Different shapes, same hate: Taryn Brumfitt. She knows because she used to do the same. "You are so disgusting. You shouldn’t go out. Your husband doesn’t want to be with you. You are gross. Look at how your tummy wobbles.'' This was what the Adelaide-based mum of three used to tell herself when she looked in the mirror. So she decided to do something about it. What followed involved a bikini contest and a blog, along with transformation photos and footage that have gone viral. So much so that Rosie O'Donnell has invested in Taryn's latest project and hers was one of the Huffington Post's most read stories last week, generating 258,000 Facebook ''likes''.

Taryn's 'before' shot. But, this is no ordinary transformation story. In fact, the narrative is decidedly backwards. Following the birth of her third child, Mikaela in 2009, Brumfitt headed to a cosmetic surgeon. She wanted a tummy tuck and a boob job. After years of fighting ''unsuccessfully'' to get her pre-baby body back, she was delighted, she says, at the thought of getting ''it all fixed''. Taryn's 'after' shot. A week later, while watching her daughter play, she was struck by a question. ''How am I going to teach her to love her body if her mum can't do the same?''

Plagued by the thought, she hit the ''rock-bottom'' of self-loathing. Taryn's brother Jason, with Sean Penn, on the set of Thin Red Line. ''I felt so trapped,'' she said. ''I wanted the surgery for me, but I couldn't do it for her.'' Then another thought occurred to her: ''I wonder whether it's possible to love my body without surgery?'' The thought grew and every time she looked at herself in the mirror and started to tell herself she was disgusting or fat she stopped herself. ''I had to fake it until I made it,'' she says. ''It started really slowly and was a conversation of 'what if?'''

She began a blog called Body Image Movement about her journey towards self-acceptance. ''I know if I can change, then I other women can change too,'' she says. ''So many women feel [bad about themselves] and they don't want to feel it any more.'' It wasn't just about changing her thoughts, but her approach to exercise and eating, too; making healthier choices to ''feel better'', rather than punish herself. In the midst of this quest remained curiosity about the typical transformation – the ''fat'' to ''thin'' fantasy where life and self-perception miraculously perfect themselves to match perfectly honed limbs. She began training two to three hours a day, ate a protein-dense diet and ''didn't have much time to be with my family''. ''I looked healthier, but I was extremely imbalanced,'' says Brumfitt, who showed off her new form in front of more than 700 people in a 2012 INBA bikini contest. ''I was really grumpy ... it's not easy to have that body.''

She concluded that the shining image doesn't always represent the reality. ''I did have the perfect body and, you know what, nothing changed about how I felt about my body.'' The result of the experiment was Brumfitt's surprising ''before'' and ''after'' shots. Her ''before'' picture is from the bikini contest, all toned, fake-tanned limbs, drawn-in belly, glamour make-up and megawatt smile. It contrasts with the ''after'' photo, which shows an attractive, smiling blonde with pale skin and the supple curves of a woman who is toned in some parts, soft in others.

The project to create EMBRACE – pegged as ''The documentary that will create global change'' – has already raised $152,000 and the trailer has had more than 3 million views. Loading ''We are constantly told to be something other than what we are,'' she says. ''That we are gross or that we need to change ... We're not encouraged to love our bodies unless they conform to one idea of beauty ... but beauty is so much more. We need a different currency for beauty. We have to change the currency of health and beauty.''

And that starts with challenging our perceptions, she says. On her blog, in response to the ''trolls'', she writes: ''I’ll think of you next year as I take my healthy, wobbly belly across my first triathlon finish line. I’ll remember to salute you with my middle finger teamed with a positive and chirpy, ''Go f*ck yourself!''