Latex & Confidence: What Changed for Me

Time for a little transparency.

I’ve always been a confident person - but for many years, that confidence was used to survive rather than to thrive. I stood my ground, yes, but standing your ground can still mean standing still.

Latex isn’t a “type” — it’s confidence, creativity, and self-expression.

Latex looks bold… but it feels like coming home.

Confidence looks different on everyone… this is what it looks like on me.

Looking back, I can see how I dulled parts of myself without even realising it. I wore clothes I liked, I showed up as capable and strong, but I didn’t truly explore who I was or what lit me up - largely because the relationships I was in didn’t leave much space for that.

When I was married, my life gradually shaped itself around my then husband and his business while I remained employed. My social world existed almost entirely through work, especially after becoming a parent. By the time I divorced - after twenty years together - I had lost myself and had no personal female friendships at all. Confidence kept me functioning, but it didn’t help me flourish.

I’ll fast-forward through the next chapter.

There was dating. Reinvention. Self-employment (which was a huge confidence boost). Single parenting. And then, another challenging relationship that saw me working from home in flared black yoga pants and baggy clothes - which I now recognise as a form of protection.

After that ended, I spent several years single again, rebuilding myself and my business, while navigating some very real challenges with my son. Confidence, at that stage, was resilience - necessary, but exhausting.

And then Latex Lord G entered my life, bringing with him shiny rubber, wholehearted encouragement, and something I hadn’t experienced in a long time: unconditional positive regard.

Our relationship worked from day one. No ironing required - especially not the latex (never, ever do that). We want the best for each other. We support each other fully. We laugh a lot. Whether we’re wearing latex or trail running in Lycra.

That kind of acceptance is deeply empowering. And so, it turns out, is latex.

Latex gave me permission.

Permission to take up space.

Permission to enjoy my body exactly as it is.

Permission to explore another aspect of myself without apology.

Wearing latex changed how I felt about my body. Instead of focusing on weight or perceived flaws, I loved how I looked. You don’t shrink in latex - you grow taller, metaphorically speaking. You shine. It’s not something you put on to hide in the corner.

That said, I fully understand why some people do choose to keep this part of themselves private. Latex carries assumptions - that it’s “too much”, overtly kinky, or something that must be hidden to avoid judgement.

I know that judgement well.

My own love of latex - and sharing it publicly - led to estrangement from my son when he discovered my Instagram account. I understood his initial shock. Three years on, nothing has changed. That story is for another time, but I acknowledge it here because latex, for me, is symbolic of something bigger: being true to yourself, even when it’s uncomfortable.

When we embrace what fires us up, we grow.

When we suppress ourselves to please others, no one truly benefits.

That comes with an important caveat: this is about living from the heart, not deliberately harming others. If behaviour causes harm, that’s a different conversation - one that deserves support, compassion, and self-reflection. We are all shaped by our experiences, and change is always possible.

Latex has opened doors for me. It’s connected me with a global community I could never have imagined twenty years ago - when I had to rebuild my life from scratch.

I didn’t have a close local friendship circle at that point - friends were scattered across the country or off travelling, and socialising often happened as couples rather than something I felt part of.

What I did have, though, was the unwavering support of my family. My parents were brilliant, my brother was there for me, and I shamelessly hijacked his friends just so I could get out and be around people again. I was also supported by work colleagues, who became an important part of my social world at that time.

That support mattered more than I probably realised back then - and I’ll always be grateful for it.

My confidence grew through latex, through walking my talk, through sharing my truth publicly, and through navigating challenges that required courage again and again.

Being myself - fully - allows me to inspire and encourage others to do the same. And if my content, whether on social media or through custom clips, helps even one person feel more confident, more seen, or more at ease with who they are, then it’s doing exactly what it’s meant to do.

And for me, that’s what latex - and confidence - are really about.