Can you stomach the itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny bikini?

I JUST bought a bikini. I'm still not sure why, but I think I'm affirming to myself that there's still the teeniest, tiniest, micro-possibility that one fine day I may stride out again, fearlessly with my midriff on show, the way I used to before my once-trim figure was blasted into oblivion in the horrifying ambush that is childbearing.

My new bikini is undoubtedly the most optimistic purchase I've ever made, since I still can't fit into any of the ones I had before I gave birth. But somehow I've managed to convince myself that in the not-so-distant future, this little two-piece might see me gliding along some white-sand beach, as slim and toned as ever, defying gravity with renewed vigour.

So, am I sensible to be aspiring to get my old waistline – and mojo – back, or am I simply being misled and pressured by the images of celebrity yummy mummies, shimmying around and showing off their washboard stomachs five minutes after they've been discharged from the labour ward?

A survey of 1,300 mothers for the internet site Mumsnet reveals the appearance of our post-baby bodies can be a source of real agony for some – "saggy, baggy and without the energy to do anything about it" sums up what many of us feel – but although some psychologists blame the example of skinny celebrity mothers as the reason for our misery, this poll seems to indicate otherwise.

True, 70 per cent of respondents were happy to wear a bikini before they gave birth, but a fairly healthy 37 per cent would also dare to afterwards. (They don't say how soon afterwards – if I get into mine this year, it'll have taken me three years to pluck up the courage. And I'm still only saying "if".)

I don't think our wish to keep up with the Hurleys, the Macphersons or the Klasses is quite as desperate as we're often led to believe.

For example, take this question from the Mumsnet poll: "When you see a celebrity mother revealing a flat tummy in a bikini, how do you feel?" One per cent said "I look as good as she does" (take a bow, you fabulously feisty 1 per cent!); 52 per cent said they could look equally good if they had the same resources (personal trainers, tons of money, 24/7 childcare and, presumably, total self-absorption); 20 per cent professed relief that they didn't need to try so hard; and a glorious 28 per cent said they didn't care.

But only 23 per cent admitted they wished they could look like that. I think this shows a fairly healthy disregard, even contempt, for the improbably svelte images that ordinary mothers find themselves bombarded with. But there's one response missing, which would probably have been mine. Where was the option to say: "I wouldn't believe it?"

Until I'm actually lying on the beach beside Liz, Elle and Myleene and can't see a single imperfection, I won't buy the snapped-back-in-a-minute myth. These women are human. Human skin stretches. Even if it's been nipped and tucked, the texture of a woman's skin will never be exactly the same as it was before she gave birth. She might look good – great, even – but she will never, ever look flawless again. Only the airbrush – or, for film actresses, the body double – can do that for her.

Strangely enough, the paranoia surrounding body image is strongest among younger mothers – 40 per cent of the under-26s surveyed were fretting over not being as yummy as the celebrity mummies. But surely their problem is more to do with competing against their old selves and regretting the lovely, youthful bodies they perceive they have lost.

Maybe it's because I'm older, and my first flush of youth disappeared down the pan long before I got pregnant, but I'm hugely proud of the way my body has survived the last couple of years, so although its former glories have gone for good, I'd like to give what's left a celebratory outing.

Ironically, one of the immaculate celebrity mothers most often wheeled out to make us feel bad about ourselves is Victoria Beckham (three pregnancies; three caesareans), who is never, but never, photographed in a swimsuit, far less a bikini. So if you're tempted to let it all hang out on the beach this summer, but feel you can't because you're not as perfect as you used to be, have courage. Even in a full-length Edwardian flannel bathing dress, you'll be one up on Posh.