AS JOHN Legend so eloquently puts it in his hit song All of Me: “Love your curves and all your edges. All your perfect imperfections.”

Aaaah. If only we all did. But you know what, I am at the point that, well, I do.

I’m short. I have fine hair. I have a tummy 12 years after having my boy and I still call it my baby-belly.

My breasts are getting larger — not in a, well, perky kind of way, but in a well, I’ll call it voluptuous. Ha!

I don’t have the abs I once did when I was a dancer. I still have some of the strength but I have to admit I haven’t spent as much time on the “physical” me as I should have over the last decade.

I’m not “skinny”. I’m what some may call hour-glassie. Others may term it something else.

But I am me. And you get to a point where you just except it. Embrace it. And stuff those who have a go at any of it.

I like my skin — I do look after it and by looking after it gives me a great excuse to see my friends who happen to run my favoured cosmedical salon. So that’s a positive.

I have thin hair so that also gives me the chance to see my pals who run my favourite hair salon so they can make it the best it can ever be.

I like my legs. As limited in length as they may.

I don’t mind my throaty, deep, occasional drag-queen voice, with its slight lisp and an occasional lazy ‘r’ that appears when I am really tired. Or after I’ve had a few bevies ...

I flick through my Instagram feed sometimes and I see girls and boys on a seemingly endless “journey” to turn their bodies into something that they simply are just not.

I am ALL for getting and being healthy; for doing things in moderation and of course for having an occasional blowout — but I am not going to labour over it; get depressed and care one bit if someone has a go at a slight roll of ‘plump’ that may be somewhere on my bod.

I am alive. I do the best I can and that is all that really matters.

Like anyone on Instagram, I’ve used some hilariously smoky filters that make pics of myself look like the lens has been smeared with vaseline.

It’s actually very funny. And no question, when the mood takes me, I’ll do it again. And again.

But what I wish for everyone in 2015 is that they too can let their insecurities go and learn to love the body they’re in. Maybe you can start by making a list like this?

WHY I’VE LEARNT TO LOVE ABOUT MY BODY:

• It allowed me to have my son

• My body works — better on some days than others (damn that lower back thing that COULD get better if I worked on strengthening my ‘core’) but I am healthy and fit and for that I am very lucky

• I am not mad about swimsuits — who is? — but am I NOT going to forgo the beach or pool because of tummy vanity

• I will never have a thigh gap. Care factor? Zero.

• I don’t plan on going on some mad diet just because everyone else is doing it. I have always stuck to my ‘eat to live, not live to eat’ mantra and it’s worked out OK so far.

• I came to the conclusion a very long time ago that I do not have the vertical ‘presence’ to storm into a room. I’ve had to take the small but (hopefully) effective approach.

• I like wearing make-up. High heels. Red lipstick. Black nails and sexy underwear. Does that make me anti-feminist? Good lord. I don’t think so. It’s just ME.

• I KNOW I should exercise more to keep my heart rate up and any blood pressure down — and each few weeks I DO get on a spurt and do it. But I will surprise myself (and trainer Jade) one day and go for it. Big-time.

• I have my boy; great friends; my family; a partner; a great job; brilliant colleagues. I’m not rich but I have worked hard for every single thing I have.

So body image and whether anyone ‘approves’ of me or not? Well, it really doesn’t seem to matter anymore and I couldn’t be happier about it.