to bare skin is tangled up with the weight of shame and expectation.
“There’s something uniquely Irish about our relationship to the body,” explains Dr Malie Coyne, a chartered clinical psychologist and author of Love In, Love Out. “We’re not a very exhibitionist culture by nature. There’s often a self-deprecating humour we use to mask shame – comments like, ‘Sure look at the state of me’ or ‘God, I’d never wear that’. It’s a way to deflect vulnerability before someone else can judge us.”
In previous generations, Coyne notes, “women might be taught to be seen, not heard, and that can carry over into how they view their bodies. They might feel like they need to downplay their appearance, not draw attention to themselves”. Add in any body image concerns and the prevalence of smaller, more revealing clothing in the shops and summer can suddenly become quite a triggering time for many people.
“It’s not just about the clothes, it’s about visibility,” says Coyne. “You become more aware of how others might see your body.
“In my practice, I hear people dread events like beach trips, weddings, or even casual family barbecues, because they feel like they need to ‘look their best’ – and often that’s code for ‘look thinner’. There’s a pressure to conform, to perform confidence, even when someone is struggling deeply inside.”
I thought it was just normal to hate your body a bit. That was the culture
This inherited discomfort is not just theoretical. It surfaces in the hallways of schools, in gym classes where bodies are ranked and compared, in casual family conversations where fitness and dieting are quietly endorsed. These cultural scripts have a lasting impact, Coyne says, highlighting how many millennial women have body image issues rooted in the legacy of the media we consumed in our formative years.
“The impact of the 1990s and 2000s on body image is still very much there with us today. People who grew up in that era carry with them these rigid standards of beauty where thinness is at the top of the list,” Coyne says.
“Women were bombarded with images of perfect bodies, unrealistic ideals. That culture definitely contributed to body image issues and eating disorders... I still see remnants of that in my work, with clients struggling with feelings of inadequacy or struggling to meet those impossible standards.” The big challenge for Irish women, says Coyne, is trying to unlearn this deep history of bodily shame, obsession and control. “It’s about unlearning cultural narratives and learning to embrace ourselves without apologising for our presence.”
For Maura Rath, a yoga teacher and founder of the Sunrise Clubbers community, this cultural backdrop shaped a long and often painful relationship with her body. “I started dieting at 13,” Rath recalls. “I thought it was just normal to hate your body a bit. That was the culture. You bonded over wanting to lose 5kg. I honestly believed that was just what women did.”
Her earliest memories of summer involved layers – physically and emotionally. The pressure to “look right” was baked into everything, from school uniforms to swimwear. But over time, Rath’s relationship with her body shifted – slowly, unevenly, through experience and a deeper connection with her actual body, not just its reflection.
“I went to India in 2017 and did the whole Eat, Pray, Love thing. But honestly, it wasn’t until I dove into the philosophy of yoga and started meditating more deeply that I truly thought, ‘Holy shit, my body is a temple’.”
This mindset shift, moving from aesthetics to appreciation, was transformative for Rath. “Yoga helped me see that my body isn’t just this thing I need to make smaller – it’s already doing amazing things. My heart is beating. My breath is moving. That’s a miracle. And when I’m present with my body like that, I don’t think about what I should have worn or what I used to look like. I’m just here. And in that presence, the self-hate disappears,” she says.
Rath teaches yoga online as well as hosting in-person events and yoga retreats, and is determined to create a space where all bodies are accommodated and celebrated.
“My yoga classes are designed for every body. You’d be amazed how many people can’t step their foot to the top of the mat because their tummy is in the way, or they just don’t have the flexibility. So I’m very intentional with how I cue. I never say things like ‘flatten your tummy’ or ‘get your abs’. That old-school fitness language – especially from Pilates and gym culture – can be really damaging,” Rath says.
“I talk about building a strong core, not getting a flat one. And it’s not about pushing to some final ‘perfect’ pose. It’s about what feels good in your body. Even in my online studio, we have women of every size, shape, culture and ability. That inclusivity is central to what I do. I’ve been actively trying to find a plus-size yoga teacher to bring into the team. Representation matters, and I want every woman to look at my classes and think, ‘I can do this. I’m welcome here’.”
Rath is a slim, attractive and blonde, but as an online content creator, she is aware that even her body is somewhat seen as an outlier compared to the ultra-thin online yoga influencers who have become the norm. In Rath’s online videos, she shares the moments where her self-confidence wobbles – worrying about wearing a bikini on holiday, or that people won’t think she’s a good yoga teacher if she’s not as slim as the influencers on #SkinnyTok – the new, awful corner of the internet normalising severe dieting and weight loss (the hashtag was banned by TikTok in June after pressure from regulators). Rath is refreshingly honesty about what body acceptance means in real life. “I don’t wake up every day thinking I’m gorgeous,” she admits. “But I’m not mean to myself any more. I can look at a photo and not zoom straight to what I hate. I can eat an ice cream in a swimsuit without spiralling. That’s the difference.”
This change, Rath explains, is not magic. It’s the result of stepping back from diet culture, embracing outdoor activities like sea swimming, and building supportive friendships where vulnerability is allowed. “Irish people are waking up to how exhausting self-monitoring is,” Rath says. “It robs you of joy. Especially in summer, when life should be lighter.”
Louise O’Reilly is a former international model turned plus-size fashion influencer and body confidence advocate. She is acutely aware of how the body positivity movement that was prevalent in the 2010s is now under threat from a new wave of unrealistic body standards – not just from AI-generated “perfect models”, but from companies whose advertising has regressed to more limited images of beauty.
“We are seeing a shift in advertising structures in Ireland and globally,” O’Reilly says. “We saw the lowest amount of curve models featured in February across all fashion weeks than we’d seen in numerous seasons, and many brands cutting back on diversity and inclusion across their media platforms. I thought as an industry we’d turned a corner but in fact we’ve backtracked.” O’Reilly notes how impactful advertising and social media images are on women’s body image and self-esteem. “Advertising plays a vital role in body image for women and their self-acceptance,” she says.
O’Reilly encourages social media users to curate their feeds with discernment and thoughtfulness. “Summer can be especially tough, with all the pressure to ‘look beach-ready’, so curating your digital space becomes even more important. Follow people who make you feel seen, not smaller,” O’Reilly says.
“Fill your feed with joyful, diverse bodies: people wearing the shorts, the bikinis, the bold dresses. Mute or unfollow anything that triggers comparison or makes you feel like you need to ‘fix’ yourself. Engage with content that lifts you up; whether it’s inspiring, funny or just real. It also means the algorithm on your social media will start showing you more of this kind of content automatically too. Remember that you control your scroll. You deserve a digital space that reflects possibility, not perfection.”
Women who are uncomfortable with their bodies can often use their clothes to hide, falling back on wearing only “slimming” black or promising themselves they’ll buy the cute outfit only when they’ve lost weight – a thankless bargain that simply entrenches the belief that their joy and self-worth should be conditional on their weight. O’Reilly’s Instagram page, is a reprise from that shame-filled attitude. Her bright outfits and style videos have a tone of joyful reclamation – especially when it comes to summer dressing.
“The idea that we have to shrink ourselves or hide in black to be acceptable is something many Irish women have been taught from such a young age. But the truth is: your body is not a ‘before’. It’s not a problem to be solved. It’s your home and it’s worthy of joy, sunshine, colour, and life,” O’Reilly says.
For those who are still struggling with the idea of becoming more visible, O’Reilly recommends starting small. “Add a pop of colour. Try on that swimsuit just for you in your bedroom mirror, not for the world, but for yourself,” she says. “You don’t have to feel 100 per cent confident to show up, you just have to be brave for a few seconds longer than the fear lasts. Because when you do, you realise: the world doesn’t fall apart when you take up space. It actually opens up. And the water? It doesn’t care what size you are – it just wants you to feel free.”
As a new mother, O’Reilly is very aware how often mothers are taught to feel ashamed of their bodies after childbirth, despite it doing something so powerful and awe-inspiring. The rhetoric of mothers needing to “bounce back” after pregnancy and motherhood is pervasive, invalidating and also ageist – highlighting how impossible beauty standards are for women. Be thin, but curvy. Look mature enough to be sexualised, but never age. Society values the body of slim teenage girls, who have so little power, and devalues the body of older women and mothers who are stepping into their power – a key time to make them feel insecure again.
“I think it’s an incredibly toxic mindset and an unnecessary level of pressure when you’ve just gone through this huge shift in your life – you go through a huge identity change and your body has just created a little miracle,” says O’Reilly, who tried to push back against these pressures by just continuing to show up, as she is. “I’m showing up online now with new stretch marks that I don’t feel need an explanation,” O’Reilly says.
Outside of social media, there are writers, artists and activists working to expand our perception and understanding of the body. Writer Sinéad Gleeson has described the body as an archive – a vessel that carries memory, joy, trauma, illness and history. Poet Eavan Boland once captured how women’s bodies are often erased from public life, rendered invisible or shameful. And contemporary voices like Emma Dabiri, Rosaleen McDonagh and Sinéad Burke have illuminated how race, class, and ability intersect with body expectations.
Of course, it’s not just cis women who struggle with body image and insecurity during the summer. Research into men and body image has shown many struggle in silence, often internalising insecurities due to cultural norms that discourage emotional vulnerability. While body image conversations have traditionally centred on women, there is growing recognition that harmful ideals – such as the expectation for men to be lean, muscular, and emotionally stoic – can lead to disordered eating, steroid misuse, and body dysmorphia. Queer men may feel this pressure even more acutely, navigating dating cultures and social spaces where desirability often hinges on achieving a narrow, hyper-fit aesthetic.
For LGBTQIA+ people more broadly, body image issues are often shaped by additional layers of fear, trauma or exclusion. Trans and non-binary people, for example, may face heightened anxiety around visibility during the summer – when swimwear, heat and social events can all intensify feelings of gender dysphoria. Even for those who feel comfortable and confident or have undergone gender-affirming care and experience deep joy and empowerment in their bodies – often described as trans euphoria – there remains the constant need to assess safety in public and social spaces. The decision of how much of themselves to show is not just about comfort, but survival. In a world where visibility can invite both celebration and risk, queer, trans, and non-binary bodies often carry an added emotional weight – making body image not only a personal issue, but a deeply political one.
In Ireland, these intersections are just beginning to be explored in mainstream conversations about body image, but the ripple is growing. For people just beginning to undo decades of culturally-embedded body image issues, Coyne urges people to start small, noting that many people are intimated by the idea of “body positivity”.
“There’s often a misconception that body positivity means you must love every inch of your body every single day, and that’s unrealistic,” Coyne says. For many people, especially those who’ve experienced trauma or long-term body dissatisfaction, that’s a hard ask.” She advocates for what’s known as body neutrality, explaining “it’s not about love or enthusiasm – it’s about neutrality. It’s saying, ‘This is my body. It’s not perfect, but it’s mine, and it does incredible things for me every day’. It’s about saying, ‘I don’t have to love how I look today, but I can still treat my body with respect’. That’s enough.”
Your body, this incredible vessel that carries you through the world, deserves to be appreciated for what it does every single day
As for those of us who will be spending time this summer in front of the mirror, worrying about how we’ll look on a beach or in a photo, the path forward doesn’t have to be dramatic. “Start small,” says Rath. “I’m not going to tell you to just strip off and wear a bikini tomorrow. That’s not realistic. But maybe you start with a mantra in the morning. Something gentle. ‘I am grateful for my body today.’ Say it during meditation. Let it build over time. And when you’re ready, try wearing something you want to wear – a crop top under a T-shirt, maybe. Then one day, take the T-shirt off. At your pace. On your terms.”
Summer in Ireland may never be about bare sunbathing or Instagram-perfect bodies. There will always be the quick cover-ups, the holding of towels, the glances in car mirrors before stepping on to the beach.
But change is happening, quietly and steadily. It’s the friends who laugh together on the beach, not noticing each other’s bodies but their laughter. It is the teenager who posts a no-filter selfie in shorts. It is the mother, salt-haired and sun-speckled, who no longer thinks about her thighs, but about how her body feels after a swim.
For Coyne, the heart of the issue lies in re-aligning our sense of worth. “We’ve been culturally conditioned to believe that beauty is external, and that it’s the most important thing. But real beauty comes from values – kindness, courage, humour, empathy. That’s why people love you. That’s why you’re important to them. And your body, this incredible vessel that carries you through the world, deserves to be appreciated for what it does every single day. That’s a truth I want everyone to hold on to.”
Perhaps that is the most Irish of all summer body rules: not to transform or perform, but simply to be here – soft skin in the sun, salt on the lips, bare legs in warm air, and the quiet strength of self-compassion guiding us forward.
If you or someone you know is struggling with body image or disordered eating, support is available through Bodywhys Ireland (www.bodywhys.ie) or your GP.
