The Real Beauty Debate

Oi! Lagerfeld! No!

2012-02-10T12:42:00.000-08:00

This week, a reporter asked the immensely talented and resplendently beautiful Adele what she thought of barely-disguised-Nazi and notorious body fascist Karl Lagerfeld and she said “his fashion designs are ok, but, I’ll tell you what: He can’t sing for shit”.

Of course, that didn’t happen.

As we all know, the reality is that Karl Lagerfeld was asked what he thought of Adele at which, in the least surprising statement ever to escape anyone’s lips, he branded the singer “too fat”.

Let’s examine that: He branded the SINGER “too fat”. Too fat for what, precisely? If Pavarotti proves anything, it’s that size isn’t any sort of hindrance when it comes to belting out a good tune.

Simply because one is a fashion designer, does not give one carte blanche to judge those who aren’t models by one’s own incredibly narrow beauty standards. Which brings me to my original point: This turn of events is as ludicrous as if Adele had chosen to comment on Lagerfeld’s singing ability.

Furthermore, as someone who teaches self-esteem classes in schools, it saddens me that Lagerfeld feels it’s appropriate to give the message that no matter how talented, successful, wealthy or, indeed, beautiful a person may be, it is ultimately how fat or thin they are perceived to be upon which they will be judged.

And then we wonder why eating disorders are rife amongst teenagers.

On a less body confidence related, and slightly more political note: Lagerfeld has a documented history of anti-Semitism and xenophobia. Why, OH WHY are we publishing this man’s views in any sort of publication, simply because he designs a few nice outfits?

It’s time the fashion industry realised it’s not as arty and important as it thinks it is and that comments which narrow the all-important notion of a spectrum of beauty or persecute a particular race of people will not be tolerated. Boycott Chanel.

There's More than One Way to be Anorexic

2012-02-08T15:40:00.000-08:00

I’m a little baffled by a war which seems to be being waged by certain ‘awareness raising’ campaigners on the subject of the ‘right’ way to have anorexia (a completely counterproductive and time wasting debate to begin with, so I don’t propose on spending too much time on it).

Anorexia, it seems, is a notoriously competitive field. Current and past anorexics battle to have plumbed the most crippling lows and reached the most dangerous BMI, thus claiming the title of ‘most knowledgeable in their field’.

I wouldn’t have dreamed of branding myself as a body image 'expert' before working alongside the All Parties Parliamentary Group on Body Image, speaking to more than 6,000 teenagers on the topic, reading the thousands of stories sent into the Body Gossip campaign, attending conferences where the most breaking research is presented by the world’s leading experts and reading every morsel of information I could get my hand on.

My eating disorder was my own, private, experience and, just as I am unique, so was my experience of first anorexia and then bulimia nervosa.

There are a myriad of different ways to abuse food and people do it for all sorts of reasons.

And I’m sorry to break this to the people who claim to feel patronised by the idea, but sometimes eating disorders ARE simply because of triggering websites, fashion magazines and peer pressure.

All over the country, the parents of my students are tying themselves in knots, reasoning that their children must have suffered abuse or some other horrific childhood incident because that’s the only reason someone gets an eating disorder, right?

Wrong.

Yes, eating disorders are complex. But acknowledging that they are complex also means acknowledging that one’s own experience is a drop in a bucket of 1.1 million in the UK alone. It’s not all inclusive.

The fact is that teenagers all over the country are starving themselves for days at a time, purging by vomiting or taking laxatives and exercising compulsively to achieve an entirely unrealistic beauty ideal. I know because they tell me. You can't get more empirical than that.

The pedantic brigade are spending far too much time hypothesising about why this behaviour isn’t a ‘real’ eating disorder and not enough time acknowledging that our young people are in the grips of a low self-esteem epidemic. Whatever the root causes, the effect is the same: A nation prepared to sacrifice its own health.

Eating disorders can claim anyone as their victim, regardless of age, race, social background, sexuality or gender. And, as a former bulimic, I have to add, regardless of size/the dreaded BMI.

Which is why ‘Gok’s Teens’, screened this week, a programme which DOESN’T present eating disorders and body insecurity as something only suffered by institutionalised five stone teenage girls is a magnificent feat of televisual brilliance. Furthermore, it does not claim to be an expose of eating disorders, it claims to reveal the naked truth about teens. It's right there in the title, people.

And I’m not just saying that because I’m in it.

(well, maybe I am a bit….)

The Gok Delusion

2012-02-05T07:27:00.000-08:00

In May last year, my business and non-sexual life partner Ruth Rogers rang me squealing in a most un-Ruth Rogers like manner (she is usually, irritatingly, the epitome of cool).

“We just had a call from Maverick TV! Gok Wan. GOK WAN wants to work with us!!” she said.

“What, THE Gok Wan?” I replied, rather stupidly (I am bereft entirely of anything approaching Ruth’s coolness).

Of course, it was THE Gok Wan, as opposed to the veritable hoards of his fellow British celebrities who share his name.

And so, the day of filming approached. The arrangement was that Maverick would gate-crash a Body Gossip film shoot. Hence, when Gok made his entrance the only people who didn’t get to fling themselves on him in star-struck delight were Ruth and I, who were trapped filming in a room hotter than the surface of the Sun. (Tip: When arranging a film shoot during an unseasonably hot Spring, in a noisy urban side street (meaning windows cannot be opened) ensure the venue has air conditioning.)

Lynsey Tash, our inhumanly capable right hand-gal and Organiser Extrodinaire burst into the sauna-cum- studio. “GOK IS HERE!” she exclaimed, breathlessly. Ruth and I suddenly took on the demeanour of startled meerkats. “But it’s ok. He’s happily chatting to everyone and playing with Danielle’s camera”.

“Oh” we thought. Somehow, we’d imagined Gok might swoop in wearing a cloak-like pashmina and oversized sunnies, demand a room temperature cappuccino with extra foam and sit sullenly and impatiently in the corner until filming commenced. Yes, we knew that on screen he is charismatic, funny, caring and animated, but, we reasoned, surely no one has enough reserves of energy to be like that all the time?

Turns out, the Gok you see is the Gok we got. Which happily confirms that the entire female population of Britain are completely correct in their unwavering loyalty to him. When I shook hands with Gok the first thing he said to me was “Wow! Aren’t you tall? I’m not used to not being the tallest person in the room” at which stage Ruth pointed out that I was wearing utterly ridiculous shoes (as per usual) and he said “power heels! Why not?”.

The entire experience was reminiscent of those situations where you meet someone you really like in a bar, get a bit squiffy and proceed to compliment each other incessantly to convey the part-genuine, part-wine-induced feelings of love growing strong in your bosom. Accept there was no alcohol involved (thank goodness, or I may have humped his leg).

Of course, in my previous incarnations as a model and musician, I met my fair share of ‘slebs’. I’d adopted a rule: The less famous the celebrity, the more likely they are to be a knob-head. Which Gok, as someone who cannot walk down the street without being harassed by scores of screeching girls in a way that immediately conjures the word ‘Beatlemania’ , totally bore out (totes famous, not a trace of knobheaddery).

A couple of days later, Ruth and I met Gok outside Parliament as part of an elite, ninja* team of body confidence experts who would help him teach the country’s largest ever body confidence lesson. (*note, none of us, to my knowledge, were actual ninjas. It just seemed like an appropriate sort of word).

Gok came bounding up to where Ruth was trying to coax me across some cobbles (I was wearing stupid shoes. Again) and greeted us like old friends. Which I suppose we were, if one defines ‘old friends’ as ‘people who have spent a day sweating profusely on one another’. It was only as we were debating that eternal conundrum - ‘does David Bowie have some sort of sock/codpiece stuffed down his leggings in the film Labrynth?’ - that we realised there was a camera about 3 inches away from our respective faces. Only Bowie knows whatever happened to that footage.

Over lunch in the canteen, I had a sudden realisation. I have a crush on Gok Wan. Which is, of course, totally inappropriate considering the professional nature of our relationship and the fact that I have one too many X chromosomes to be his type. Up close, Gok is beautiful. He has eyes which make your soul melt like brie in a microwave and a flawless, caramel complexion which makes you want to lick his face.

“Erm, are you alright, Natasha?” he asked. I realised I was actually staring at him. Mouth slightly ajar, head cocked to one side, chin on palm – Which is what I do when I love someone a little bit. “Yes, yes fine” I replied silently adding “PLEASE DECIDE YOU’RE NOT GAY AFTER ALL AND WANT TO MAKE ME YOUR WIFE!”.

I’m sure I’m not the first girl whose heart and loins have been touched (metaphorically, not literally. This isn’t a kiss and tell) by the fabulous Gok.

What I can categorically say is this: My suspicions that the slightly snooty young man I met in a North London pub about a year ago was a liar and a bit of a twat when he proclaimed that he had “worked with Gok” and that “he was a NIGHTMARE”, were totally founded.

Gok is as sparkly, starry, glittery and exuberant as you’d expect. He is also humble, self-effacing and exudes genuine warmth. To see footage of Ruth and I being seduced by his loveliness, tune into Gok’s Teens: The Naked Truth – Tuesday 7th Feb, 8pm, channel 4.

The Sunday Times Re-Ignites the Breast Implant Debate (and my Rage)

2012-01-31T01:07:00.000-08:00

Oh, Sunday Times Magazine. I used to think you were so magnificent……

For those of you unfamiliar with The Sunday Times Magazine – They have regular columnists who include the resplendent Caitlin Moran (who is unwaveringly entertaining, articulate and right about absolutely everything). Every week we’re treated to the equally diverting ‘Things You Only Know if You’re Single’ (v.g.) and ‘I don’t give a monkey’s about…….’ (we do love a rant). I always try, and fail, not to enjoy Giles Coran’s restaurant review (he was a big mean-y during a radio debate with my Body Gossip co-Captain Ruth Rogers and I am nothing if not fiercely loyal).

There’s also this someone who calls herself Daisy Waugh. Until last Sunday I had no opinion of her at all. I couldn’t remember a single thing she had written. I vaguely remembered her photo – Slim, blonde, face pulled a little too tightly, slightly smug general demeanour.

Blog readers, this is a direct quote from her 29/02/12 column:

“It’s no surprise that the recent unhappy breast-implant leakage has the fleece-wearing, cake-eating, boob-sagging flag bearers for ‘inner beauty’ smacking their lips with told-you-so glee.”

She went on to suggest that any ‘normal’ person with sufficient income would opt to have any surgical procedure in the pursuit of youth and that breast implants are ‘self-improvement’.

Breast implants are not ‘self-improvement’. They could be, depending on your point of view ‘boob improvement’. They will not ‘improve’ your mind, character or disposition, however much those adverts for cosmetic surgery companies attempt to persuade us otherwise. Having two lumps of plastic shoved under your skin cannot make you more successful, more loved or more worthy.

Of course, there are exceptions to my condemnation of breast surgery. I believe strongly that implants should continue to be used for the purpose for which they were invented, i.e. reconstruction of breasts lost to cancer.

Neither will I ‘do a Daisy Waugh’ and make sweeping generalisations about the people who opt to go under the knife for purely aesthetic purposes. It would be so easy for me to condemn them all as vain, vacuous, lazy, wag-wannabe, pneumatic, attention seeking laughing stocks. But I’m possessed enough of reality to realise that this isn’t the case.

One thing is for certain – We shouldn’t be asking “what would you 'have done' if you had the money?” rather we should be asking “what WOULDN’T you 'have done' if we didn’t live in such an insanely body image obsessed culture?”.

Breast implants take something which should be for the pleasure of the owner, i.e. our breasts, and turn them into objects of sexual gratification for another party. Our bodies are the only thing we truly own and they are there for more than simply looking “good” . They are there to allow us to do the things we want to do with our lives – to run, to laugh, to shag – If they happen to look pretty that’s an unexpected bonus.

We now live in a world where the average teenager is blithely unaware of what a natural breast actually looks like – so saturated are we with perfectly spherical, round, hard artificial silicone substitutes.

The PIP implants scandal is very sad, and I have genuine sympathy for the women embroiled in it. But, by the same token, I’m pleased that this story has come to light – Breast enhancement was starting to be perceived, not only as an inevitability, a part of one’s ‘grooming’ routine, but also as an entirely risk free procedure. I hope now that anyone considering a medical procedure for purely cosmetic reasons might have been given a reason to pause.

Daisy Waugh, I do not own a fleece. My partiality to cake is no more unusual than your average person. I have a blinding pair of natural norks. Heck, I even wear makeup and heels. But I am still an advocate of inner beauty, because it’s so much more important than the outer version. It takes 10 minutes to paint my face in the morning. But it’s taken 30 years to develop my character.

The Real Cost of Sensationalist TV

2012-01-23T07:42:00.000-08:00

On Thursday 26th January, I will be hitting the airwaves on the Radio 5 Live Midnight Debate, discussing the impact of sensationalist, body-image related TV documentaries. There’s been a spate of them recently – “Accused: The 74 Stone Babysitter”, “Cherry Healey: Like a Virgin” and “Dying to Be Thin”, to name a few.

I will argue that, whilst awareness of body image issues undoubtedly needs to happen, it’s also crucial to do it in right way. Exploiting extreme case studies for shock value and wheeling out research that’s at least 15 years out of date probably isn’t the right way to go about it.

Of course there are some great people in the media doing amazing work – Gok Wan’s example (and, incidentally, I thought Kate Thornton’s Channel 5 Documentary: Anorexia My Secret Past represented a huge step in the right direction). But is all their hard-work being undone by shows which treat body image issues as light entertainment? Most of us would condemn the concept of a Victorian Freak Show: But did it ever truly go away?

Body Gossip is about real people with real, complex, subtle, beautiful stories. We base our campaign on the premise that everyone has a body, and everyone feels a certain way about that body, so everyone can contribute to the debate. Body image is a far-reaching and multi-faceted issue, which affects people who aren’t supersized, aren’t super-skinny and are likely to be wearing clothes. At present, that’s not the message being given to the public.

I will argue this isn’t just annoying: It’s dangerous too. While television reduces people to two- dimensional stereotypes, defining them by their genetics and circumstances, as opposed to their achievements, not only are health myths being perpetuated that might potentially endanger lives (see my complaint re “Dying to be Thin” below), but we’re also nurturing a generation of people utterly devoid of meaningful ambition. After all, television tells them, they live in a world where it’s your economic situation, weight, sexual orientation, alcohol/drug intake or propensity for getting naked at any available opportunity which defines you, rather than what you positively contribute to society.

With the average UK adult spending a, frankly staggering, 25 hours per week having such codswallop beamed into their brains by the little box in the corners of their living rooms, isn’t it time Television Production Companies started acknowledging their responsibility to treat body image issues with the sensitivity and intelligence they deserve?

We want to get people talking about this issue – tweet me with your views at BodyGossipTash, use the tag #BodyGossip.

Remember to tune into Radio 5 Live at Midnight on Thursday 26th – I’ll also be sharing my thoughts on the implications of this phenomenon within the gay community on the SoSo Gay website in the morning.

The People's Panel: Body Image

2012-01-23T07:16:00.000-08:00

Last week, the Guardian newspaper invited the public to write 300 words on the diet industry/body image, in response to the AnyBody March to Parliament. Here is what I wrote:

The People’s Panel: Body Image

All adverts for diet industry products and services (and there are thousands of them, glaring down upon us loftily from billboards, on the pages of glossy magazines, on television - you cannot swing low fat fromage frais without hitting an advert for something weight-loss related in today’s world) have the same format. A small, grainy photograph of a miserable looking overweight person dressed in what could generously be described as a misshapen potato sack accompanies a large, professionally taken glossy picture of the same person, newly styled and half their former size. “I lost 10 stone in 5 minutes!” the headline screeches, as they pose in an approximation of unadulterated joy, apparently delighted with their skinny selves.

Because fat people cannot possibly be happy, you see. Fat people cannot be stylish. Fat people cannot be successful or popular. Fat people aren’t loved, or respected. Heck, fat people can’t even afford a half decent camera, it seems.

And this is the message the people of Britain, and in particular a generation of already tragically body-conscious young people, receive every single day. While ‘research’ based on an antiquated and misleading notion of ‘BMI’ tells us 66% of the country are clinically ‘obese’. And we wonder why depression, self-harm, eating disorders and body dysmorphia are rising meteorically.

There’s never been a better time to take a stark look at what our obsession with body image is doing to our society and to take a stand. And that’s why today I took to the streets of London with an equally impassioned group of men and women who were angered, disillusioned and downright disgusted by a billion-pound industry which relies, crucially, on our insecurity. I hope they listened.

Dying to be Thin: Response from ITV re my Complaint

2012-01-23T07:10:00.000-08:00

Thanks to everyone who facebook-ed/tweeted/commented/emailed me to express their agreement with my complaint to ITV1 regarding their programme ‘Dying to be Thin’. To those people: I wish I had better news vis a vie ITV’s response. Below is the load of sanctimonious, emotive old twaddle I received by way of reply, which failed to acknowledge or address any of my original complaint, other than to say “we DIDN’T do that” (which shows the intellectual maturity of a five year old):

Dear Ms Devon,

Thank you very much for your email regarding the Tonight programme – Dying to Be Thin (5/1/12)

The purpose behind this Tonight programme was to examine certain eating disorders, dispel some myths associated with them and to raise awareness.

We believe we achieved this as almost four million people watched the programme which received an overwhelmingly positive response. We have just heard that B-eat received five times the number of calls they usually receive – mainly from parents who believed their children were displaying signs of an eating disorder. B-eat who worked with us from the time the programme was commissioned was totally prepared for the volume and type of calls they might receive and have reported to us that all calls were dealt with and all concerns, from parents, were handled.

We did not suggest that anorexia and bulimia were the same illness. We were talking about figures and said that these are two specific and well known eating disorders which are on the rise.

We consulted with both Dr Tony Jaffa at the Phoenix Centre and Dr Dee Dawson throughout our research and filming and did not at any point in the film suggest that you are only anorexic if you weight 5 stone. In the programme we highlighted the point that eating disorders “are complex mental illnesses.”.

The programme did give hope to carers. We featured the case of Lisa, who, our reporter Fiona Foster, met eight years ago and who was anorexic at that point. She has now recovered and we felt that showing her recovery left parents and sufferers with the most positive message - that children can recover from anorexia.

The Eating Disorders Association - B-eat was prepared for all types of calls from viewers and was able to handle them all. We also had the number for Anorexia, Bulimia, Care on our website.

The part of the programme focusing on young girls looking at pictures of themselves was used to show that girls as young as seven are aware of different body shapes and the significance of these shapes to them, even at such a young age.

The programme resonated with parents across the country and we were contacted by one couple who thanked ITV for saving their daughter’s life after the programme prompted her to open up to her parents about her anorexic feelings and talking to them about how to deal with her feelings.

We appreciate your concerns and at ITV we always seek to make responsible programmes. If we make a further programme looking at eating disorders in the future we will bear these concerns in mind.

Yours sincerely,
Elaine Carlton
Development Producer, Tonight

Storming Parliament (Again)

2012-01-16T15:40:00.001-08:00

It only seems like 5 minutes ago I was storming Parliament with Gok Wan, in my totally inappropriate shoes, campaigning for body confidence lessons to be put on the National Curriculum. But today I found myself there again, this time in the company of the Magnificent Beast that is Susie Orbach, in a protest against the diet industry.

Here are some of the Body Gossip team, proudly wielding our stupidly large banner in a defiant manner (that rhymes, I am a secretly talented rapper).

My beef with diets, people who advocate diets and those poor, dull, miserable, ultimately-doomed to failure souls who actually embark on them, is endless. What it essentially boils down to, however, is this:

There are two types of health we need to be concerned with, as human beings – Our physical health, and our mental health. And however much the diet industry might try to convince us otherwise, it is never, EVER psychologically healthy to wake up in the morning and know exactly what you will eat that day. Pre-planning is just another word for ‘fixation’. ‘Diet’ is just another word for ‘food obsession’.

So, by all means educate people to make healthy food choices. But by prescribing our food behaviour, the diet industry teaches us to ignore and deny our hunger, to channel our considerable talent and energy into an never-ending quest for thinness and to spend a heck of a lot of our hard earned pennies in the process.

ENOUGH.

'Dying to be Thin' - Why Awareness-Raising is a Double -Edged Sword

2012-01-09T06:20:00.000-08:00

I’m not ashamed to admit it, Blog readers, there was a small, illogical part of me what was filled with irrational hope when I saw that ITV1 was screening a programme called ‘Dying to be Thin’ last week. Aired at 7.30pm, it’s a rare thing for the televisual equivalent of the Sun Newspaper to deign to ping something about such a sensitive issue out to the masses during prime time. It had the potential to be a gigantic leap forward in awareness raising.

Of course there was another, more logical part of my mind which was only too aware that in terms of emotional evolution, ITV1 is about 50 years behind every other channel. There was every chance that this could be a bucket-load of sensationalist old crap. Unfortunately, this part of my mind proved right.

The half hour show focussed on a handful of female, teenage, and severely underweight sufferers of anorexia nervosa, wheeling out time-old clichés, such as the sufferer standing in front of a mirror to reveal that – shock, horror! – she believes she is fat! They also conducted a ‘cutting edge’ (read: already used about a gazillion times during programmes on the much more progressive channel 4 and BBC3) experiment, which involved photographing young girls in close-fitting garb, showing them a full size image of themselves, and 4 additional ones made both larger and smaller than they are in reality, and asking them which one they prefer. “These girls are OBSESSED with body image” the presenter cried, in apparent disbelief – Of course they are – Show me anyone who wouldn’t feel a bit body conscious and, frankly, weirded out by being filmed in this bizarre hall of mirrors.

The sole redeeming feature was a 10 second VT of the magnificent Jo Swinson MP, talking sense.

As I heaved a huge sigh of disappointment, switched off the television and dragged myself into the kitchen to make a lovely soothing cup of tea, I was only mildly irritated. Then my phone rang.

“What did you think?” my friend asked.
“Load of clap trap”. I replied.
“Yes, but it’s a step in the right direction. On ITV1! At Prime Time! And most people don’t know as much about eating disorders as you do – For most people it will have taught them something”.

Which got me thinking – Was that programme ‘better than nothing’? And do all the people who work tirelessly to put out information which might genuinely give someone an understanding of eating disorders deserve something more than ‘better than nothing’?

It would be remiss of me to blame ITV1 entirely. This programme was the epitome of the tendency by some sectors of the media to turn serious mental health issues into light entertainment. Time after time organisations like Body Gossip and Men Get Eating Disorders Too have metaphorical doors slammed in our disillusioned faces by the popular press , as we present to them our well-reasoned, well-researched and suitably complex angles on the body image debate and are told “unless you can supply before-and-after-pictures of some case study we can exploit, or can find someone a little bit famous to say it instead, then bugger off”.

It’s little wonder, then, that most people’s understanding of eating disorders is at best rudimentary. The amount of cab drivers who have tried to give me their ‘informed wisdom’ on the topic, which essentially amounts to “that’s when birds think they’re fat, but they’re not, innit? Tell them men like something to grab hold of”. Thank you, for that.

So, the purposes of this blog are two-fold. Firstly, I’m going to share with you the complaint letter I wrote to ITV1, expressing in detail my concerns about their silly but dangerous programme. I hope you will be inspired to write to them too, remembering that we, the public, can occasionally wield our power for good.

The second is to thank all the media type folk I know who have genuine intentions to put something informative, helpful, respectful and complex about eating disorders right smack into the eye of the public. Amongst those are: Cosmopolitan Magazine, BBC London, BBC 5 Live, Heart Radio and last but not least, Mr Body Confidence himself; Gok Wan and all who sail in him.

Thank you, without you the world would still be thinking that the only eating disorder is anorexia, it’s only suffered by teenage girls, the only treatment option is being sectioned and institutionalised and that all of this occurs because teenage girls want to be thin and sexy.

And that’s why even the name of the show was an epic fail. Those girls weren’t ‘Dying to be Thin’ – They were dying trying to deal with something deep in the recesses of their troubled minds, something that could only be expressed by denying themselves food. They were dying in the midst of an obsession with deprivation. They were dying because of something unique and personal to them – Because there are many different ways to have an eating disorder, but very rarely does it arise solely out of a desire to be ‘thin’.

Complaint Email to ITV1
To Whom it May Concern

I am writing to make a formal complaint regarding your programme 'Dying to be Thin', which was screened at 7.30pm on ITV1 on Thursday 5th January 2012.

As someone who works for a charity campaign dealing with body image issues and eating disorders, you can imagine how pleased I was that awareness of these topics was apparently being raised on a prime time slot. However, upon watching the programme, I found that not only did it perpetuate some potentially damaging myths surrounding eating disorders, but that it used information and research which is about 10 years out of date. I also found the overall tone of the programme to be lazy and sensationalist.

Having expressed my concerns on Twitter, I was immediately bombarded with similar opinions from present and former eating disorder sufferers, as well as professionals in the field. Here is a summary both my concerns, and those which were presented to be on Twitter:

1. Your programme focussed only on teenage girls, with no acknowledgement made of the fact that eating disorders can affect both genders and all ages.

2. Your programme mentioned 'bulimia' in the same sentence as 'anorexia' on several occasions e.g. "anorexia and bulimia are on the rise". Bulimia is an entirely separate and different illness from anorexia, and bulimia sufferers will exhibit vastly different symptoms, not least usually being within a technically 'normal' BMI range.

3. You also completely failed to mention EDNOS, or 'eating disorder not otherwise specified', which is the commonest diagnosis of eating disorder in the UK.

4. Your programme perpetuated the sensationalist tendencies of the media to focus on severely underweight case studies, for 'visual' purposes. Although you did not mention weight or BMI (well done), it was clear that the patients used were very underweight. This dangerously suggests a patient can only be anorexic if they are 5 stone or thereabouts. Anorexia is a mental illness, it is the state of the mind which characterises the condition, not of the body.

5. Your programme focussed on an anorexic who saw a 'fat person' when they looked in the mirror, the implication being that this is common amongst eating disorder sufferers. In fact, the latest research suggests that this is a myth - Most anorexics know how thin they are, they simply do not consider this to be thin enough. Your failure to mention the same could delay diagnosis in several cases.

6. Your programme disregarded recent research undertaken by the University of West England, as well as other organisations. The statistics you used, as well as the general tone of the programme, appeared to be very out of date.

7. Your programme did not give any advice for, or hope to, carers. At the end of the programme, you gave the B-eat helpline. B-eat are a support organisation primarily for sufferers. The millions of concerned parents who would have tuned in for further information were not given a support helpline to call (such as SEED) and would have been left with a very negative and depressing message.

8. Although your programme mentioned the Phoenix Centre in Cambridge, no information was given about alternative treatments and therapies and where to find information about them.

9. The experiment conducted on young girls - showing them pictures of themselves both larger and smaller than they are and then asking them to pick a favourite - is not only ridiculous (show me anyone who wouldn't be body confident when photographed in a tight fitting outfit, shown full size pictures of themselves and then asked questions about it) but has also been used several times before in programmes on Channel 4 and BBC3.

In conclusion, I, and many others, believe that ITV1 missed what could have been an exciting opportunity to raise genuine awareness, instead churning out a lazy programme which, if anything, has set back the course of eating disorder awareness-raising.

I look forward to your response.

Regards

Natasha Devon

New Year: New You?

2011-12-30T08:57:00.000-08:00

I detest Christmas parties in suburbia. I really do. But I have friends and family who live there and so to them I must go. I hate them primarily because I don’t feel I have anything of value to add to the prevailing themes of conversation. This isn’t because I have particularly low self-esteem, before you start conjecturing. It’s because at Christmas parties, everyone talks about their boyfriends, girlfriends, children/babies, plans to redecorate and cars they’re thinking of buying and my life is, fortuitously, bereft of all of these things. I have a bloody interesting career to chat about, but no one wants to talk about anything remotely work-related over a minced pie and mulled wine. They just want to ask me why I’m not married yet and if it's because I’m a secret lesbian.

To avoid a Mr Darcy-esque party demeanour (i.e. standing, mute and sulkishly in a corner somewhere casting aspersions on everyone’s dancing abilities), I’ve honed my ability to seek out the person in the room who looks like they might be interested in discussing body image. See, blog readers, really I’m always at work. Devoted to collecting the nation’s opinions - Some potentially different, new and interesting perspectives on the body confidence issues of the day.

Accept, of course, Christmas isn’t an ideal time to gain any sort of sensible perspective on the subject. From anyone. In winter, absolutely everyone loses their minds and confuses their poor, unsuspecting bodies. People who can usually be relied upon for unrelenting logic and profound sociological commentary become slaves to the whims of the season and start spouting clichéd old crap. December is a month to gorge – To indulge in all the forbidden delights we associate with celebration. Wine is quaffed, meals are four times their usual size and the tin of Quality Street is never far from our eager, grasping fingers.

But that’s ok, because we know our resultant expanding waistlines can be whipped back to their former svelte selves come January – The month of discipline, the month to eschew all pleasure, the month when we become an idealised version of our former, gluttonous selves.

For those of us who have a more long-standing, less Christmas-specific body bugbear, January presents the opportunity to reinvent ourselves. Yes, we decide, this will finally be the year we actually use our gym membership, or lose that pesky weight, or save up for a long-hankered-after cosmetic procedure, or learn how to wear pure white without spilling bolognaise sauce down ourselves. We begin to fantasise about a future in which we are a leaner, more poised, cooler, more attractive, more popular version of ourselves.

But it’s all bollocks. And deep down, you know it.

I could wax lyrical at this juncture about how the one thing we’ll never truly escape is ourselves. I could go a little spiritual on your asses. But instead I’ll resort to good old fashioned empiricism. I’ll look at the evidence.

Every single year, millions of people throughout the Western World resolve to mould their bodies into a different, more aesthetically pleasing form, convinced that this will guarantee them the fulfilment and happiness they so desperately crave. And yet, come September, the majority less resemble the idealised version of perfection they believe they should emulate and are considerably more depressed as a result.

We’re trapped on an endless binge/purge carousel, bombarded with conflicting messages telling us to indulge one moment and to deprive ourselves the next. On and on we run, on an endless treadmill to absolutely nowhere, slaves to the billion pound industries that depend on our greed and our consequent guilt.

Well, I’m getting off. I’m tired of running. It’s exhausting, futile and bloody irritating. There are enough tangible and worthwhile things to hope for in this World, without being blinded by the neon lights of an entirely false and synthetic hope being rammed down my throat by the hands of the advertising industry. There are far more productive activities I could be engaged in than calculating the calories in a low fat fromage frais.

This New Year, I’ve pledged to change my attitude, not my body. I’ll resolve not to change a physical thing, and spend the time that saves me doing something I can really be proud of, and that might actually make me a little more happy.

At Body Gossip, we’re hoping you’ll do the same. We’re calling you to arms: This year, change your attitude, not your body. Tell us what you WON’T be changing by tweeting us at @_BodyGossip.

During the evenings of January 2nd and 3rd, I’ll be on Radio 5 Live and BBC Radio London respectively, telling that nation EXACTLY what I think about New Years’ Resolutions. For details on how, when and why to tune in, follow me on Twitter @BodyGossipTash.

Racism and the Beauty Debate

2011-12-04T15:22:00.000-08:00

Beyonce. Halle Berry. Leona Lewis. Barack Obama. What do all these people have in common? Answer: They are all mixed race. By which I mean that one of their parents can be broadly termed as ‘Caucasian’ and the other as ‘Black’. Because of course there are many ways to be mixed race and most of would discover that we are to a degree, if we took the trouble to trace our heritage.

Recently, I was in an East London all girls’ school. I asked any students who could name something they didn’t like about their bodies to put their hands up. One young woman raised her hand and said “I don’t like my skin, Miss”. The shock must have registered on my face. At an age where acne reigns, this girl had one of the most beautifully smooth, radiant skin types I’ve ever had the pleasure to witness first hand. “Errr, why?” I asked.

“Well” she said “you would probably look at me and think I’m mixed race”.( I confess I probably would have done.) “But I’m not” she continued “and I wouldn’t want people to think I am”.

However understanding and tolerant you believe you are as a teacher, there are certain statements which will inevitably get your heckles up. I have a complicated racial heritage and I have two younger brothers who are mixed race in the more literal sense of the word (same mother, different father, grew up together, the word ‘half’ doesn’t feature in our vocabulary). I took a deep breath and asked her why it should be so terrible to be confused with a mixed race person.

If I’d met this young lady on a social occasion, her statement would have induced a lengthy rant from me vis a vie her apparent intolerance of mixed race people. However, on this occasion, I’m so glad I took the time to probe further. Turns out she was bullied for being lighter skinned when she first started school (which is comprised mainly of black and Asian students) because of some ill-conceived notion that all mixed race girls are ‘loose’.

It’s relatively simple to figure out how this totally unfounded reputation came about. You very rarely see a dark skinned black woman held up in the mainstream media as being beautiful, and even if she is it’s with certain concessions (she will usually have poker straight hair, for example). As a result, lighter skinned and mixed race women, who happen to conform to our current beauty paradigms, have induced the kind of envy which only a well-placed rumour can quash. It’s the same reason all conventionally beautiful woman have constraints placed upon them by their peers, to some extent. It’s also the same reason why mixed race men are often automatically assessed as “gay” (oh, the stories my brothers could regale you with on this score. It’s ALMOST as if their insane good looks made other men jealous and feel the need to spread hearsay that would put women off and take them out of the competition).

There are two issues here, in my opinion. The first harkens back to, yes, I’m sorry folks, but that thing I’ve been banging on about since I founded Gossip School in 2008- The Spectrum of Beauty. If we saw a greater variety of races in the public eye, everyone could (rightly) feel beautiful, and no one would feel the need to sooth their jealousy by throwing racial slanders about their lighter skinned counterparts into the rumour mill. This really shouldn’t be difficult. I could name you a dozen breathtakingly beautiful dark skinned black women in my immediate circle of friends. Seriously, Vogue, call me – I’ll pass along their details.

The second issue might make me a little unpopular, but I feel strongly that someone needs to say it. Mixed race people need to embrace both sides of their heritage. They are not black. Neither are they white. The “first black woman to win an Oscar” (Halle Berry) was mixed race. The “first black President” is mixed race. The “first black female artist to cross into the mainstream charts” was mixed race (Etta James). We should allow mixed race people to be proud of who they are and the entirety of where they come from. In terms of the beauty debate, mixed race women should be allowed to take their place in the spectrum of beauty, alongside woman who have darker and indeed lighter skins.

Ethnic diversity is given lip service in the world of beauty and fashion as it is, without mixed race women being thrown into the same category as black women and the powers that be thinking “oh, that’s ok, we’ve ticked our racial equality box for this season”. All races, in their natural state, deserve a place in our notion of what beauty means.

Of course, by the year 3,000 we’ll all be mixed race, scientists predict, and this whole debate, thank goodness, will be utterly defunct. Until then, however uncomfortable it might be to address, we need to realise the detrimental affect our narrow ideals of beauty are having on society, and that in the beauty and fashion worlds, racism certainly hasn’t gone away.

Everybody's Free (to wear sunscreen)

2011-11-25T15:29:00.001-08:00

Vintage movie soundtrack devotees of yesteryear (I’m doing my best to work my way around the phrase ‘people who are a little bit old’) will remember the track which defined the summer of 1997 –Baz Lurhman’s ‘Everybody’s Free to Wear Sunscreen’.

For those still relentlessly sipping at the fontain of youth, I’ll elaborate – The track involves a marvellously malefluous, wise-sounding American type addresses the ‘ladies and gentlemen of the class of nine-y-n-dee seyveeen’ at a graduation ceremony. He implores them, most persuasively to wear sunscreen and then goes on to dispense a series of nuggets of advice, which have “no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience’. As you would expect, despite the lack of empirical evidence, the wisdom he imparts is more than a little amazeballs. (And this is all set against the background of Prince’s ‘When Dove’s Cry’ as sung by the soulful young Choirboy character from Romeo & Juliet – Which is just one reason why Lurhman is a bit of a genius).

Two lines stick in my mind, in particular. The first is:

“Do one thing every day that scares you”.

I’m fairly sure he doesn’t mean sticking your head out of a moving car window or setting fire to your own knickers. He is referring, I believe, to bravery – The kind which propels you to take an opportunity, or strike up a conversation, or trust your own instinct.

The second is:

“In years to come, you’ll look back on photos of yourself now and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how fabulous you really looked. You are NOT as fat as you think you are”.

This is a photo of me which was taken when I was at the height of my very short-lived straight-sized modelling career, which happened to coincide with the time that my eating disorder really got it claws into my too-weary-to-protest brain (around 2003):

My boyfriend of the time had insisted on taking the photograph in a fruitless attempt to demonstrate that I was being an utter dick (hence the expression on my face). I had, minutes previously refused to leave the house convinced I was fat, hideous and that everyone was looking at me, owing to aforementioned fat hideousness.

In the, to put it politely, confused place that was my headspace at that time, I was a troll. Utterly gruesome. I punished my body for my perception of its (fairly minimal, I now realise) flaws on a daily basis.

I look at that photo now and think that I can only dream of an equivocal sort of hotness. If only I had realised it at the time.

(p.s. There’s a moral to this story. But you’re clever, I’ll allow you to extrapolate it by yourself).

Plastic Surgery - Another Midnight Debate on Radio 5 Live

2011-11-03T19:03:00.000-07:00

So, in a not-at-all weird scenario, tonight I went head-to-head with Body Gossip celebrity ambassador Lizzie Cundy on Radio 5 Live, debating our perceived pros and cons of plastic surgery.

I began my radio appearance (and will begin this blog) with a disclaimer: I do not judge anyone who makes the decision to go under the knife. In my line of work, I’m probably more aware than anyone of the immense social pressure put on individuals to match up to an impossible-to-organically-achieve beauty aesthetic.

However, it’s also my view that all these protestations about ‘personal choice’ by the pro-surgery clan are buying into a myth: That there is any ‘choice’ involved whatsoever.

I will defend the rights of any person to look however they damn well choose. That’s however THEY chose. NOT how our insanely body-conscious culture TELLS them they should look.

Most people would uniformly and unreservedly agree that darker women feeling that they have to bleach their skin in order to emulate Caucasian standards of beauty is morally wrong. At least, one would hope they do. So what is the difference between telling someone that their race or ethnicity is not aesthetically acceptable and telling them that they’re not allowed to have the nose or the breasts nature bestowed them with? (I will concede here that there is a bit of a difference, but hope you will see the point I'm attempting to demonstrate)

Lizzie argued that plastic surgery can make you feel better about yourself. She cited friends who had been bullied for their appearance. I asked: Would it not be better to channel our time and energies into changing attitudes, so people aren’t bullied for their physical appearance in the first place?

Here is what I believe: Life is a gigantic whacking great learning curve. We’re here to grow, emotionally, intellectually spiritually. Part of that is learning self-acceptance. If we opt to have invasive medical procedures as a ‘quick fix’ for our perceived flaws, how are we learning? How are we accepting ourselves?

We have to look beyond the choice of the individual on this subject, too. I have sleepless nights worrying about the effect increasingly accessible cosmetic surgery is having on us as a society. There is more than one way to be beautiful, and more and more people are opting to gamble their health and bank balances, striving to fit a very narrow (and, let’s face it, boring) version of attractive (which, ironically, probably won’t even be en vogue in 20 years time).

Cosmetic surgery is being normalised. Pretty soon it’ll become an expectation. If I wanted to live in a world where having a facelift is as ordinary as wearing foundation I’d move to Hollywood. The vision of a country populated by identikit Barbie and Ken hybrids is hellish enough to rival any horror movie, in my view.

Look at the sex symbols of the 1970s. They all had dodgy teeth, physiques that didn’t belie an age spent in the gym and *whisper it* less than perfectly symmetrical faces. But, they were gorgeous, they were desired and, most crucially, they were UNIQUE.

True gorgeousness comes from working your own unique version of attractive. And that is what I teach as Gossip School. Obviously, I’m not here to tell anyone not to wear makeup, or experiment with hairstyles, or clothing. Hell, do anything that’s easily reversible, or you can wash off with soap and water. You only live once.

But no one should ever be made to apologise for looking like them and that, I fear, is exactly what the cosmetic surgery industry is encouraging us all to do.

Fat Talk Free Week

2011-10-17T05:44:00.000-07:00

My third year of University was marked by several life-changing events. It was the first time I had my heart broken. It was when my singing ability was noticed by visiting theatre directors (thus beginning my rather ill-advised later foray into the music industry, convinced that it was my destiny). It was also the only time in my life when I have ever been actively thin.

There’s a huge misconception when it comes to bulimia- People put it in the same bracket as anorexia, and assume that the physical symptoms, which include extreme thinness, will be the same.

Bulimia, in the classic sense of the word, doesn’t make you thin. There are certain bulimia sub-types that do, but they’re more closely related to anorexia than anything else. The body is a wise beast, and will hold onto as much food as it possibly can, when it knows it will later be deprived of it. Bulimics may think they’re being clever (I certainly did) by ensuring that they purge everything they have eaten, but the body will, according to Professor Janet Treasure (eating disorder expert) find ways to retain about 60% of what you have eaten.

The reason I became thin at this juncture in my life was because I didn’t have time to be bulimic for a few months – The pressure of my studies meant I was always on the move or in the library and I shrank to a size 8 – miniscule for my 6 foot frame. (The first thing my genuine friends said to me when I returned home from holidays was “my GOD are you alright you look AWFUL!” Harsh but fair.)

So, the time came for me to get my results. Formerly a straight A classic perfectionist/overachiever type during college, my eating disorder had eroded at my ability to study during my first two years of university, where I’d barely scraped passes. In my third year I’d still had enough sense of self to pull my proverbial socks up and give the whole academia thing some elbow grease, meaning I managed to pull off a respectable 2:1. Delighted, I dashed into the kitchen of my family home to break the news to my Mum and brothers.

A family friend had popped over for coffee, as I bounded into the room, waving my results aloft and squealing with barely contained glee this family friend said “Natasha! You must be so PROUD of yourself! You are STICK thin!!”.

The incident took place almost a decade ago, yet I can still remember the all-encompassing feeling of shock and the crushing disappointment. I remember distinctly how the message permeated my every fibre and from then on, for a very long time, I believed that it didn’t matter what you achieved in life, all anyone would ever notice about you would be the size of your thighs.

Of course, this was UTTER BOLLOCKS, as are most of the body beliefs we tell ourselves on a daily basis. And yet, for the next 6 years, I continued to misguidedly live my life by this false premise.

You might believe that a casual discussion about the circumference of your belly, or your diet and exercise routine is part of life. You might reason that it’s an aspect of how we communicate and bond. In fact, this is FAT TALK.

Fat talk is more damaging than we can ever know. It helps perpetuate all the evils of a society ridiculously obsessed with image. By engaging in fat talk, we become complicit in a process which most of us are diametrically opposed to.

Crucially, we don’t know who is privy to our fat talk. A vulnerable person, or a child, might absorb our flippant comment – They might live their lives by a false premise and it might do them a world of damage.

So, blog readers – I challenge you to this:

This week is Fat Talk Free Week. It's a global event being launched in the UK by the Succeed Foundation and culminating in an event with some of the UK's leading body image movers and shakers on Friday and Saturday.

For one week, we at Body Gossip want YOU to give up repeating one derogatory body comment you regularly say. It might be “I need to get to the gym, or I’ll get fat”, it might be telling a friend “look at you! You have lost so much weight!” or it might be “I wish I had his or her bottom”. (At Body Gossip Ruth’s behest, I hereby pledge to give up saying “television makes me look really jowly”).

Follow @BodyGossipSarah on Twitter to join the discussion and tell us what YOU will pledge to stop saying this week.

Educating Britain

2011-09-28T07:27:00.001-07:00

Educating Britain
Today, the Nation is debating the examination board’s proposal to give students from less economically privileged schools ‘extra credit’ for getting good grades. Essentially, if over-simplistically - this means that if you are from a less wealthy area, you might get an A where someone from a more economically privileged background might get a B.

It’s a well meaning gesture, meant to give some acknowledgement to students who have had to defy the example of their peers in order to excel academically. I can certainly see where they are coming from.

Michael Gove, however, has branded this ‘social engineering’ in a characteristically verging-on-fascist huffy-puffy style rant in today’s Daily Mail. I won’t bore you with the details thereof.

I’m in a very fortunate position, having taken the Body Gossip education programme to hundreds of schools, both private and state, throughout the UK. I’ve seen first hand that there are incredibly dedicated teachers and talented students in both sectors. That’s why I don’t agree with the exam board’s proposals, (but not for the reasons that Mr Gove wants me not to agree, I hasten to add):

The exam board’s suggestion is based on two inaccurate and potentially dangerous assumptions:

1. Private schools are automatically better than state schools. This simply isn’t the case. It depends entirely on how you define a ‘good school’. Is it facilities? The quality of the students’ lunch in the canteen? The newness of the furniture? Or is it in fact the quality of the teaching and the genuine desire of the staff to allow each student to reach their own personal best?

2. This proposal buys totally into the all-pervading myth that the most high-achieving people in life get good school grades and that by sending someone to university you are guaranteeing that person success.

Not everyone is academic and not everyone is cut out for university. This doesn’t mean they are stupid or destined for a life of poverty. Sir Ken Robinson, a legend in education circles and, if you are me (and I am) the World’s leading authority on all things school-related, says the issue is the system, not the people in it. He points out, quite rightly, that if you followed our education system through to its logical conclusion, you’d be a university lecturer. Essentially, we are training children from the age of 4 to be lecturers. But not everyone is destined, or indeed wants, to be a lecturer....When you look at it like that it seems vaugely absurd.

The entire system is antiquated and teachers and students alike are being constrained by it. It needs to be shaken up – And you can see how by comparison today’s proposed changes to exam grading seems like a tokenistic and futile gesture.

The issue, in my opinion, is that not enough respect is given to less academic, or vocational qualifications. We never acknowledge, as a society, that EVERYONE is brilliant at SOMETHING. We don’t give as much support people who fall outside the traditional, academic subjects. We never take into account that it takes a myriad of varying skill-sets to make the world go round.

You only have to hear some mothers in the school yard boasting to one another about how little Josh can recite the whole of the works of Shakespeare backwards whilst developing a theory to rival quantum whilst his peers are gluing glitter onto egg cartoons to realise what an insanely over-competitive society we live in. And it’s constantly bashing our feelings of self worth from an early age. Making us believe that if we are not the best, we are worth nothing at all.

This isn’t fluffy nonsense, despite what many people may think, because increasingly people are opting for the ‘worth nothing at all’ option. People speak of when schools were ruled with an iron fist and failure was ‘not an option’, reminiscing in a ‘glory days’ style manner, conveniently failing to take into account that these were ALSO the days where you were pretty much guaranteed a job, whatever your academic level, and an average salaried person could also afford a mortgage, car, 2.4 children etc.

Young people today are getting the message that if they’re not top of the class it’s the end of their life – And very rarely is this message actually coming from their teachers.

But really, this is all just speculation and personal opinion. I am no expert. I have, however, found that this proposal and subsequent debate has some bearing on my own findings, as someone who teaches self-esteem and body confidence classes in schools.

You see, if working with students who self-harm suffer from eating disorders and body dysmophia (all a result of crippling low feelings of self worth) has taught me anything, it is this: It is not merely economic background which can be an impediment to someone’s success in school.

What about all the students who have an emotionally unstable home life? Are being physically or emotionally abused? Whose parents are splitting up, or constantly arguing? Who are being bullied? Who have suffered a bereavement? Who have an eating disorder?

I am all for judging each pupil on their own individual circumstances. But I’m also not so naive as to believe that we have the time, money or resources to conduct a thorough analysis of the life of every student in the UK.

Having worked with thousands of teenagers from a variety of social backgrounds since I founded Gossip School in 2008, I can say with some certainty that emotional issues know no class. They affect teenagers from all walks of life.

The young people who are predisposed to do best in school are simply happy: Happy to be in school, happy generally, happy at the prospect of their future, happy that they are enough and they can succeed in whatever their chosen field happens to be. And that is something the examination board are not in a position to assess.

To get Gossip School into your school or college go to www.bodygossip.org/gossipschool

Anticipatory Blog: London Fashion Week Size 0 Debate: Snore Off

2011-09-19T07:09:00.001-07:00

If you’ve ever had to endure anything more frustrating than sitting on the top deck of a London bus (captained by an unusually unaggressive driver), whilst gridlocked on the roundabout next to Waterloo station, wedged next to a robust man who smells a bit (and insists, inexplicably, on sitting as though he has a python in his trousers), whilst girls in the seat behind you drone in endless ‘I am achingly cool’ monotone about ‘the modelling world’ without screaming/throwing things/attempting to fling yourself bodily through the bus window, then truly you are a better woman than me.

Yes, it is that time of year again, when all the excitement that heralds the autumn clothing season is celebrated, in what is known as London Fashion Week. Industry insiders will salivate with anticipation as the latest collections are unleashed to the public. Glossy mags will speak of nothing else for at least a fortnight. Londoners will be subjected to a surge of designer and model wannabes descending on our city like a plague of lofty, fragile, identically dressed* locusts. And you just know that someone, somewhere is going to re-ignite the size 0 debate.

*This year it is dirty platinum bobs underneath Charlie Chaplin-style bowler hats, gothic purple lipstick, leopard print ankle boots and a skirt that looks a bit like those worn by the dolls your Nan puts on top of toilet rolls, only made out of transparent material (with what appear to be cycling shorts underneath to protect one’s modesty). You heard it here first, people.

For body confidence campaigners, having to answer endless size-0 related questions is invariably what London fashion week signifies. Having now been at the helm of Body Gossip (along with Ruth ‘The Legend’ Rogers) since 2008 I grow weary of the entire thing, frankly.

It isn’t that I don’t think the size 0 debate is one worth having, I just wish that we could absorb what was extrapolated from last year’s debate and move it up to the next level.

One of the most common criticisms thrown at Body Gossip is that ‘body image is soooooooooooooo 2009’. It seems that anything revolving around body confidence is considered passé. Which is utterly daft when you consider the extent to which it continues to dominate people’s lives.

The reason people think body image is boring, or has been done to death, is that the same tired-old arguments are being churned out on an endlessly tedious conveyor belt of badly reported eating disorder ‘real life stories’, pictures of emaciated models, celeb gains-weight-loses-weight-gains weight-loses-weight (ad infinitum) press articles and programmes until we all want to scream ‘oh, will you just SOD OFF?’.

There are fresh opinions, brand spanking new research, compromises and solutions out there. I hear them every day. The fact that I find body image so endlessly fascinating isn’t because I am a brainless moron or have the memory of a hungover goldfish. It’s because there is a lot to say and to comprehend.

So let’s start saying and comprehending it.

For example – Here are a few thoughts I have had/heard about London Fashion week, in no particular order:

Straight-size models are super slender not always because they are starving themselves but because they are CHILDREN. When people discuss the detrimental effect of catwalk images, no one ever seems to take into account that most high fashion models are about 14 and haven’t had the chance to develop breasts/hips etc yet. The models I saw on the bus looked like 8 year olds, stretched. The idea that any fully grown woman would consider it in any way aspirational to squish themselves into an equivocal size is actually laughable.

Fashion is art. And the artistic ‘movement’ to which it would belong would be 'abstract'. Yes, I have grasped the rudiments of how designers-influence-the-catwalk-influence-celebs-influence-the-high-street (we've all seen Meryl Streep's magnificent rant on the stubject in 'The Devil Wears Prada'), but what we see during London fashion week shouldn’t have any direct bearing on what your average Josephine feels she should look like. Just like an abstract painting, it should be enjoyed for its aesthetic brilliance but not seen as a reflection of reality as we know it.

How about, rather than blame the fashion industry for the low self-esteem epidemic in the Western World, we worked on changing our collective mind-set? Imagine if we felt so great about ourselves that we could glance at Fashion Week’s happenings with moderate interest, perhaps even try a trend if we think it might suit us, but not feel any less worthy because most of us can never hope to emulate totally what we are seeing?

The girls on the bus, as irritating as their drone-some monotones were, were in fact right. There is a ‘modelling world’. There is a ‘fashion world’. It’s their world, but it doesn’t have to be ours.

Body Gossip is working to give a glimpse into the REAL world of bodies and empower the stories of a wide cross-section of people, as an antidote to all this nonsense. Ultimately, we want everyone to feel so marvellous about themselves that outside influence cannot penetrate their veneer of confident fabulousness. For, as Lorlett Hudson, business coach extrordinaire and formidable lady of brilliance once said “someone or something can only have as much power over you as you allow it to”.

Thought of the day.....

2011-08-19T04:04:00.000-07:00

There is more than one to be gorgeous. There is more than one way to be confident. There are hundreds of ways to be intelligent and even more ways to be brilliant.

But there's only one way to be YOU and only YOU know how to do it right.

Now go forth and be the best you can be.

A Thought on the Riots...

2011-08-09T07:58:00.000-07:00

Since 2008, I’ve worked with approximately 3,000 British teens between the ages of 14 and 18 in schools and colleges throughout the country, as Gossip School (the Body Gossip self-esteem programme).

From observing and speaking with them I understand the issues they face. I don’t envy the teenagers of today. They are invariably shown little respect, but a lot of respect is demanded of them. They are often from difficult family backgrounds. They feel let down and betrayed by various systems of government – the economy, education, employment etc. I’ve been staggered by how well even the reportedly most ‘difficult’ students respond to simply being asked their opinion.

Some young people are angry, others confused, most disillusioned. And it’s understandable.

………..But I’ve always maintained that young people get an unnecessarily bad rep from the press and public. I haven’t yet met a teen I couldn’t find something to like about. The vast majority have been bright, full of humour and have welcomed me into their school and lives.

So over the past 3 days, when thousands of people, mainly in the teenage age bracket, took to the streets of London, my home city, committing arson and assault, looting and vandalising huge areas of the Capital my immediate reaction was this:

“How could you? All those times I’ve defended you in front of wanky middle-class huffer puffers who wanted to tar all teens with the same brush! And then you go and prove them right! You’ve made me look a right knob!”

After further consideration, however, I came to the realisation that it was, of course, me who was being the wanky middle-class huffer puffer.

My initial observations remain true. The people committing mindless acts of criminality represent a tiny minority of all the young people out there. And whilst they might claim that their actions are a socialist protest against the country’s wealthiest and most privileged, this argument doesn’t stand up to scrutiny (Hackney and Clapham aren’t famed for housing the affluent).

So, my thought of the day is this : When all this scariness and unrest has come to a conclusion, please let’s not punish all teenagers for the actions of a few. Let’s not use these events as an excuse to perpetuate myths and stereotypes concerning our country’s youth.

In the meantime, my love goes out to all the people affected by the riots. Special mention to the shopkeepers of East London, who bravely defended their businesses and fought off rioters last night: Rock on.

And that is my two penneth.

EXPRESS-ing Myself

2011-08-08T02:49:00.000-07:00

So, as I write this, we’re suitably gutted at Body Gossip HQ.

I’ve been a journalist. I know the score. You meet these wonderful, 3 dimensional people and it’s your job to turn them into caricature-esque tabloid fodder.

Yet, even armed with this knowledge, and with significantly lowered expectations, I was shocked and disappointed by today’s article in the Daily Express. Claiming to give an ‘insight’ into how Body Gossip came about from the perspective of its co-Directors (i.e. Ruth and myself), what it in fact does is present us (wrongly) as two girls who suffered from eating disorders who run a campaign aimed at teenage girls.

Ruth and I are very proud of the fact that Body Gossip does not exclude anyone. Regardless of age, gender, race, culture, social background or sexual orientation, everyone has a body so everyone has a story and can contribute to the debate. The stories we receive offer perspectives on a wide range of topics, from adolescence, to ageing, to sexual relationships, to pregnancy, to illness and injury, even tattoos and piercings. Whilst, of course, we are happy to receive stories from past and present eating disorder sufferers and to present their voice into the mix, we are not specifically an eating disorder campaign.

Whilst I did suffer from bulimia, I am now fully recovered and do not think that my former eating disorder is the most interesting thing about Body Gossip (or, indeed, about me). Eating disorders are currently a ‘sexy’ topic in the media, but they have a duty to report on them in a balanced and responsible way. Rather than dwelling on my physical and emotional symptoms, it would have been far more inspiring to hear about what I have achieved, with Ruth of course, since my recovery.

Ruth, conversely, contrary to what the article states, has never suffered from an ED. She was careful to emphasise this several times during the interview. She once went on a strict diet because she thought she’d get more acting work. This, apparently, translates to a ‘debilitating eating disorder’ in newspaper speak, which is, frankly, an insult to anyone who has ever suffered from one. Ruth knows this and would never make claims to have had an ED.

A few more anomalies which need correction:

• The presentations I do in schools and colleges throughout the UK are aimed at teenagers between the ages of 14 and 18 and whilst, yes, I do share my story, it’s infinitely more about them – It is NOT in any way shape or form “sharing my story with children in workshops”.

• I’ve been involved with Body Gossip for 3 years, not 2.

• The point I made about Marylin Monroe is that in the 1950s plastic surgery wasn’t available to the public in the way it is now, so most people knew they couldn’t totally emulate a celebrity. The point was a lot more complex than the small part that was quoted, which makes me look like a moron.

• At no point in the interview did Ruth suggest that advertising, airbrushing and the media do not contribute to people's body insecurities. The quote printed was taken out of context - she was referring to a specific part of the campaign, aimed at tackling people's self perception, and not Body Gossip as a whole.

In fact, almost all of Ruth's 'story' was either entirely fabricated or exaggerated - She can set you straight on the truth of the matter and I am sure will take the opportunity to do so.

Most disappointingly, our two most exciting projects, the 5 new films we have in the pipeline and the book we are publishing in September, were not mentioned at all.

Ruth and myself work tirelessly to make Body Gossip one of the forerunning body image campaigns in the UK and the Express article does not do us, or our beloved campaign, justice.

New Developments in the Airbrushing Debate

2011-07-27T07:19:00.001-07:00

If her Twitter feed is anything to go by, today MP Jo Swinson has been dashing around madly like the proverbial headless chicken between various radio and television appearances, justifying her decision to ban two ridiculously airbrushed adverts.

The ads feature Julia Roberts (43) and Christy Turlington (42) looking like 12 year old cartoons. The photographs (if they can technically still be termed as such) were used to promote some sort of pseudo-scientific cosmetic guff which promised to emulate a similarly ‘youthful glow’. Which is a lie, obviously. Because real people aren’t animated.

More outrageous than the disturbing lack of truth used by the advertisers in this case, is the more general philosophy that attractiveness necessitates youthfulness. That, in fact, Julia Roberts and Christy Turlington, both utterly gorgeous as their real life, 3 dimensional selves, required any airbrushing to begin with.

The message being given to women throughout the World is, to paraphrase, this:

“Over 16? Then you are TOO OLD to be considered attractive by ANYONE. Look! Even one of the World’s highest paid film stars Julia Roberts has to be airbrushed in order for us to deign to look at her face.

Her fame, wealth and talent don’t make her successful. Oh no, it’s her lack of pores and ‘youthful glow’ which really set her ahead of the pack. Why don’t you try and turn back the clock too? You won’t look like this picture, but you should at least try to sort your self out YOU OLD TROUT”.

Today, James O’Brien of LBC fame suggested that the public are too shrewd, too aware of the issues at stake, just generally ‘too intelligent’ to be affected by airbrushing. He even went so far as to brand Jo’s campaign ‘patronising’ and claimed that ‘real people’ have no interest in banning unrealistic advertising.

Where were all the people who email me every day to talk about how advertising bashes their self-esteem? Where were all the body confidence campaigners? Where were all the thousands of people who have written their Body Gossip stories? Not listening to LBC, presumably.

To suggest that the effect of unrealistic beauty paradigms has anything whatsoever to do with intelligence is so reductive it would be laughable, were it not for the fact that so many LBC listeners appeared to be so flattered by the idea that their lack of interest in the subject gave them super human cleverness, they phoned-in to tell London all about it.

Pictures speak to us on a level which isn’t logical. They provoke an emotional reaction, deep in the recesses of our subconscious mind. You can tell yourself as much as you like that what you’re witnessing is the work of technology, but, somewhere buried within the confines of your brain there is a tiny person screeching “Waaaaaah! Why don’t I look like that?”. You could be Albert frickin’ Einstein and this would, I am afraid, still be the case.

James argued that images which bear no resemblance to the original subject are nothing new: The Mona Lisa, he reasoned, was probably exaggerated to look more attractive than she was in real life. Photographs of Marylin Monroe were carefully vetted so that she was only ever presented at her most aesthetically pleasing. Well, yes. But throughout history there has never been a time when the public have so much access to plastic surgery – In the 1950s the average person knew they could never look like Marylin, so they didn’t try.

And why shouldn’t we all be undergoing life-threatening cosmetic procedures, injecting poison into out foreheads, weaving other people's (or, more often horses’) hair onto our heads in our never-ending quest to approximate a photo of someone who doesn’t look like that in real life anyway?

………..Because it’s a waste of time. Imagine if you just looked like the best version of YOU. A lick of paint on the old fizzog, maybe. An outfit that flattered your frame (or even just reflected how you were feeling that day)……Imagine if this was all it took for you to feel fantastic about yourself. Imagine all the other things you’d get done.

And I rest my case.

Can you be Fat and Happy?

2011-07-25T08:24:00.001-07:00

Tonight, I shall be featuring on the Radio 5 Live Midnight debate, tackling this very question, on behalf of my campaign Body Gossip.

I’m fairly certain that, in the eyes of the dear old Beeb, I’m fighting the fat corner. As a ‘plus size model’, the expectation of the media is invariably that I’ll launch into any weight related debate enthusiastically denying any potential benefits to being thin and maintaining that curviness is the way forward.

I’m sorry to disappoint in this regard. I have never, ever in my lifetime been heard to utter the phrase “real woman”, in relation to myself or, indeed, anyone else. After all, last time I checked, slender women weren’t a figment of my imagination.

I’m a little bit chubby (and not afraid to say it). Not fat, but definitely not thin either. I’m fortunate enough to be an hourglass shape and a couple of excess pounds therefore flatter my frame. I’m under no illusions that by BMI standards (and what a load of bollocks that is, incidentally) I am overweight. But the pace of my hectic life and my propensity towards walking absolutely everywhere, dancing vigorously and often and….erm….other physically strenuous activities means that I’m in tip top condition.

This wasn’t always the case, as we know. I don’t wish to harp on incessantly about my eating disorder a) because it’s been firmly relegated to my past and b) because it’s boring and self-indulgent but, lest we forget, I have been considerably thinner and momentously more miserable.

Neither am I going to attempt to pretend that settling into my natural and healthy body shape required no effort whatsoever. The path to self-acceptance was paved with obstacles. But, eventually, I concluded that endless analysis of perceived flaws was a ginormic waste of my time. After all, there is Body Gossip to run and life to be lived. And, all things considered, I haven’t done too badly in the lottery of looks. Perhaps in an ideal world I’d have a slightly flatter stomach, slightly slimmer thighs and fuller, more lustrous locks (like in a shampoo advert….where the effect is created using hair extension….oh, wait), but I could look like Les Dawson in a bad wig so I’d rather count my numerous physical blessings instead.

Frankly, I applaud anyone who is content with their body in today’s madly over-critical social climate. The question, in reality, should be “Can you be happy at any size?”. Plastic surgery is readily available and socially acceptable. Gym memberships are practically mandatory. Billion dollar industries subsist entirely on our body dissatisfaction and desire to sculpt our physical selves to some imagined will.

And how do we define happiness in the first place? After months of the tiredness, lack of concentration, constant hunger pangs and feelings of misery/vague obsessiveness which invariably accompany a strict diet, we might claim to be ‘happy’ that we’ve dropped a dress size – but at what cost to our more general happiness?

The issue has made headlines because of the reported stories of Pauline Quirk and Body Gossip ambassador Natalie Cassidy, both of whom have lost weight recently and are claiming to be happier as a result.

I do not know Pauline. All I will say in regard to her is that I have lain awake at night imagining all her loose skin.

Natalie, however, has worked with Body Gossip since it’s inception in 2006. I have spent time with her at a size 10,a size 16 and at every size in between and I can honestly say it makes very little difference to the overall impression one has of her as a person. Natalie is ferociously bright, infectiously bubbly, immediately warm and likeable and extremely pretty. The existence or not of a stone here or there is of no consequence whatsoever to these attributes.

However, I’m prepared to concede that she may be happier. And that’s wonderful. For her. But why is this news? Why do we think that Natalie’s weight loss journey has any bearing on our own lives and bodies?

Everyone has a natural weight at which they feel and look ‘right’. It took me ages to work out that mine was somewhere between a size 14 and 16. Surely, that couldn’t be the case, I told myself, when every magazine, billboard, television programme, advertisement and, crucially, OTHER WOMAN I encountered was telling me I should strive for the elusive size 8?

Of course, size 8, healthy people do exist. My Body Gossip Co-Captain Ruth Rogers is one of them. She eats when she is hungry. She stops when she is full. She exercises, in moderation, every day. And she looks bloody gorgeous.

So, yep, you guessed it, I’m going to whop out that persistently used phrase ‘spectrum of beauty' AGAIN Make it your mantra, blog devotees.

Is it possible to be fat and happy? Yes, of course it is, if that is your natural body shape and you have accepted that to be the case. Is it possible to be thin and happy? Ditto.

One thing is for certain – Being healthy in body and mind is the most stress-free path to genuine happiness.

Tune in to Radio 5 Live tonight at Midnight to hear me talking about these issues, using my mouth.

Amy Winehouse - The Legacy

2011-07-24T07:20:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, the country was rocked by the sad news of Amy Winehouse’s death, aged just 27.

I should preface this blog by saying that I loved her. Even in her most obviously drug-addled of states in public appearances I found her witty and charming. Her music spawned an entirely new genre and a generation of copycats. And she somehow represented the spirit of North London in a way I can’t quite define and which had nothing to do with her addiction to narcotics.

Having said that, I’m finding the public reaction to her death concerning, for a number of reasons:

In the blue corner are people trying to attach some sort of spiritual significance to her passing by pointing out that Jimi Hendrix, Janice Joplin and Kurt Kobain also died aged 27.

A lot of people die aged 27 and the danger here is that, just like the others mentioned in that list, the death of Amy, rather than serving as a chilling reminder of the dangers of drug addiction, is somehow going to promote the idea that drugs are ‘cool’.

In the red corner we have the somewhat spurious moral outrage of a group of people who inexplicably think it’s inappropriate to mourn Amy’s death, because of the recent tragedies in Norway. I can’t quite fathom the logic of attempting to establish a connection between these two completely unrelated incidents. It is possible to be concerned about two things at once, for most humans. It’s not like one detracts from the other.

Apparently, according to some, Amy ‘chose’ to die. This completely misunderstands the nature of addiction. In a sense, our more general perception of Amy, as fuelled by the media, is to blame. Because every time we saw her falling out of a club at 3am we made a joke of it and assumed she was having a lovely time. We didn’t see someone who was desperately in need of intervention.

The attitudes of the red corner brigade shows a disturbing lack of compassion. And the blue corner brigade show a wilful misinterpretation of the facts.

Let’s remember Amy as a remarkable songstress and let her death be a reminder that even the young, rich, famous and talented are not invincible.

Antidepressants - My Two Penneth

2011-07-24T06:53:00.000-07:00

Disordered eating makes you depressed. This is an unfortunate fact.

The brain is a muscle just like any other and malnutrition has a detrimental effect on the chemical balance within it. Couple this with the relentless, nagging internal critic which is an eating disorder and it’s enough to make anyone plunge into a state of depression.

It’s chicken and egg, for many. (Incidentally, and completely unrelated-ly - I was watching an Attenborough documentary the other day and apparently scientist boffins have discovered that the egg, did, in fact, come first. It naturally evolved, from a stone or something (I got distracted at this point, so the scientific validity of stone part is highly questionable). Anyway. The point is, it’s not longer appropriate to use the phrase ‘chicken and egg’. Shouldn’t have done that. Sorry. Won’t do it again).

When I was bulimic, I genuinely couldn’t work out if I was depressed because I had an eating disorder, or if I had an eating disorder because I was depressed. This was because, at the time, I didn’t understand the true nature of depression. Yes, in retrospect, the binge-purge cycle was a poignant symbolic exercise - a way for me to deal with difficult emotions. But there’s a huge difference between feeling sad and being medically depressed.

Depression isn’t a direct response to an event – In fact, often depressed people have to try and make the landscape of their life fit their feelings. We live in a society where it’s not really acceptable to admit that you’re desperately blue for no real reason at all, so we pick an incident from our past at random, and blame that for how we’re feeling.

The act of making myself sick, many times a day, every day, for several years, rendered me in a constant state of depression. Of that I am in little doubt. But depression wasn’t the causal factor and what I really needed to do was to conquer my eating disorder.

So, when my doctor offered me anti-depressants before my recovery back in 2006, they had exactly the effect you might expect – None whatsoever.

GPs have an average of 6 minutes per patient. Which is fine if you have a broken leg. For mental health issues, however, it’s woefully inadequate. It’s not fair to place the blame at the door of the nation’s doctors. They have deadlines to meet and boxes to tick and are constrained by the structure and red tape and general bureaucracy of the NHS.

However, it’s given rise to the dangerous temptation for doctors to throw antidepressants at any problem. Patients are being prescribed antidepressants for anything from hot flushes to insomnia. It’s regarded as a ‘quick fix’. Well, ‘quick’ it may be, but it doesn’t appear to be ‘fixing’ anything.

Here are a few facts about antidepressants:

• They only work in 30% of cases.

• They are not designed for long-term use but have also been shown not to have a long-term effect (i.e. when you stop taking them you’ll be just as depressed as you were before).

• They have been shown to increase the chances of suicide. Yes, that’s right. Suicidal people are being given drugs which increase the chance of them killing themselves.

That’s why I was delighted to be approached by a journalist who asked me about my experiences of having taken antidepressants for an article she was writing. I told her in no uncertain terms – What I needed was active intervention and some form of intensive mind-based therapy. What I got was 2 weeks off work, a prescription for antidepressants and an 18 month wait for (what transpired to be) a laughably inept counsellor.

I was then contacted again and told that the journalist had chosen to print a story from someone who was in favour of antidepressants, but not mine. Why? We can only conjecture. But this blog is my antidote to that little piece of injustice.

Eating disorders are, by their very nature, shrouded in secrecy. The culture of prescribing antidepressants is only serving to further silence sufferers and to sweep their issues under the proverbial carpet.

What Is Beauty?

2011-07-11T09:42:00.001-07:00

I’ve subscribed to Cosmopolitan since I was 16. Throughout the years, we’ve evolved together, nurturing a similar ‘you go, girl’ style mentality when it comes to love, careers, sex and fashion. Cosmo broadly reflects my personality. I was never cool enough for Vogue, or vacuous enough for [*insert your generic monthly glossy here*], or quite sensible and brooding enough for Psychologies. But I am fun-loving, and vivacious and, to quote my Body Gossip co-Captain Ruth ‘formidable’.

Over the years, Cosmo has provided me with valuable life advice. Probably the choicest nugget of wisdom was “remember your eyebrows are sisters, not twins” (which saved me from the misery and shame of plucking my brows into obscurity trying to match them exactly). I also distinctly remember inviting a red faced and flustered male university lecturer I quite fancied to stroke my fake fur bolero (not a euphemism), which I’d worn to class aged 18 after Cosmo instructed me that men are suckers for tactile fabrics.

The article which will always stay with me, though, was one which I read aged 21. It said that women can always be categorized in one of three ways – pretty, sexy and beautiful.

I immediately allied myself in the sexy camp. With my Amazonian frame, red hair, ridiculous bosom and mixed race heritage, I’ve never been quite conventional, dainty and symmetrical enough to be ‘pretty’ and ‘beautiful’ I’d always assumed was something to be reserved for the Kate Mosses of this World. I therefore reasoned that I must be sexy by default.

Recently, though, I thought about this in more depth. Pretty is easy enough to identify (Gwenyth Paltrow, Thandie Newton, Katherine Heigl). Sexy is also glaringly obvious (Angelina Jolie, Katy Perry, Beyonce). Yet all of the women I’ve just named are also indisputably beautiful. Well, I say indisputably, if the old adage ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ is to be believed, then even that’s not a foregone conclusion.

This led me to further musing about the nature of beauty and how very complex it is. Paradigms of beauty are constantly changing, hence the journey from Marylin Monroe to Size 0. Yet the fact that Marylin Monroe still remains an icon of eternal beauty proves that some beauty paradigms are timeless. Then there’s the veritable myriad which is inner beauty. And I don’t mean this in some kitsch, new age philosophy style way either. When someone has inner beauty you can literally see it in their face. They might not be conventionally attractive but they just look lovely in a way that’s impossible to define and yet totally apparent to everyone that encounters them.

I started to think about my closest female friends:

Belma – 6 foot tall. Size 10-12. Annoyingly model-like physique. High cheekbones. Big Green eyes. Glossy hair she attributes to a love of raw foods (she genuinely loves raw food. It doesn’t make her gag or anything). Looks good in anything from skinny jeans to maxi dresses.

But here is the thing about Belma. She’s undoubtedly classically beautiful. But she’s most beautiful when she laughs. Real, teeth and gums bared, head-thrown-back, no control over her limb-muscles cackling.

Ruth (co-Captain of Body Gossip) – Slender, pale, elfin, cropped hair, funky. Sort of woman that can throw on a man’s shirt and pull it off with utter aplomb. Rarely seen in skirts, never seen in heels.

Now, here’s the thing about Ruth – She shouldn’t be attractive. Everything about the modern beauty paradigm (long hair, fake bosoms, tan, short skirt, sky high heels) tells us that she shouldn’t. But she bloody is. She’s beautiful. And not just because she’s a legend – It’s not even a personality thing. She just works it with her unique, funky self (and I’ve seen men reduced to quivering wrecks as a result thereof).

Karla (my Radio Wife) – Statuesque, almost regal. Black. Muscular without having to try. Amazing legs, epic arse. Unique style (once she wore black and white brogues with pop-socks, a corduroy knee length skirt and a velvet jacket. On me this would like idiotic. On her it looked magnificent).

Again, Karla’s definitely beautiful. She’s the sort of girl who has the confidence to wear odd earrings (one stud one dangly sometimes). She’s also got a marvellously expressive face (for someone with no wrinkles at all) – being able to convey derision, delight, contempt, boredom or joy with the single flick of an eyebrow or the merest of movements in her large, sparkling eyes.

So, here’s what I conclude. Some women are pretty. Some women are sexy. But (sorry Cosmo) they’re all beautiful, and they’re beautiful for the reasons they least expect.

Heroes and Villians

2011-06-12T08:14:00.000-07:00

Regular readers of my blog will know that I often rant extensively about advertising and what I perceive to be wilful attempts to bash the public’s self-esteem, in a bid to flog products. I’d been left rather with the impression that I was ‘on my own’ with this one - Generally, people acknowledged that advertising has a detrimental effect on people’s self-perception, but were unwilling to concede that there might be any kind of malign will behind the whole sorry process.

I’ve come to the conclusion that children’s films and, most specifically, Santa Claus the Movie, are in no small part responsible for this line of thinking. Why? I hear you cry! It’s a lovely wee film with elves and Dudley Moore and sparkly things and flying reindeer. Well, yes. But it also features a stereotypical fat cat villain in a big leather armchair, plotting on how he can bring further evil into the film for his own financial gain. And when we think of the World and all its nasties, we want someone specific to blame. It’s partially because we want to absolve ourselves of any responsibility for the state of affairs and partially because it’s just easier than trying to digest the actual complexity of the matter.

That’s how Cheryl Cole ends up being blamed for our desire to be thin. Logically we know it’s not her fault, but she’s an icon of everything we wish we could be and can never realistically attain, so we impose a conscious will onto her slender frame, make ourselves feel a bit better by deciding she’s a nasty cow, and go about our business.

In a similar way, there is no Advertising Exec sitting in a squishy leather throne, smoking a cigar and cackling maniacally to himself, while he thinks of all the people frantically scooping up beauty products in the vain hope they’ll soothe their constant feelings of inadequacy. Life is, unfortunately, not that simple.

And so we move into the realms of blaming a concept, an attitude, prevailing social standards, rather than some elusive Simon Cowell type figure we’ve never met. It’s difficult to get your head around and even harder to explain.

Which is why I was so delighted to be invited to a screening of Jean Kilbourne’s ‘Killing us Softly’ last Monday, as a representative for Body Gossip at the All Party Parliamentary Group (and then to a Q & A with the great lady herself, no less).If you’ve never heard of Jean Kilbourne, stop reading and Google her now. This instant. She’s a lady whose devoted her entire professional life to observing and commentating on the effect advertising has on society and, much like a conversation with your Mum about boys, you initially want to argue before deciding that she’s right about everything.

One phrase in particular stuck in my mind, if only because I’m now going to whip it out in any situation where someone suggests to me that people must start taking responsibility for themselves and stop blaming the advertising industry and media for all their woes.

The effect of advertising is cumulative and unconscious.

It’s brilliant. Cumulative because, of course, it would be daft to suggest that one advertising campaign could ever be blamed for our collective body confidence dilemmas. Unconscious because when we think about it, we know the messages we’re being given are wrong, but it doesn’t stop us, to some extent, buying into them anyway.

Killing us Softly grapples extensively with body image but the apex of the film changes tack slightly and makes an unique and valid point about violence towards women. In a sphere where women’s bodies are compartmentalised and scrutinized and where women are literally objectified (often they are transformed into the objects they are being used to advertise), we’re also promoting lack of respect towards them. “The first step towards violence is in dehumanising your subject” says Jean “it happens with racism…….and it happens with women”.

And so we get a glimpse into how far reaching and multifaceted the beauty debate really is. It permeates every area of our lives. Fat is indeed, as the legend that is Susie Orbach has been insisting since 1973, a feminist issue.

p.s.

2011-05-30T07:20:00.000-07:00

A short addendum to the last blog…..

Recently, I was extolling the virtues of the American television programme 'Mad Men' to my Mother. “It’s brilliant” I said “there’s this character in it called Joan whose at least a size 14 and sexy as hell”.

“What’s it about?” my Mum, not unreasonably, asked, after I’d exhausted the ‘Christina Hendrix is a goddess’ angle. “An ad agency in the 50s” I replied. “All they do is drink, smoke and shag. Like I said. Brilliant”.

I then commented on how weird it is, in these smoking ban times, to see people lighting up in the office. “Oh, I remember that” said Mum. “You used to be able to smoke EVERYWHERE. On trains, even on aeroplanes. You’d quite often go and see your GP and they’d be sitting there smoking”.

To which I collapsed into fits of giggles.

I hope, sincerely, when I am old and wrinkly (much older than my still annoyingly youthful Mother) to be able to say to some enraptured young thing (much younger than myself, who is old enough to have grown out of being told stories by my parents, even I they are smoking related): “You know, when I was young, models were only one size”.

“No way!” the wee young thing will reply, in shock and disbelief.

“Oh yes”. I will reply. “And we used to feel rubbish if we didn’t look that way and none of the high fashion clothes fitted normal people”.

And it will seem so far removed from what she knows, she will collapse into fits of giggles.......

Goodbye Size 0 - Hello Diversity?

2011-05-29T05:01:00.000-07:00

Whoever is responsible for perpetuating the idea that ‘clothes look good on skinny people’ has obviously never seen a size 0 model in a corset or a wrap dress.

The truth is, of course, that some clothes DO look better on the more slender amongst us. Some, however, require curves.

If I have to use the phrase ‘spectrum of beauty’ one more time on radio/television/at events/in conversations down the pub with my mates I will actually scream. I’m not sure why people seem incapable of understanding that THEIR idea of beautiful is not EVERYONE’S idea of beautiful and that there is more than one way to be gorgeous.

Kate Moss is beautiful. So is Dawn French. So is Queen Latifa. So is Lucy Lui. So is Adele. So is Paloma Faith. Equally. In different ways. It’s not a difficult concept, really.

Today, the Independent reported on an initiative being spearheaded by the amazing Caryn Franklin and Erin O’Connor, whereby fashion students will have to work on size 16/18 mannequins http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/fashion/news/goodbye-size-zero-hello-normality-2290578.html.

It’s based on the idea that a size 16 is the average size of a woman in this country, particularly as they get older (and middle aged women have more disposable income, so are therefore buying the clothes).

Bravo, All Walks – It’s a brilliant endeavour and will certainly provoke a few changes in the fashion industry. After all, clothes are designed to fit on people’s bodies, not the other way around (Iogically, I mean. No doubt certain fashion industry insiders may disagree with me).

I cannot help but hope though that this heralds a time when fashion students have a variety of mannequins, not only in different sizes but shapes too (pear shape, apple shape etc) and can pick and choose according to what would best suit their design?

Body Gossip and Gok Wan: Storming Parliament!

2011-05-16T09:23:00.001-07:00

Last week, Gok Wan stormed Parliament petitioning for one hour of body confidence lessons per year to be mandatory for all secondary school students.

Ruth and myself were lucky enough to be part of the group that accompanied Gok - We marched behind him into the inner bowels of the Parliament building, where we were faced with a group of the country's leading MPs and Gok delivered a, frankly, brilliant speech.

I'm not allowed to reveal any more of the particulars of that day, sadly, since highlights will be aired as part of Gok's forthcoming documentary, due out this summer. I will however say this: If you are going to march to Parliament, on camera, wear sensible shoes! My ridiculous (but fabulous) burnt orange patent platforms threatened to topple me into the Land of Perpetual Embarrassment and Constant Cringing on several occasions throughout the day.

What, I hear you screech, on Earth is the point of this blog if not to dish the dirt on Gok (or 'Lovely Gok' as he shall henceforth be known by everyone at Body Gossip) et al? Well, it's to tell you why the campaign is so crucial and why Body Gossip wholeheartedly supports it.

Body Confidence might not be considered as crucial to the education of our young people as English and Maths by some. During my the past 3 years, as I have travelled the country speaking with and teaching students, I am confident in my opinion that this view is not only completely wrong, but a downright dangerous misconception.

The misery which accompanies a lack of self esteem can permeate every area of a young person's life, rendering them incapable of achieving their potential, or from enjoying their existence. In today's aesthetic obsessed society, increasingly teenagers are sacrificing their potential at the alter of superficiality. They might be labouring under the illusion that thinness, buff-ness or conforming to a set beauty paradigm is the shortcut to popularity, wealth and success. Or they might not even be able to formulate the thought that precisely. A lot of teenagers don't know why they hate their bodies and they don't know why hating their bodies makes them hate themselves.

One hour a year is not enough time to solve every student's body image issues, but it will at least introduce the issue and start them thinking, perhaps talking and even seeking any help they might need.

Body Gossip's 'Gossip School' has helped hundreds of teenagers throughout the UK and this year we hoping to be invited to even more schools and colleges to tackle this thorny subject. Look out for us on 'Gok's Teens' and lobby your local MP to recognize how crucial something which has such a profound effect on the mental health of the country's young people really is.

For more information on Gossip School go to www.bodygossip.org/confidence.

The Numbers Game

2011-04-08T05:12:00.000-07:00

Unusually for an unapologetically right-brained person such as myself, recently I’ve been using numbers to fuel my ponderings on body image.

A recently published poll revealed that an overwhelming majority of women would give up a year of their lives in return for the ‘perfect’ body. A slightly pointless hypothetical conundrum, if you want my opinion, since most women must sacrifice at least that taking dangerous risks with diet and exercise, and probably a further decade indulging in generalised body anxiety (an enormous waste of life, even if you are still technically breathing).

The statistic was, no doubt, supposed to shock us but to most modern women it would have come as no surprise at all. It reminded me of my somewhat futile attempt to persuade militantly pro-Barbie TV Presenter Terri Dwyer to think outside the box on a BBC 5 Live Midnight debate. I asked her to provide an argument so compelling as to Barbie’s magnificence, it would cancel out a speculated 1% chance that it might give a child body insecurity. No such argument was forthcoming.

Last night, over drinks with a friend, I turned this into a game. “What would you still do if there was a 1% chance it would kill you?” I asked. “Eat chicken” he replied immediately (and not unreasonably, his love for chicken is almost indecent). “And what about if there was a 10% chance? What then?” I probed. There was a slight hesitation before he confirmed that, yes, he’d still eat chicken. (I suspect if I’d pushed him further I’d have discovered he’d be unable to resist a plate of spicy wings even if there was only a 10% chance he’d live).

My own 10% list reveals a not altogether astonishing set of priorities, with music, sex and cheese ranking highest (although not necessarily in that order. Actually……Yes. In that order). However, maintenance of my physique (which is minimal anyway. See list) didn’t rank at all. I must therefore conclude that I’d rather be ‘ugly’ and alive than beautiful and dead.

For anyone who is familiar with my history, that wasn’t always the case and for many men and women in Britain today, tragically, it continues not to be.

I am sure you can see where I am going with this – Anorexia has the highest mortality rate of any mental illness, with an estimated 60% of sufferers eluding survival. But there are many other things which carry the risk of death – Cosmetic surgery, extreme dieting, bulimia, smoking, sunbeds, I could continue – And yet are deemed to be worth that sacrifice.

I could (and will) argue that, in fact, we flirt with death on a frighteningly regular basis and yet do we ever stop and ask ourselves if the body, the tan, or the lifestyle we crave is worth the risk of not being around to enjoy them?

Supersize -v- Responsibility

2011-03-29T14:20:00.000-07:00

This evening, three women suffering from eating disorders described their conditions in an admirably articulate and empathetic manner on national television. What might have been a massive step forward in educating the British public about their hugely complex psychological illnesses was then spectacularly undone by a resident television ‘expert’ who attempted to ‘educate’ the three ladies on the nutritional merits of their respective diets.

Yes, blog devotees, Supersize-v-Superskinny is back, which inevitably means an increased degree of rant-age from yours truly.

Newsflash Channel 4: One does not starve oneself or stuff oneself to bursting and then purge by forcing oneself to be sick because one believes it to be a nutritionally sound way to conduct oneself. .

Picture the scene. A woman who has been suffering from anorexia nervosa for three years is sitting next to Supersize’s resident ‘expert’ in front of a visual approximation of her daily food intake. For breakfast, she consumes a black coffee, which is helpfully displayed in a transparent mug (in case we find ourselves unable to imagine what a black coffee might look like).

“Breakfast stands for break-fast” (our expert helpfully explains) “you cannot break an overnight fast using just black coffee”.

Our anorexic displays the expression one might expect- it conveys smugness at her ability to sustain herself on so little, incredulity that this is where her road to recovery has been deigned to begin with a distinct air of “yes, I know”.

I appreciate of course that the majority of the British public might require eating disorders to be stripped down to the bare and most easily comprehensible components in order to glean a basic understanding of them. However, perpetuating an idea that an ED can be cured by educating the subject about the deficiencies in their diet is just downright dangerous.

The eating disordered mind is not a logical place. It cannot be reasoned with and it doesn’t respond to the same persuasions as a healthy person’s might. In the mind of an anorexic or bulimic, damage to one’s health is the price one pays as a servant to one’s condition and, more crucially, one comes to believe that this condition will inevitably result in death.

Those who claim to be ‘experts’ in the field must first acknowledge that they are dealing with people for whom their illness is an all-consuming obsession and premature death is not only an inevitability, but positively welcomed as marking the end of the torment to which they have subjected themselves.

Eating disorder awareness is a delicate and controversial arena. Whilst television has jumped on the bandwagon of this hugely popular social topic, it must also acknowledge its duty to do so responsibility.

Until such time, expect many more rant-y rage fuelled blogs.

Life in Plastic

2011-03-22T06:35:00.000-07:00

If I had to design a symbol or an icon of everything I abhor about society and everything that concerns me about young people, it would look uncannily like Barbie.

Barbie is unnaturally slender with disproportionately large breasts (it is estimated that 1 in 100,000 women naturally has a figure that even remotely resembles hers). Her wardrobe largely consists of Disney-esque floor length ball-gowns and The Only Way is Essex-esque bottom-skimmingly short skirts (all accessorized with eye wateringly high stilettos). Her activities are limited to traditionally female orientated jobs (such as ‘ballet teacher’) and to maintaining her distinctly WAG-like lifestyle (complete with pink jeep, natch). Essentially, Barbie is Jordan in miniature form. Accept Barbie remains mercifully mute.

When Barbie was designed, 50 years ago (by a team of sex obsessed men if a soon-to-be released Matel-expose is to be believed), this might all perhaps have seemed like a bit of harmless (although still distinctly misogynistic under scrutiny) fun. (This might perhaps be because back in 1960 people had the awareness to enjoy Barbie ironically, although that's obviously just conjecture. I wasn't alive.). In today’s climate, however, Barbie provides a worrying commentary on a society in which children as young as 7 are suffering from eating disorders, 15 year old girls are expressing a desire for breast surgery and 70% of female primary school pupils want to be a glamour model.

It is of course unrealistic and irresponsible to blame Barbie entirely for this and there is no conclusive evidence that she even so much as fuels the fire of today’s aesthetic obsessed, quick fix culture. But one must concede that there is a possibility that she might.

Which is why I found it hard to entertain Terri Dwyer’s insistent (and somewhat repetitive) argument when we locked horns on BBC 5 Live last night, which went: “Oh COME ON, Natasha, it’s only a doll”.

Branding Barbie “only a doll” is tantamount to applying the same description to Chuckie. Whilst technically true, the statement collapses under examination. Barbie comes with a great deal of cultural and psychological baggage and, as such, has been the subject of consistent controversy. Some find her objectionable and insulting, whilst others idolise her to the point of moulding their own human bodies to match hers (yes I’m referring to you, Sarah Burge).

Which leads me to my point. Matel are a commercial organisation and there’s no reason why they should have to relinquish the no doubt astronomical profits Barbie provides them with. Not even the most idealistic person would suggest that. But perhaps they could TRY making Barbie more realistically proportioned, they could TRY giving her a less stereotypical lifestyle and an alternative wardrobe……and they could see what happens (they can certainly afford to conduct the experiment). And by try, I mean REALLY try (i.e. not make her waist 3mm bigger and introduce a pair of 'sneakers' into the Barbie footwear collection). It might be that Terri Dwyer is right and that this would have no effect on young women’s self-esteem whatsoever. But it might. And isn’t it Matel’s duty to try?

I’d also, incidentally, suggest that Matel cease with the whole ‘giving Barbie professions’ thing. Whilst I applaud the fact that this was an attempt to ‘empower’ Barbie, what Matel have in fact done is appointed themselves the responsibility of accurately representing a cross section of all the potential jobs out there for today's young women. Of nurturing girls’ dreams whilst encouraging them to be realistic and of inspiring them towards a successful future. The wonderful thing about children is their magnificent propensity for imagination. When Barbie didn’t have a job, I doubt very much that this hindered those that played with her from imagining her in one anyway. A doll which hasn’t been consigned to a specific profession can be absolutely anything to a 3 year old, from Astronaut to Zoo Keeper. He or she can explore and project upon an unlabelled Barbie their own dreams and aspirations. Barbie should not be harnessing and restricting children’s fantasies and potential.

........After all, she is just a doll.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-12820178 - Hear my rants to this effect on the 'best bits' of the BBC website by clicking this link.

Conversation Piece

2011-03-22T05:33:00.001-07:00

The ‘Handbook for all those Intent on Perpetuating Body Insecurity and other Evil Things’ (otherwise known as the ‘Daily Mail’) hit an all-time low, when it today dubbed David Bowie ‘overweight’.

Here is a recent picture of David Bowie:

On what planet could this man be described as even remotely ‘overweight’? The ‘Planet of Lazy, Derivative and Sensationalist Journalism’ perhaps? Whatever it might be called, it’s the same planet where, apparently, it is considered acceptable to utter the words “politically correct mixed race marriage”.

Yes, that’s right, of all Bowie’s antics and adventures over the years, apparently it’s the seemingly blissful 20 year union with his impossibly beautiful wife Iman which Daily Mail reading huffer-puffers are most likely to believe is a publicity stunt.

Ironically, the article also focussed extensively on Bowie’s brief obsession with the Third Reich, and yet proved itself to be far more Nazi than David could ever have possibly been, even at his most illogical and cocaine-addled.

As a self-confessed Bowie worshipper (no, really, on my Census I wrote ‘Church of Bowie’) his forays into drug addiction, interest in the occult and sexual misdemeanours are mildly interesting but largely irrelevant. His resulting body of work; artistic genius spanning four decades, seminal, genre-creating, diverse and intelligent, speaks for itself.

I suggest The Daily Mail refrains from reporting on issues it is incapable of understanding and gets back to recycling tedious gossip about *insert cookie cutter female pop singer of your choice here* getting out of a taxi with no knickers on.

How to Live with Women

2011-03-06T10:58:00.001-08:00

Tomorrow at 9pm I will feature in BBC3's 'How to Live with Women'.

The four part show focusses on one couple each week, whose relationship is in jepardy because of the male partner's attitude towards women. Invariably there is some degree of chauvinism or an unwillingness to partake in what are perceived to be 'women's chores' around the house.

This week's subject, Terry, displays both of these qualities, as well as an inherent and unshakable belief that he is 'lush' and therefore his fiance, Tanya, should think herself lucky to have him. He is sent to live with three female mentors over the course of a fortnight, who are tasked with helping him see the error of his ways.

As a representative for Body Gossip, it's my job to make Terry see that true confidence doesn't actually consist of the constant desire to tell people how 'lush' you are all the time. Also, in my capacity as a journalist, I have to use my investigative skills to get to the bottom of what is actually a lack of self esteem, thinly masked in arrogance.

But will I succeed? Well, you will have to tune in tomorrow (March 7th) to find out. The show will also abe repeated later on in the evening on BBC3 and be available on I-player for one week after the original showing.

Mmmm Bop. Fashion.

2011-02-16T05:45:00.000-08:00

(*I should begin by saying that throughout this blog I am referring to high fashion modelling. I fully support the work of campaigns like All Walks, who want to encourage more diversity in the ages, races and body shapes we are used to seeing in modelling more generally.)

Fashion is notoriously elitist. This we know and accept this, and arguably it's part of its appeal.

It may surprise some people to learn that I am the product of a veritable fashion dynasty. It’s in my genes, quite simply (or jeans, if you like). My mother is a former catwalk model who met my father because he was one of the few heterosexual fashion buyers operating in the West End at the time. My now deceased legend of a Great Uncle was a Master Tailor for Jaegar and my Aunt is a big-effing-deal at Frank Usher.(I was, as you can imagine, the very best dressed baby you could have ever wished to encounter.)

You might assume then that I, dazzled by frequent reminiscing about the glamorous World of couture and celebrity, became enchanted by the idea of becoming a model myself, hence my foray into this industry in my early 20s. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. I was scouted literally by accident, when I walked into the wrong casting at what I had thought was a singing audition. My Mum, who was always attracted to and disenchanted by fashion in equal measure, regularly drummed into me the notion that modelling was something you did when you were too stupid to do anything else.

Whilst I’m not even sure that she truly believes this (modelling does require some unique skills and credentials), I was never under any illusion that fashion modelling was anything else than JUST ANOTHER JOB. Some people are cut out for it, but, just like any other job, they are in a minority.

Why did I feel the need to give you this glimpse into my family history? Well, it all arises from a conversation I had with a fashion industry insider over the weekend, who seemed to believe that my ethics as a body confidence campaigner and hers as a lover of fashion and all who sail in it, were unable to comfortably co-exist.

She seemed stunned when I was able to list some designers I admire and reveal some passion for couture as an art-form. She paused, mid-breath through what was clearly a well-rehearsed lecture extolling the virtues of heroin chic to look at me with a new-found respect (or at least that is what I interpreted it to be). I suspect that her expectation was that I would blame the fashion industry for poisoning our perceptions of beauty and for being the root of all low self esteem.

But I don’t. The problem is not the fashion industry. The issue is the perception of it as something which is not only aspirational above all other potential professions but also attainable by Every Person.

You wouldn’t harbour a lifelong ambition to be an Accountant if you were rubbish at maths. Similarly, if you are naturally short, curvaceous or over 25 years of age you aren’t designed for the traditional catwalk. This doesn’t make you any less of a worthy person. It just means you have a slightly different skillset to Naomi Campbell.

Last week, we were shocked by the story of 20 year old Claudia Aderotimi, who died after receiving the illegal buttock implants she believed would propel her into a life of hip-hop stardom. I’d apply the same logic here. Whilst the beauty industry insider I interviewed on my Colourful Radio show last week argued that it was Claudia’s right to pursue her dream by whatever means possible, I’d maintain that she should find another profession to excel in (one with less emphasis on the gluteous muscles perhaps) and not think anything less of herself for it. We can (mostly) agree that eating disorders are a terrible thing – As is anything which arises out of a desire to fit a certain aesthetic and carries the risk of death.

So, next time you are pouring over the fashion pages of your favourite glossy, see the models for what they are – human coat hangers physically designed to showcase the work of designers who are creating a piece of art not destined to flatter a normal, healthy human body. Enjoy it like you would a surrealist’s painting, but don’t make it part of your reality.

My Newest Outrage: The Statue of Liberty is on a Diet

2011-02-03T08:36:00.000-08:00

As a dedicated Body Confidence Campaigner for almost three (count ‘em!) years now, few things shock me. I may be saddened, disheartened, surprised or disappointed, but gone are the days when I am incandescent with burning hot rage on an almost daily basis. This is good news for my blood pressure. It’s difficult to live life with that degree of anger circulating in your system and harbouring a constant suspicion that the World is unjust. That doesn’t, of course, signify that I am any less devoted to stamping out the causes of body insecurity and narrow beauty ideals, it’s simply an indication that I’m less likely to rant at high volumes for hours on end to anyone who will listen (which is a blessed relief to all my friends and family, who were collectively getting an awfully big earache circa December 2009).

However, my current calm equilibrium was shattered three days ago as I casually flipped through one of the weekly celeb glossies (ostensibly for “research”, I do PR you know darling, but actually just because, well, you know). An advertisement for a slimming aid showed the Statue of Liberty with a tape measure around her newly svelte waist. I would estimate the oh-so-familiar proportions of one of the World’s most iconic landmarks had been reduced by a total of one third.

The implications of this moronic and highly offensive advert are myriad. It suggests that paradigms of beauty are now so fixedly and utterly changed that we must go back throughout history and “correct” those who do not fit today’s super slender standards. What’s next? Will we shave a few inches from Monroe’s ample hips? Shall we decide that the Mona Lisa has too much puppy fat in her enigmatic face? Will Reuben’s paintings be eliminated from art history altogether?

Yet far more offensive than that is the idea that Libertas, the Roman Goddess of Freedom, an icon of hope in a new and exciting World should be at all concerned with the circumference of her waist. Even a mythical emblem carved in stone, it seems, cannot escape the scathing criticism of a body image obsessed civilisation.

Susie Orbach once conjectured that (to paraphrase) any woman who takes up too much space in a man’s world, who stands too rigid and proud and refuses to apologise for herself, will be put in her place by overt reference to her physical shortcomings. It seems that even the Statue of Liberty is, sadly, no exception.

A Very Short Blog about a Very Tedious Debacle

2011-01-11T09:55:00.000-08:00

Well, let's all feign surprise shall we for, after offending just about every sensible person in the Western World, Kenneth Tong has today made probably the least shocking revelation of the year so far - His entire size 0 promoting Twitter campaign was, apparently a "hoax".

Throughout the entire debacle, myself and other Eating Disorder and Body Confidence activists were urging the World at large to stop getting their collective knickers into such a ginomic twist. However, something about Kenneth Tong's suggestion that one could "manage" anorexia sparked such universal outrage and indignation that the public succeeded in giving the little nincompoop exactly what he wanted, i.e. fame.

I hope we are all happy with ourselves.

Is Fake the New Chic?

2011-01-10T06:05:00.001-08:00

Last weekend, I was invited to a "Super Hero" themed party. Never one to shy away from the opportunity to be the centre of attention, I immediately set about scouring e-bay for a costume that would transform me into my childhood hero, She-Ra (see pic).

In retrospect, my She-Ra obsession has become a template for my self perception in later years. She-Ra is from Amazonia, a land in which glamorous warrior women kicked-ass in an unapologetically feminine fashion. Strength and the hourglass were unanimous and their biceps were almost as large as their bosoms. "When I grow up" I said to myself "I shall exude aggressive and abundant womanliness and I shall smite anyone who attempts to make apologies for that. Hear me roar". (Or my child alterego equivalent, which was more likely "oooh, I love her a bit").

So, decked out in a beautiful whale boned pure white corset (purchased at ridiculously good value from Camden Market), a blonde wig and a plethora of white and gold accessories, I hit the town (accompanied by my sidekick Dangermouse aka BGF Jake).

As I did a passable impression of an unconcerned and casual type person on the escalator at Leicester Square Station, I began to realise that there were two things drawing particular attention. I expected people to stare - It's not exactly usual to see She-Ra on your average commute - But the corset had elevated my already frankly gigantic breasts by about 4 inches (I later used them as a chin rest in a sleepy drunken stupor). The corset was also a 26 inch waisted affair, meaning that, whilst my head was She-Ra, my body was more in the Jessica Rabbit style territory (I also couldn't breathe, I have a new found respect for Victorian women).

The club was filled with the sort of girls who could have found full time work as extras in "The Only Way is Essex". Thoroughly exuberant and rather charming, in their own distinct way, they were engaged in a silent but vigorous competition to see who could model the least fabric whilst technically being "dressed". Acres of tanned flesh, whitened teeth and surgical enhanced breasts bore down on me, as they all demanded to have their photos taken with me. All very fun, and handy practice should I ever find myself a fully fledged celebrity, but I was slightly bemused. Up until that point all I had heard was "oh my god! Oh my God" repeated ad infinitum in high pitched squeals. They were, surely, too young to remember She-Ra, so why the fascination? I channelled my former model self, smiled for the cameras and didn't question it. Their enthusiasm was infectious, and being draped in hot young totty made me the envy of every bloke in the room.

Later, in the loo, I had my answer. "Can I feel them?" one of the Hot Young Things enquired. Without waiting for a response herself and her tribe (she was clearly the Leader) bore down upon me and began an investigation of my 34Hs. "Who did them?" they demanded "how much were they?". "Erm, I hate to break this to you, ladies.....", I responded, "....but the rest of me is sucked in, the boobs haven't been pumped out".

"Oh my God they are AMAZING! They feel AND look fake" said The Leader. She seemed delighted with herself, as if she had just bestowed upon me the most prestigious of compliments. Which left me wondering - When did this baffling reversal of the collective mindset occur? When did "your real breasts looks fake" qualify as a compliment? I remember when "your fake breasts look real" was the observation everyone was chasing.

Worryingly, it seems that unnatural (fake) beauty is the new gold standard. This is a trend I and, I'm informed, a lot of men, would like to see reversed. It's a shame that the Hot Young Things were unable to see what I could - Girls brimming with warmth, friendliness, smiles, giggles and energy that was utterly captivating and had nothing to do with the inches of makeup they were also sporting. That was what made them attractive and it's a quality they can retain throughout their lives, without the assistance of botox.

30-Something

2011-01-05T16:10:00.000-08:00

2011 is upon us, oh so suddenly and unapologetically. 2011 happens to be the year in which I shall “celebrate” (if that is the right word) my (whisper it)……….30th birthday.

30 isn’t old. 30 is the new 20. Which should deliver some vestige of comfort. However, 30 is only the new 20 because of the unstoppable surge in the fad of botoxing. 25 year old women are inexplicably submitting themselves to having poison injected into their faces by non-medical professionals in the quest for youth. It’s become so normalised that I, Body Confidence Campaigner Natasha Devon, looked in the mirror recently and convinced myself that my “result of philosophical brooding and quite cute” frown lines were Gordon Ramsey-esque and required surgical intervention (don’t worry, I saw sense).

So, everyone looks 10 years younger than they are and before we know it we’ll be painting our faces to look like foetuses because there simply won’t be any younger to look. Gross, yet, not outside the realms of possibility.

30 is a strange age. I’m no longer competing with (nor have any desire to) the self conscious, constantly-preening, shiny skinned early twenty somethings, giraffe-thigh-ed and luminous in some ludicrously fashion-conscious creation. I have been there, I have done that. I have been the size 8 early 20-something, hair-extension sporting, fake tanned knobhead who nattered loudly into her mobile phone on public transport about my general fabulousness and invincibility. It was utterly exhausting and spiritually empty.

Neither are 30-somethings old enough to qualify as MILFs. Oh, how I envy the MILFs. Free from the body-obsessions and crippling low self esteem that blighted their yesteryears, they can flaunt their unique older-woman sexuality with wanton abandon, exuding experience, elegance and raw appeal. But I’m not there yet. I am cast adrift in a no-man’s land of uncertainty.

As I hurtle into my third decade I am told I will enjoy added confidence and charisma, whilst still retaining my youthful demeanour. I am told this by 40, 50 and 60-something women who I positively ache to emulate, who exude self-assurance and gorgeousness from every pore. And yet still, I remain a sceptic.

Single 30-something women are a conundrum to the opposite sex and even more of a mystery to themselves, seemingly having to choose a path of insane bunny-boiler style marital yearning or staunch, cat addled, career obsessed spinsterhood. (It aint a popular opinion, but then I've never shied away from controversy). And for the 30 something lady, the body confidence debate looms, more terrifying and omnipresent than ever.

Between youthful sex kitten and matriarchal sex goddess lies the purgatory of my forthcoming years. Yes, it’s morbid and yes, I should by rights be spouting some empowerment bollocks right now. But the truth is, I’ll be savouring my last 4 months of 20-something-dom before plunging into the unknown territory of my 30s. Stay tuned.

Christmas is Coming.....

2010-12-20T22:48:00.000-08:00

In the unlikely event that aliens do happen to be observing us in a non-interfering capacity, I bet they’re having a good giggle at us right now. “It’s that time of what they call a ‘year’ again”, they will say “when the entire of what they inexplicably call ‘the West’ (even though their planet is round) undertakes a collective binge and purge”. I don’t wish to trivialise the issue, but there’s no getting around the fact that in December and January, everyone essentially becomes bulimic.

Every television screen, newspaper, magazine, shop window and billboard in Britain currently sports some sort of tantalising gastronomic fare, gleaming invitingly, practically commanding us to consume it. Food and sex become inextricable and interchangeable at this time of year in the World of marketing. The advertising of food goes totally visceral. Guilt and pleasure intermingle in the message – “Go on! It’s Christmas!”. It’s vaguely embarrassing – I have to fight the urge to cover random children’s eyes as they pass a picture of a chocolate pudding.

Everywhere I look, at the moment, makes me dribble a bit in my mouth. I’m turning into Pavlov’s sodding dog.

With depressing inevitability, on the stroke of Midnight on January 1st, the message changes entirely. We are invited to repent our gluttony, to snap into discipline and self-flagellate at the torture alter otherwise known as the gym. We are reminded that there are only a few short months until Summer, when we will be forced by the presently absent sun to expose our naked flab to the critical eye of the public.

We spend anything between one week and one month (if the evidence of my friends is anything to go by) frantically huffing, puffing, sweating, aching, surviving on little but carrot sticks and willpower before declaring “I can submit myself to this regime no longer!” and diving into a bumper pack of cut-price tree decorations.

Well, I’m not having it any more. I will no longer be subject to such blatant manipulation. Because, blog readers, I have come to an important realisation:

Every year, on January 1st I prepare myself mentally for my birthday on April 28th with the promise that by then I will have thrown myself wholeheartedly into a balanced and healthy food and exercise regime which will see me into the forthcoming years (which is ridiculous, because I currently HAVE a balanced and healthy food and exercise regime, it’s just unformulated). I promise myself that my entire patterns of consumption and attitude to fitness will, this year, undergo a seismic change. By my birthday I am always, without exception, fatter than I was on January 1st. And so I say to myself “ok, well, never mind, the regime starts now, cos really this is my New Year, when you think about it” and about a fortnight later the entire thing is abandoned and forgotten.

Upon this abandonment and regime promise amnesia, I start to lose weight. By October, which is a time of year which holds no sentimentality or significance to me whatsoever I am always, without exception, thinner than I was on my birthday.

Although( if the aforementioned evidence is anything to base my opinion of myself on) I am a ridiculous specimen of a human being, I am quite certain I cannot be alone in this.

So, this Christmas, I shall eschew the pressure to pack as many calories as I possibly can into my body before the Great Purge of January begins. I’m sure that by the time my birthday rolls around I’ll be healthier and happier.

Merry Christmas.

An Interesting Bit of Research

2010-11-29T05:16:00.000-08:00

So, from a utterly pointless piece of research to a genuinely interesting one.

As we know, when it comes to paradigms of beauty, it’s usual for people to pass the buck. “Fashion shoots are forced to use size 0 models because designers make size 0 sample clothes” is a classic. The least watertight excuse, however, is the notion that thin sells. Advertisers/marketers claim they use unhealthily slender models because that is what the public want, that is what we respond to and that is what prompts us to part with our hard earned cash. We want, they claim, to quite literally buy into a fantasy World inhabited exclusively by a demographic of people who, in reality, represent less than 1% of the Global population’s natural and healthy body shape. A World in which, conveniently for them, a pair of shoes, a lipgloss, or even a kitchen utensil can offer us a gateway into the fantasy World we apparently crave – A slice of the low calorie pie.

Well, a new study recently undertaken in Australia has decisively proven this long-touted theory to be, for want of a more elegant expression, utter bollocks. Hurrah.

A huge cross section of subjects were shown adverts depicting a traditionally slender model and a plus size model showcasing identical products and were found to be just as likely to buy the item in either case. They were not off-put by the more realistic image.

So, that now means that the powers that be will now have to invent another excuse if they continue to refuse to showcase a variety of different body types in their marketing. May I suggest the following:

1. We will not use plus size models because we are lazy and wish to continue as we always have.

2. We will not use plus size models because we are actively terrified at the prospect of change.

3. We will not use plus size models for unspecified religious reasons we have been instructed not to speak about publically.

Or, my personal favourite:

4. We will not use plus size models because we are evil body facists and want any member of the public who weighs more than 7 stone to feel like crap.

More Daily Mail Related Blog Fodder

2010-11-29T04:58:00.000-08:00

We all have a friend who insists she is 3 sizes smaller than she is, when the most brief and perfunctory of visual assessments would prove her conclusively wrong. I blame lycra. Now it is possible to shoehorn yourself into clothes that are too small and, whilst camel toes, muffin tops and other unpleasant things may result, so will the continuance of her denial. My Mum never tires of telling me how, in the 70s “we all had flat stomachs because we had to hold them in because back then you didn’t have lycra and your clothes would dig into you if you didn’t ” (yes, I hold her responsible for the fact that in year 7 at school we were asked to write an essay on what we considered to be the greatest invention of all time and whilst other people chose sensible things, like the wheel, and penicillin and freezers I chose to wax lyrical about, yep, you guessed it, lycra. Well, I don’t imagine constantly sucking your stomach in can be much fun. Especially not if the facial expressions of a lot of models are anything to go by).

The ‘shocking’ statistic unleashed on us today by the Daily Mail online confirms that 1 in 4 overweight women is in denial over her fuller figure. Probably the least shocking piece of body-related research undertaken since the revelation that airbrushing has a detrimental effect on people’s self-esteem. Although the article did, naturally, prompt a lengthy procession of people with too much time on their hands and the collective IQ of a partially crushed digestive biscuit to launch a tirade of hatred against all the terrible, obese Britons who are sending this country to ruin, causing the global recession, stealing their hamsters etc. (My favourite comment? “Women kid themselves that men find fat girls attractive, sorry ladies, but we don’t want to make love to a bouncy castle!”. My response (internal, I’ve long since given up having futile cyber discussions with Daily Mail readers) “some men DO like making love to bouncy castles, it’s quite a specific fetish, I’ll grant but people are into all sorts of things. However, there is a significant and large community of men who absolutely LOVE having sex with fat women. There are forums and club nights dedicated to it. Oh, and hey, since we’re on the subject of speaking on behalf of our respective genders, may I point out that women do NOT want to make love to pathetic losers who vent their frustration at life by going online to pointlessly fat-bash for no apparent reason?”).

There is, naturally, a fine line between being content in one’s own skin and total self-delusion. I’m all for being happy no matter what your size or shape, as well you know, blog readers. However, inhabiting a dream-like state of inverse body-dysmophia has serious implications for the individual concerned and for her social circle.

Firstly, the individual is not happy with their actual body, merely the one they believe they have. In fact, perpetuating the idea that they are happy with their figure because they are a size 12, when in reality they are a size 16, is just as damaging as being distraught at the notion of being a size 16. Secondly, say this individual I have invented goes about telling people she is a size 12. The idea of what it is to be a size 12 is rendered even more meaningless than it was already (I’m now a size minus 1 in Marks and Spencers) and potentially damaging myths are allowed to fester in the collective mind-set. For, as we know, there is nothing wrong with being a size 16. Come on ladies, let’s come out of the curvy closet.

Anti Bullying Week UK

2010-11-16T07:03:00.000-08:00

This week is Anti Bullying Week in the UK. An excellent proposition, which few sane people would disagree with. However, what is more contentious is the notion of what ‘bullying’ actually constitutes.

Ask anyone over the age of 40, and they’ll tell you that general name calling, the odd isolated physical bashing and occasionally teacher imposed corporal punishment were not only an accepted part of their lives but also “character forming”. Similarly, ask anyone under the age of 40 whether they were ‘bullied’ at school and the answer is invariably ‘yes’, yet when probed it usually amounted to someone at school claiming they were gay, or commenting on the supposed untrendiness of their footwear. So where is the line between an individual’s sensitivity and a bullying perpetrator’s desire to inflict harm? What is bullying?

During my school days the following things occurred (in no particular order, as Dermot O’Leary would say): I was punched in the stomach for supposedly being a “lezzer”; I was sent a note saying that I was fat; a girl (whose name began with C) held me by the throat up against the lockers and told me if I ever spoke to her again she would ‘kill’ me; an incredibly racist snooty little cow (whose name began with L) chanted “your mother’s a n*gger lover” to me (in deference to my black step father) throughout the entire one hour and ten minutes of our lunch break. Also during those seven years: I got so frustrated with racist L and her ongoing taunts, I hit her over the head with a hairbrush; I grabbed C’s back pack as she was walking to assembly and told her to lay off or I’d punch her effing head in and I told another girl (whose name also began with L) that her clothes were “totally 1996” (in 1999).

Why am I recounting these trivial incidents? To prove a point. By modern standards I have both been bullied and, in fact, am a bully. Yet I would never lay claim to either of the above. Or in any way suggest that the eating disorder I suffered from for more than a decade was a result of any of these incidents. Am I being naive?

I wouldn’t wish to belittle anyone’s experience of bullying or the potentially devastating affect it can have on their lives. I fully support Bully UK and their ongoing endeavours to stamp out the presence of bullying

There is, however, one factor, something which affects all of our lives, which I can confidently claim bullies us all. I speak of the advertising industry and their insistence that one simply MUST fit a pre-decided and totally unattainable aesthetic in order to be happy. A message which is consistent, insistent and unyielding. In fact, surely this can only be described as consistent bullying inflicted on the British public. Imagine the billboards, the televisual messaging, certain glossy mags were a person. They’d be an incredibly clever sort of bully.

That’s why, once again, I’d urge anyone who reads this to go to www.bodygossip.org and learn how to take a stand in keeping with Anti Bullying Week.

The X Factor Issue

2010-10-25T00:30:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, I returned home from a hard-days’ networking (at Lorlett Hudson’s fabulous ‘One Hand Can’t Clap’ forum) and, rather misguidedly, it turned out, thought to myself “right, time to usher in the weekend with a bit of light entertainment/escapism in the form of X Factor”.

Two-and-a-bit hours later and I was incandescent with rage, somehow resisting the urge to throw my TV out the window, in a rock star type manner.

Apparently, we now live in a time where Zeppellin’s ‘Whole Lotta Love’ is a ‘guilty pleasure’ and it’s considered morally and socially acceptable for a contestant to perform it to millions accompanied by a karaoke style backing track, (with a bloke with a fake electric guitar miming to Jimmy Page’s solo). Is there nothing too sacred for Cowell’s empire to tarnish? Apparently not.

Naturally, I spent the next few hours listening to some more obscure tracks from Bowie’s back catalogue, which I was fairly certain X Factor wouldn’t take on, if only because, as one Twitterer aptly observed, the judges have “all the musical knowledge of a slightly stunned earwig”. Two large glasses of chardonnay and several Bowie tracks later, I was pleased to note I had achieved a positively Zen-like state of calmness.

Having established my emotional equilibrium, I got thinking about the Cher Lloyd issue.

Surprisingly, not one of the judges has yet thought to mention the blindingly obvious: i.e. her inability to sing. “I jooost looove watching yers” said Cheryl. Yes, but do we enjoy listening to her? X Factor is, we are reliably informed, after all a singing competition. That’s something it’s easy to forget, what with all the inexplicable fawning over Cher’s “stage presence”, dancing “skills” and ability to be “current”.

What message are we therefore giving the millions of young women who tune into this show every week? Simples:
1. It’s style that’s important, not substance.
2. Lack of talent is nothing when compared to the might of looking like Cheryl Cole and Amy Winehouse’s illegitimate lesbian love child.
3. Styling yourself like an urban Bratz doll is the quick way to get all the attention, adoration and wealth you crave.

By contrast, immensely talented vocalist Rebecca was told “I don’t like what you’re wearing”.

One day, I hope to be cool enough not to care about X Factor. However, the fact remains that, for now at least, it’s a hugely influential part of Cowell’s commercial empire and, as such, should acknowledge some sort of responsibility.

Some might argue, rather tediously, that being a “pop star” doesn’t necessitate top quality vocals, but is in fact about other things entirely. Whilst there is a smidgen of truth in this, that’s no reason to accept the state of affairs. Barry White and Stevie Wonder produced a lot of their own tracks. They composed the melodies, in addition to being able to knock out a lovely vocal. Cheryl Cole simply nicks her hooks off Kelis (the law dictates that I must state here: Allegedly).

Bring back the era of real rock and roll, sez I, where mad, attention seeking outfits and sex appeal were a bi-product of the music. Not only will it be huge step forward in the industry, it’ll contribute significantly and positively to the beauty debate.

The Stupidest Thing Anyone has Ever Said? Cast Your Votes.....

2010-10-21T05:43:00.000-07:00

Last night I indulged my latest addiction by settling down with a cuppa and watching ‘An Idiot Abroad’. Karl Pilkington, that dear dear round-headed Mancunian buffoon said ‘if you’re in a couple, and one of you is ugly and one of you is good-looking, it’s better to be the ugly one, because you get to look at something nice’.

At the time I thought this was the height of nonsensical (but highly amusing) bollocks.

That was until I happened to pick up my flatmate’s Closer Magazine and read:

“With an eating disorder you can get through it using therapy. But when you’re fat, you’re fat for life”.

Yep. Someone actually said that. In print. For all the World to collectively shake their heads in disbelief. Yet more evidence that the World is becoming increasingly bizarre and frightening.

This story was about an obese Mother (Ali Gilardoni) who had put her 8 year old daughter on a strict (and unhealthily restrictive) diet since the age of 2, whilst secretly gorging on junk food herself after putting her daughter to bed. Her justification was that she wanted to prevent her daughter from suffering the same fate of fatness, which she associated with a life sentence of bullying and misery.

Whilst, on the one hand, it is immensely refreshing to see someone acknowledge that it is possible to completely conquer an eating disorder, I’m not entirely sure it should have been stated with such flippancy, and in response to a GP’s advice that her daughter was likely to develop anorexia. The idea that years of anguish, starvation, hospitalisation and lack of energy for life’s pursuits is in any way preferable to being fat is so utterly ridiculous it doesn’t warrant comment.

What does fascinate me, however, is this notion of ‘being fat for life’.

Now, there is absolutely nothing wrong with being fat and happy. Just as there is nothing wrong with being slender and happy. But, if one is unhappy, one can change one’s diet and exercise habits and, if necessary, one’s mind-set in order to address it. This, surely, is logic. However, this delusional woman seems to live in a World where, once maximum weight has been reached, it can never be reversed, but must always be sustained. Imagine a World in which that was a universal truth…… Imagine what Oprah might look like.

Anyway, I digress. The Mother in question is essentially allowing us an insight into her thought process, in which she is making excuses for the fact that she quite obviously suffers from Compulsive Binge Eating Disorder, which is, in fact an eating disorder.

So, perhaps she should ‘get through it using therapy’? Just a thought.

20th October 2010 - Body Gossip Your Status Day!

2010-10-19T04:46:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow (20th October) is officially ‘Body Gossip Your Status' Day – An all-inclusive, never before trialed cyber event taking place on Facebook and Twitter.

We all have fleeting body-related thoughts, pretty much every minute of the day. Everything from ‘my hair needs cutting’ to ‘my back’s hurting a bit’ – So this is an event that everyone can hop on board with, regardless of gender, race, or location.

Just to pluck an example out of thin air, as I type I am thinking ‘I wish this desk-chair had an inbuilt cushion, it’s hurting my bum bones’. Which has inevitably led to the thought ‘why don’t I have a J-lo/Beyonce style pre-cushioned arse of fabulousness, then I wouldn’t have to worry so much about my upholstery?’. (Also – ‘I bet J-lo doesn’t need that many scatter cushions in her house but has them anyway, for who can resist a scatter cushion and what simpler way is there to transform your home’s interior?’ – Although that’s not strictly body related, just demonstrates my love for cushions – Which I’m fairly certain I genetically inherited from my Mother).

The thought I tend to have every day, though, is how wonderful it feels to be healthy. I can still recall distinctly the feeling of waking up during the bulimia wilderness years, after bingeing and purging the previous day, despite my last ‘episode’ being almost three years ago. The immediate sensation I encountered on those days would be a mixture of shame, exhaustion and dehydration.

There’s a split second when we wake up each morning when we register the physical but our emotions/thoughts have yet to catch-up. Usually, it happens when you’ve split up with your boyfriend, cried yourself to sleep, awake abruptly to the thought ‘what in Bowie’s name is wrong with my eyes and why have they been replaced with tiny balls of fire in my cranium?’ and then suddenly remember ‘oh. That’s right’. A friend of mine was experiencing this on a daily basis, following the termination of her 3 year romance, and found that if she immediately pressed ‘play’ on her CD player, before she had time to wallow in her misery (in which was invariably a Russell Brand audio-book) she could dampen the feelings of dismay, the awful sinking feeling of dread where all her emotions and memories rushed to the surface in a great big tidal wave. (I’m pretty sure that the fact that she’s now convinced Russell is making a momentous mistake marrying Katy Perry on Saturday and that she is, in fact, his one true love is largely unrelated. I think).

A similar thing used to happen to me – I’d open my eyes and think ‘why the pounding head, sore throat and aching limbs. Why the sense of shame?....Oh right’.

If it never rained, we wouldn’t learn to appreciate the sunshine. In a similar way, for the past three years I’ve noted with glee the lack of constant flu-like symptoms, the absence of mental anguish surrounding food and the changes which have occurred in my healthy body. Little things others take for granted, like the presence of brand new, thick hair framing my face, and my nails no longer sporting deep ridges caused my vitamin deficiency, are things I can acknowledge and be grateful for.

I always describe the memories of my eating disorder as being rather like they happened to an old friend – Someone to whom I was very close at the time, but have since lost contact with. In recovering I rediscovered my true self. It’s a shame, then, that the stubborn notion that eating disorders are a life sentence, something to be battled every day, even in recovery, remains ever present. I have encountered some prejudice, in the same way as someone who has a previous drug addiction might, even though it ceases to have any impact of their life today.

So, tomorrow, I’ll be tweeting tweets and facebooking statuses (statii?) of joy, as I contemplate the fact that I can bound out of bed, ready to face the day, every nerve and sinew robust. I can celebrate my abundant curves and my naturally muscular frame. I can make evident my love for my body in its natural and healthy state (bony bottom included).

To get involved in tomorrow’s event, simply tweet of facebook your body gossip and tag #bodygossip. For more information go to www.bodygossip.org.

The World has Officially Gone Bonkers

2010-10-17T13:58:00.000-07:00

I’m having a nervous breakdown. Everything I thought to be righteous and true in life is turning topsy turvy in terrifying, apocalyptic style manner.

First came the news that X Factor contestants are covering David Bowie ‘Heroes’ as this year’s for-a-good-cause-but-still-hugely-manipulative-and-a-bit-rubbish charity single. I fear that combining the entity from which emulates everything which is good about music and life, i.e. Bowie, with the artistic void which is X Factor will inevitably lead to a black hole above the universe and we are all destined for obliteration. Apparently, also Simon Cowell is badgering Bowie to appear on the show. In the eventuality that this travesty against everything occurs, we can only hope that Dave does the ‘Bing Crosby/Kenny Everett alien death stare of coldness’ throughout (hard core Bowie fans will know exactly what I mean). The whole concept is enough to drive one to despair.

Anyway, all this has little to do with the beauty debate (issue of Bowie being genuinely original in seemingly just feeling like donning bizarre garb, unwittingly creating media frenzy and every artist since copying this by deliberately attempting to be outrageous aside). The news that has really affected the sphere of body confidence is the recent story of Christina Hendricks going on a diet.

Now, as those who know me can testify, I am an assured woman, confident in the fabulousness of my curvaceous attractiveness. However, the Hendricks news has induced some genuine insecurity. For, if the one size 14 role model in Hollywood has felt such immense pressure as to compel her into starvation, what hope is there for the rest of us?

I’m simply baffled. Why? A quick straw poll of my male acquaintances revealed her to be, without exception, the most lusted-after starlet since Marylin Monroe. Why the quest for androgyny? Why diminish one’s sex appeal? The only response I can reasonably fathom is that Hollywood is so calculating and evil it’s caused her to take leave of her senses.

Christina, in the extremely unlikely event that you happen to be reading this – For the love of everything DON’T DO IT. Millions of curvy (read: curvy, NOT fat) women throughout the Globe will be left disillusioned and you will be left considerably less fabulous. (Also, I will be very upset).

Awaiting news now: “Nigella Lawson slimmed down to size 8 reveals new streamlined shape shocker”. That really would clinch it. Think I need a little lie down…….

Size 16 - What Does it Mean?

2010-10-15T05:47:00.001-07:00

This is me. My name is Natasha Devon and I am a SIZE 16.

Michael McIntyre does a hilarious sketch with a (perhaps unwittingly) serious message, involving his wife becoming increasingly alarmed, distressed and aggressive, as she ‘changes size’ from one shop to the next. “She stays the same size” he declares, bemused, “but in one shop she will be a size 8 and then it’s a good day. Yet in the next she might be a 12, and then we have to go home”.

Whilst men might be baffled by this phenomenon, it’s something most women can relate to. Taking a philosophical standpoint (as is my wont), the whole idea of approximating one’s body shape to the nearest pre-defined set of stats and declaring oneself to be ‘that size’ is a bizarre ritual. The sort of thing that would perplex aliens, should we happen to be under extra-terrestrial observation.

Clothes, after all, are meant to fit our bodies and yet, as times have moved on from the bespoke era (a marvellous, Jane Austin style time where everyone’s clothes were made to measure – How I’d like to usher those days back in, if only to stamp out once and for all the Era of the Muffin Top), we’ll hear women screech ‘I want to get back down to a size 10!’ in tones of abject despair. Yet size 10, as the experience of McIntyre’s wife testifies, is an abstract, ever changing and unregulated ideal. So what is it exactly we are working towards?

In the World of Fashion, sizes are a little more finite, strict – Fascist, even. They have remained staunchly unchanged since earliest memory. Hence why my extremely slender former catwalk model mother still refers to herself as a size 12-14, even though the most perfunctory of visual assessments would place her at no more than a 10 on the High Street.

Hence, also, why I will always refer to myself as a Size 16, which is usually met with gasps of disbelief. I’ve realised that the perceived notion of a size 16 differs somewhat from the ideal as it stands in my head. For me, being 5 foot 10 and a size 16 means I have nicely proportioned curves. I see no shame in the admission whatsoever. Yet, for Joe Public, a size 16 seems to evoke images of Rubenesque decadence.

I asked a friend of mine (who shall remain nameless owing to her somewhat controversial opinion) her thoughts on this issue. “It’s because” she said with some vehemence “fat women always say they are a size 16, even when they’re blatantly about a size 24”. So is it, perhaps that a size 16 is the last socially acceptable size before the official and dreaded ‘obese’ classification? Interesting theory.….

Trinny and Suzannah once did a show where they invited (I think) 100 women into a room who all believed they were a size 16. They varied wildly, and not just because of the height factor. Yet, as discussed, there are no regulating bodies, it’s not like a driving licence where you have to go and take a test before you can declare yourself a size 16, so really it was more a reflection on where they shopped than any sort of self-delusion.

Last night I had a first date with a guy I’d spoken to on the phone a few times. He, naturally enough, had asked on the telephone what I did for a living and, in my response I mentioned that I do occasional plus-size modelling. He, rather normally for a bloke, had no idea what that meant, so I had to elaborate and I said I was a size 16.

During our date, he confessed that he had a totally different idea of what I would look like in the flesh (hence me waving at him frantically from the entrance of Spittlefields Market for a few seconds while he looked at me in a confused manner when we first met). “But…..there’s nothing of you really” he said (using an endearing, times-gone-by style phrase), “the way you describe yourself, I expected you to be, well, big. Not that that would have been a problem” he added, manfully.

The next 30 minutes were spent with me trying, moderately successfully, to convince him that I don’t suffer from body dysmorphia. I stopped just short of showing him the ‘size 16’ label on my coat – One must not resort to empirical evidence when the cunning weaving of words will do just as well. “A plus sized model is just a normal-sized person” I explained “that’s why it was so stupid when they wouldn’t let us model clothes (which are designed for normal people)”.

As anyone who regularly reads my blogs will know, even if someone does fit the pre-existing notion of a size 16 person (as encapsulated by the recent MP calling another MP an elephant debacle – anyone who read the story will catch my drift), that doesn’t prevent the possibility that they are completely, mesmerizingly, fantazmororically beautiful, in my mind. Fat and beautiful are not opposing concepts as far as I’m concerned. Kate Moss is beautiful. So is Dawn French. So are about a gazillion women whose size falls somewhere in-between.

As my (fat, beautiful) cousin pointed out the other evening, the problem with our society essentially boils down to the fact that when an anorexic says “I can’t eat this quarter of an orange, I’ll get fat” our default response is “no you won’t”, when in fact it should be “and what’s so wrong with that?”.

So perhaps the solution is to ban all talk of sizes, for, as evidenced by my experience last night, it’s essentially meaningless and gives no indication of how you’re perceived by others. All I can declare with certainty is that to me, size 16 is a fabulous thing.

To Have and to Hold.....

2010-10-11T09:17:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, a friend asked me a bizarre, nonsensical and utterly baffling question. “Do you want to get married one day?,” she asked. For a split second I thought she might be proposing;, that her panic at her impending 30-and-single status and the apparent non-existence of any normal single men in the World had driven her to lesbianism. But no, upon further examination it transpired that she meant exactly what she said – Did I want to get married one day?

‘To whom?’ I enquired. ‘Whoever’ she said. ‘You know, someone’.

‘But……’ I responded, brows knitted in earnest ‘….I’m not even seeing anyone’.

‘Yeah….but…. Do you want to get married? One day? To someone’.

After several minutes of this seemingly impenetrable conversational loop we established that she perceived marriage as a stand-alone ambition. Something one worked towards. Like becoming an Executive, or travelling round the Globe. I differ somewhat fundamentally, in that I always envisaged that, in the eventuality of my entering into nuptials, I’d meet someone and think ‘I’d rather like to marry YOU’. To me, marriage is person-subjective. But, it seems, if the evidence of my mate is anything to go by, a lot of women are walking around nurturing the idea that THEY WANT TO GET MARRIED.

I’m intrigued. How do these women function, cerebrally? What’s it like in their universe? Are they constantly assessing every man they encounter, thinking ‘ooooh, I could marry you’, or not, as the case may be? The mind boggles.
Anyway, the entire conversation got me thinking, unusually, about wedding dresses and their implication for the body confidence debate.

Now, I’m aware that there are lots of different types of wedding dresses and what I am about to say may potentially be a hugely offensive mass generalisation, but one can only speak from experience.

The reason I have a fundamental objection to the prevailing wedding dress trends is this – They are designed to conform to the generally quite patriarchal structure of a bygone society, as is in fact the entire traditional wedding ceremony. “Giving the bride away?” suggests that she is property to be passed ceremonially from one man to another like cattle. “Love, honour and obey” – Obey? Hardly words inspired by enlightening times.

The strapless bodice and enormous great puffy skirt trend instantly transforms the most independent, capable woman into someone who has all the appearance of a six year old at her first tea party. Fairy princess chic is a contradiction in terms, as far as I’m concerned.

If life takes me on a meeting-someone-suitable-for-marriage type trajectory, I envisage myself wearing something that makes me look like a formidable Amazonian Goddess Queen type person. That makes me look like a grown up. For pledging your life to someone by means of a legally binding contract is a really rather grown up thing to do.

I saw a grown-up vision of resplendent elegance in a Bride once. Admittedly, she was my mother, who I can confidently assert shares at least some of my views on the whole marriage issue. She got her dress from Bodice and Bustle, a boutique run by a woman so devoted to finding you a flattering dress and, more crucially, fitting it correctly (if you will insist on the six year old at a tea party look it is at least important to NOT look as though you borrowed the dress from your Mum), I have my doubts as to whether she ever sleeps.

So, brides to be, do it for me – I want to start a revolution with this blog – A trend for women who look like women when they marry their dream man (or, at least, a half decent man, if you’re the ‘I want to get married’ type). A protest against all the androgynous, little-girl-lost images we’re so used to seeing in fashion and therefore shouldn’t be seeing in aisles up and down the country. Go to www.bodiceandbustle.com

Advertising Anorexia

2010-09-24T08:49:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: Dear Blog Readers – Please do excuse me if today’s blog isn’t up to my usual standards of sarcasm/wit or, in fact, makes no sense whatsoever. I am writing at the tail-end of a flu induced malaise. I have spent the past 5 days experiencing what I can only compare to the worst kind of drunken dizziness, stumbling into my furniture (even more than usual), or sailing around on a tidal wave of snot as it gushes, vast and untethered from my sore, protesting nostrils. I know - delightful imagery. The whole debacle has left me feeling about as energised/attractive as a 4 day old piece of dry toast that’s been lost down the back of a dusty radiator. However, this week saw the emergence of some important eating disorder related news so I felt compelled to blog:

This week, two awareness-raising advertisements, designed for an Iranian organisation to highlight the dangers of eating disorders, were released for the scrupulous assessment of the public.

The first shows a funeral procession, carrying a coffin as they walk through a bleak looking landscape with the message “15% of women who suffer from anorexia will die this year”. The second shows an emaciated mannequin in a shop window with the tag line “anorexia is not fashionable”.

As could have reasonably been anticipated, there was a horrified backlash as the easily-offended collectively gasped, huffed and tutted at the inappropriate use of ‘humour’ and shocking nature of the images.

Let us turn our attention to the first image, of the funeral. As I said to all my horrified mates when I was in year 10, as they bleated about being ‘traumatised’ by the music video for Michael Jackson’s ‘Earth Song’ (which we’d all stayed in specially to watch on Top of the Pops in the days before MTV) – “Bad stuff (in this instance, little baby seals getting clubbed over the head) happens and if you don’t like it, do something about it – Protest, give money to a charity, sign a petition – But don’t complain about the people who show the realities of life because it’s not quite palatable to you”.

Anorexia kills – FACT. It has the highest mortality rate of any mental illness. I read that some 60% of anorexia sufferers die prematurely – That means it is more likely to kill you than not. Terrifying? Yes. True? Also, yes. Denying the right of awareness-raising organisations to show an image depicting death in relation to an illness which causes death is the equivalent of sticking one’s fingers in one’s ears and saying ‘lalalala! Not listening!’ Which isn’t terribly mature. So the simple message here is: Get over it.

Now, the issues relating to the second image, the mannequin, are more complex. Perhaps there is something seriously amiss with my sense of humour (although if the recent conference delegate who suggested I should be a stand-up comic after witnessing my seminar is to be believed then probably not), but I fail to see anything funny in the picture. I also fail entirely to see how it could be construed as such. I have analysed every nuance, every facet, every angle, willing myself to detect an iota of hidden humour and yet there the advert remains, being not funny.

Perhaps it was an attempt at capturing Irony, Humour’s cousin. Which would be a valid argument if it didn’t worryingly resemble the shop windows we see in our high streets on a day-to-day basis, but for a few protruding bones adding a touch of realism.

I do have a problem with the mannequin message, although not the prevailing ‘anorexia isn’t funny you sick bastard!’ attitude that it seems to have provoked. Saying ‘anorexia is not fashionable’ is like saying ‘there’s no such thing as propaganda’. In an ideal World, it should be true, and yet all the evidence points to the contrary. The fact is, the mannequin resembles your average straight size model and models are, by definition fashionable. The fact that anorexia is undeniably in vogue is the entire reason there needs to be a campaign in the first place. Perhaps something has been lost in translation.

Of course, you could argue that anorexia is a form of self-harm, induced by private feelings of emotional turmoil that have no cultural context. However, at the nub of all the lifestyle and beauty-based evil in the World is the idea that thinness provides an escape from life’s problems and that is something perpetuated by fashion, so it’s a mute point.

The mannequin picture didn’t need a slogan. It speaks for itself. The addition of a skeletal structure which would be present on a real human body to a plastic imitation the same size as we regularly encounter is an image worth a thousand words.

The Quest for Eternal Youth. Yawn.

2010-09-06T04:36:00.000-07:00

Last week, I was horrified and fascinated in equal measure to see that Demi Moore had resorted to the sort of behaviour usually reserved for 16 year old girls with self-esteem issues (and an inexplicable and insatiable desire for reassurance from random pervs) and posted a picture of herself on Twitter in her undercrackers. Not a professionally taken picture, backlit, lounging casually by her pool. Oh no. It was a point-and-shoot-we-can-clearly-see-the-camera-flash-in-the-mirror job.

Despite appearances, the woman is 47 years old. After 47 years, you’d think if she wanted a bit of attention she’d have enough knowledge to say something fabulously outrageous, controversial, intelligent and interesting, rather than resorting to getting her cosmetically-enhanced baps out.

What beggars belief to an even greater degree, is that The Mirror (gawd bless their total disregard for anything approaching responsible journalism or ventures outside the realms of celeb bodies, paedophilia and Iraq) went with the ‘My, doesn’t she look amazing for her age?’ angle.

I think I can categorically say that Demi Moore doesn’t look ‘amazing for her age’. Not by my definition of the phrase in any event. Helen Mirren looks amazing for her age. Joanna Lumley looks amazing for her age. Growing old with a smidgen of class, perhaps doing a few sit ups, dressing appropriately for your shape, moisturising and having an air of dignity all fall within my definition of ‘looking amazing for your age’. Paying someone to suck out/replace or tamper with all vestiges of the body Mother Nature bestowed upon you in an exhausting and fruitless quest to capture the essence of youth is lazy, dangerous and damaging to the self-esteem of Middle aged women everywhere. Beauty not only comes in all shapes, sizes, races and colours, there’s room for a spectrum of ages too.

Fifty years ago, women rarely shaved their legs (just shoved said pins into a pair of 40 dernier stockings which covered a multitude of sins) and their beauty regime tended to be restricted to a slick of lippy and a bit of pressed powder. Today, we would consider that a lazy way to approach grooming. Even I’d tend towards that opinion. What concerns me is that we are heading towards a time where botox, face peels, implants and even knee skin realignment (a procedure which Demi is rumoured to have undergone) are considered an essential part of one’s beauty regime. Will those who don’t succumb to these invasive and potentially harmful procedures be considered ‘lazy’?

I sincerely hope not. I hope that the backlash against the increasing pressure to conform to a fixed beauty aesthetic perpetuated by projects like Body Gossip save us from a bizarre and plastic future, where women like Demi are hailed as Goddesses without even having to open their collagen-injected mouths.

What a Brilliant Idea......In Principle

2010-07-29T04:16:00.000-07:00

Anne Milton, the new Health Minister, has suggested that doctors should tell overweight patents that they are 'fat' rather than 'obese'. Her reasoning being that 'obese' doesn't have the same negative implications as 'fat' and is easier to justify in one's mind ('I have an under active thyroid, bad genes' etc). She says that 'fat' is a shocking term, which will compel patients into losing weight action.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2010/jul/28/doctors-feat-obese-warnings-health

Whilst, obviously, this is nonsense ('fat' is a subjective and potentially self-esteem damaging term based on a visual assessment, whereas 'obese' strikes fear into the hearts of most people), I am fully supportive of the current obesity criteria being scrapped.

Back in January, I posted a blog called 'the B in BMI' after my 5 ft 6, size 10 friend came home from a routine check-up at her GP in tears, having been told she was 'technically obese'. Any sensible human being with eyes would have looked at her and said she was slender, yet it appears that her doctor didn't take the requisite moment to glance up from his BMI chart in order to ascertain this.

The statistics which are parroted ad infinitum about our increasingly 'obese' population are therefore rendered meaningless.

If, in the unlikely eventuality that Anne Milton is not being fascetious and a tad judgmental and ACTUALLY means that doctors should use their common sense to assess whether a patient is 'fat', rather than using their dreaded Bollocks Mass Index charts, then I say bring on the revolution! However I fear I am perhaps giving her a little too much credit and what she actually meant was 'let's chase those deplorable fatties out of the country with STICKS!'.

Cr Christian Jessen -vs- Common Sense

2010-07-28T13:48:00.000-07:00

I am frantic. The deadline for the first issue of Evolve Magazine is looming and as Features Editor I have my work well and truly cut out. I’m having about 37 simultaneous heart attacks* and have drunk my body weight in nice, soothing cups of tea. However, so disgusted was I by today’s events, I thought I’d cease having heart attacks briefly to indulge in a good old rant.

*Not really, please don’t call an ambulance.

You may recall, Blog Fans, that last year Giles Coren incurred the wrath of Body Gossipers everywhere when he shouted random, increasingly ludicrous statements in a maniacal fashion at Ruth Rogers on Radio Five Live. It was ok, though, because Giles Coren is just a food critic with (I suspect) borderline anorexia (not a medical expert, or a person whose opinion should be trusted on anything outside the realms of the quality of one’s gravy) and judging from the listeners who phoned in, most people were able to use their noddles and judge (correctly) that he was spouting utter tosh.

However, I was decidedly more disappointed to note that Dr Christian Jessen has today written a piece condemning plus size models as unhealthy role models in an increasingly obese population, (which was the argument that Mr Coren’s nonsensical rantings also essentially amounted to, if you were able to decipher it between his frothing at the mouth and waxing lyrical about Kate Moss’ arse). So often, people seem to be posing the question ‘why all this emphasis on eating disorders when the REAL problem is obesity?’ and now Dr C has jumped on the bandwagon.

There are a few blindingly obvious misconceptions which need to be addressed, and I am shocked that it didn’t occur to Dr Christian to do his research (back to medical school for you, I think):

1. Compulsive overeating is a type of eating disorder. It has the same common root as anorexia and bulimia (low self-esteem) and should be treated with equal gravity and sympathy. Low self-esteem is generated, in part, by the expectation to conform to an unrealistic beauty aesthetic. Therefore it’s perfectly possible that the sight of a gazelle-like, airbrushed slip of a thing could have you reaching for the Pringles.

2. Whilst there is evidence to support the idea that seeing extremely thin models on television and billboards has an adverse effect on self-esteem, there is no corresponding evidence for feeling the overwhelming desire to binge after an episode of the Vicar of Dibley. Obese ‘role models’ are there to represent, not to inspire.

3. Even if this were the case, we are talking about ‘obese’ people in any event. Traditionally, a ‘straight size’ model is anything between a UK size 4 (US size 0) and a size 8. A ‘plus size’ model is therefore defined as anyone who is over a size 10. A size 10, 12 or 14 person is not ‘fat’, particularly if they are, as is often the case, 5 foot 10 or over. (Yes, that’s even by the standards of the Bollocks Mass Index charts, I think you will find).

I could continue, but I have lost the will to type, so filled with despair am I at this apparent overlooking of the facts and the potential damage it could do to the progress being made in the beauty revolution. I used to love a bit of Super Size –v- Super Skinny but I’ll be boycotting it from now on. Very, very poor show, Dr Christian. Hang your head in shame.

Cosmetic Surgery: Beautifier or Beast Maker?

2010-07-27T03:50:00.000-07:00

It’s ironic, really, how the programmes which are deemed suitable to be aired before the watershed often result in the most potential controversy. Perhaps it’s because we’ve come to associate daytime television with recipes for cheesecake and ex Big Brother contestants scoping out holiday destinations – As we prepare to be awash in a sea of bland non-offensiveness, suddenly someone chucks in a shark.

Today’s ‘ouch’ moment came, perhaps less surprisingly, courtesy of Katie Price, who declared in her usual brash and flippant manner that everyone, absolutely EVERYONE has had botox. With a little bit of creative interpretation, I managed to decipher that she was referring to her celebrity peers, emphasising that at least she is up front (as it were) about it. I’m actually with Pricey on this one – There should be some sort of law which compels celebs to be honest about the ‘work’ they have had done, just as there should be a whacking great sticker slapped across most ads, billboards and music videos stating ‘AIRBRUSHED’. (Interestingly Lib Dem MP Lynne Featherstone said as much in a recent interview in the Times so perhaps this might become a reality, although it might take some persuading for the Tories to confess the extent to which their recent election campaign bore the signs of digital enhancement).

However, this disclaimer in place, Katie’s statement was more than a tad idiotic and potentially damaging. In fact, NOT ‘everyone’ has had botox. I, for one, fail to see the attraction of allowing someone without any formal medical qualifications to come anywhere near my face with a syringe full of poison. Perpetuating the idea that most people have had the procedure done suggests that you are somehow at a disadvantage if you abstain from this latest fad.

Coincidentally, not 12 hours beforehand I was discussing the thorny issue of cosmetic surgery with Sherryl Blu on Bang Radio, following everyone’s sudden, inexplicable simultaneous realisation that perhaps Kim Kardashian might have had a bit of facial reconstruction (you don’t say).

The increasing availability of cheap cosmetic surgery is something that worries me on a sociological level, and not just because in the year 3,000 I foresee a strange and plastic land where we all look like identikit Barbie hybrids. Shudder. It concerns me because we appear fear too quick to jump to the conclusion that a boob job, liposuction or whatever will magically solve our self-esteem issues.

I was shocked when I took my body confidence campaign to schools and learned that 14 year olds (who have little idea what their fully developed shape will turn out to be) were already saving for their first cosmetic procedure. Long gone are those innocent times when a makeover meant a trip to Boots for some sparkly rimmel lipgloss.

The very existence of the possibility of having surgery, coupled with the ever growing myth that ‘everyone’ is doing it, simply puts increasingly aggressive pressure on every day people to reach the giddy heights of some fabricated ideal of perfection. In the 1950s, the average woman knew she was never going to look like Marylin Monroe. My Nan would have positively scoffed at anything more self-indulgent than a touch of pressed powder and a dash of lippy. Yet she still knew she was beautiful, (as did my Granddad). Yet, as the possibility of emulating our celeb counterparts becomes more and more real, so our collective self-esteem plummets. Coincidence? I think not.

A great honking pair of huge melon-like breasts may be visually arresting and they may attract some superficial type attention, but I can guarantee they’ll prove a fruitless sticking-plaster, vainly attempting to hold together the vast chasm that is low self-worth. The thousands of pounds we are pouring into changing our bodies would be much better spent on changing our minds and appreciating ourselves just the way we are.

Beauty Gaff of the Moment

2010-07-24T13:01:00.000-07:00

Apparently, the person responsible for the post-production of a photograph of the resplendent, amazonian gorgeousness that is Crystal Renn justified 'airbrushing' her from a her usual size 14 to an estimated size 6 by saying 'it is my job to make women more beautiful'. Words fail me.

Sex & The Curvy Lady

2010-07-12T03:33:00.000-07:00

My mate Claudia is the kind of woman who reduces red-blooded men to dribbling wrecks. Her abundant, barely contained hourglass curves scream ‘sexy’, her long lashed peepers have a constant mischievous glint and her plump pout is practically demanding to be kissed. Any objective observer would describe this lady as dangerously beautiful.

Until recently, Claudia was dating a guy who not only physically repulsed her, but his constant attempts to undermine and ridicule her had a damaging effect on her self esteem. She remained in this sham of a relationship for almost a year. When I ask her why, her shocking response is that she did not think she was worthy of the kind of man she found attractive because she considers herself to be overweight.

I know from personal experience the price of selling yourself short. My ex is what can only be described as a Poisoned Dwarf, with no physically or emotionally redeeming features whatsoever. I mean, like, none. And when I met my current beau, who is impossibly handsome, in addition to being funny, caring and possessing a number of other qualities which I cannot list in a public forum without rendering it x rated, my default reaction was to assume that he was out of my league.

By pure coincidence, today a news story broke concerning actress Cheryl Ferguson (Eastenders’ Heather Trott)’s romance with a “penniless Morroccan toy boy goat herder”. Now, far be it from me to suggest that Cheryl is not desperately in love and that her penniless toy boy has anything but the most sincere of intentions, or anything. I’m just saying, potentially, there might be some synergy in our stories. You know, to make it topical and that.

Claudia, Cheryl and myself represent a worryingly high proportion of women in the UK – Professionally and socially confident ladies who are lacking our usual self-assurance when it comes to romance. Claudia says “I always felt like I was on the back-foot, like the guy I was with was doing me a favour or making some kind of concession by being with me. I look at really desirable guys and assume they want to be with someone slim”.

Women are by nature self deprecating creatures and we find all sorts of reasons to put ourselves down. Being curvy, however, must cease and desist as a potential reason. After all, if men are to be believed, it’s an asset.

It seems that despite this, however, the thin = sexy idiom is prevailing. So, in our first ever issue of Evolve Magazine, I will be finding out what men really think of fuller figures and to get tips from sexually confident plus-size women on how to work it in and out of the bedroom. This exciting first issue will also feature plus size fashion, health, beauty and lifestyle as well as arts and entertainment and will be out on 31st August 2010. Join the Evolve Magazine Facebook page for regular updates and remember the Evolve motto – Be Proud, Be You!

The Importance of Perceived Health

2010-07-08T03:32:00.001-07:00

Back in 2002, at the peak of my brief and ill-advised foray into the World of straight-size modeling, I was called into my agent’s office one morning and asked in solemn tones if I had an eating disorder. ‘Of course not’, I lied (fairly transparently). After all, I was a size 10 at that particular moment in time, which is monsterously fat by model standards and I didn’t want my agent to think I couldn’t hack the weight-loss pace.

‘Good’, she replied. And that was that. What I didn’t know was that around that time, the media, gawd bless ‘em, were putting increasingly aggressive pressure on the fashion industry to ensure that models who were known to have eating disorders were not paraded on the catwalk. The problem was, and continues to be, that no one is sure a) how an eating disorder is detected and b) how this rule should be enforced (and by whom). The concept has its heart firmly in the right place, but, much like communism, it doesn’t work in practice.

Eating disorders are, by their very nature, secret. Despite all the speculation in celebrity glossies about who might or might not have one, no one really knows for sure. I know one might find this difficult to believe, but it is entirely possible that your favourite fashion model does NOT have anorexia. What IS, however, empirically evident is the fact that uber-skinny celebrities are being used as ‘thinspiration’ and, however unwittingly, encourage unhealthy behaviours in the people who idolize them.

I have therefore reached the conclusion that perceived health is what must be enforced.

‘Perceived Health’ can be summarized thusly: If you look anorexic, you cannot be a model. This might seem unjust – You might find yourself feeling sympathetic towards all those people who might naturally exhibit protruding bones and a gaunt physique. Well, to the less than 1% of the population for whom that organically applies I am afraid I have to say what the fashion industry has been saying to anyone over a size 6 for years: Tough. Find another profession.

The firm line I have taken on this issue was further reinforced today when I saw shocking pictures of Rosie Huntingdon-Whitely, ribcage on display for all to see, in a news feature alongside a description of her as “one of the World’s most beautiful women”.

Plus size super model Crystal Renn makes an interesting observation in her book ‘Hungry’ – She says that when Kate Moss debuted in the fashion sphere in the 1990s, she set a new standard for skinniness - standard which went on to be perpetually exceeded. I happened upon the pictures of one of Kate's first shoots with Calvin Klein just the other day and contemplated how true Crystal's statement was. Compared with Rosie’s latest pictures, Kate looks positively Rubenesque.

It's little wonder, then, that society’s perception of beauty is woefully skewed and we must crucially devote time and energy to setting a new, visibly healthier standard. Deciding the criteria for this standard will be time consuming, difficult and expensive, but it will save lives.

The Big Breast Debate

2010-06-29T03:25:00.000-07:00

If there is one thing Western Society doesn’t need, it’s for more of our attention to be focused on boobs. However, the nation’s cleavages were once again thrust into the limelight today as the Daily Mail’s Bel Mooney published a witty and well-reasoned repost to Kathryn Blundell’s controversial article in a magazine for new mothers, which declared breast feeding to be ‘creepy’.

Now, I’m going to preface my contribution to the Great Boob Debate by telling you what qualifies me as a brexpert (breast expert). My tits are close to my heart, both physically, figuratively, metaphorically and symbolically. No one can fathom from wence they came, being as I am the product of two Dynasties of Modest Curves. Inexplicably, after my recovery from anorexia in 1996, I literally woke up one morning with a magnificent chest, totally out of proportion with my frame (or at least that’s how it seemed at the time). At university, I soon became known as ‘the girl with the boobs’ and celebrated and lamented them in equal measure, as I attracted admiring glances from the campus’ male dwellers but struggled to be taken seriously in my beloved debating chambers.

Bizarrely, when you consider I was in the grip of a new eating disorder by that stage, I made peace with my plentiful bosom relatively early on. There was (and continues to be) absolutely no disguising them, so I decided to make them a feature. Many years of IRG’s (inappropriately-revealing-garments) later (if you can’t do it in your mid 20s when can you?) and I’m now totally au fait with the art of the modest cleavage. I’m also reconciled to the idea that the vast majority of heterosexual males find my breasts unfathomably fascinating.

My chest was thrust upon me and as such became part of my identity (although it doesn’t totally eclipse it, fortunately). It’s usually the first thing people notice about me, and forms an element of their descriptions of me. If I devote any time to counterbalancing any subsequent bimbo assumptions, I do it so utterly unconsciously that I haven’t noticed. I’m quite happy to acknowledge that “yes, they’re huge” (34H in case you’re wondering) before moving onto the next, infinitely more interesting subject.

Having said all of the above, I do, perhaps surprisingly, have some rather strong views on the way women’s chests are sexualized and perceived and I’m thoroughly opposed to breast implants for solely cosmetic reasons. Working with teenagers is a fantastic eye-opener in this regard. Whereas men my age are, as a general rule, adverse to the idea of dome-like, rigid, plastic bosoms, guys in their teens and early twenties appear to regard them as normal. They can hardly be blamed for this. When was the last time you saw a natural looking breast in a magazine, on the internet or on television? Even those ever-decreasing minority of celebs who haven’t succumbed to the allure of plastic surgery (hang your head in shame at your glaringly obvious departure from this minority, SJP) are edited in post production so that their cups positively runneth over, and apparently they’ve now runneth’d as far as the general expectation of the collective male minds.

Girls as young as 12 are now asking their parents for birthday boob jobs, so conditioned are they by the idea that massive boobs = instant attractiveness. Once, it was relatively unusual to see implants in real life. Now, they’re as normal as fake nails (with the crucial difference of course that one cannot simply remove them at the end of the night). Again, it’s what this represents, rather than the girls themselves, that I resent (I don’t walk around emanating transparent hatred for the great plastic masses, just mild pity) – i.e. the terrifying departure we are making from natural beauty into the realms of cyborg-like uniformity.

Newsflash, boys: Sorry to disappoint but breasts are for babies. They are there to nourish our offspring first and foremost and your mysterious ability to derive sexual pleasure out of them is a secondary factor (and in my case, an unexpected bonus). Blundell’s article, which placed the blame for her aversion to breastfeeding at the door of, to paraphrase, not wanting droppy tits, is not only a testament to our increasingly aesthetic obsessed society, it’s also vaguely pathetic. There I was thinking I was, to an extent, defined by my breasts and here is a woman so chest-centrically-obsessed she is prepared to sacrifice the wellbeing of her own children in her quest for perkiness.

Bel Mooney hits the nail squarely and spectacularly on the head with her observation that this is an example of our changing (for the worse) attitudes towards femininity and you can read her article by clicking http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1290442/BEL-MOONEY-How-sad-mothers-seen-sex-objects-breastfeed-child.html.

Julien MacDonald - Face. Bovvered.

2010-06-17T01:59:00.000-07:00

Now, far be it for me to suggest for one moment that Julien MacDonald made his recent remarks in the press about plus size models being a ‘joke’ to raise publicity for the impending televisual flop which is Britain’s Next Top Model (the American version can be vaguely amusing, if you enjoy your soul slowly being sucked out of your eyes in a tornado of vacuous cattiness- but does anyone actually watch the British version?)……However, he quite obviously did.

I’m therefore not going to devote a great deal of my time to explaining WHY his remarks are idiotic (as I credit the readers of my blog with enough intelligence to figure that out for themselves).

I will merely say this: MacDonald represents the kind of archaic, head-in-my-own-posterior mentality which is, mercifully, gradually being stamped out in the fashion industry. In the meantime, he should stick to designing for Debenhams. After all, perhaps if he devoted a little more time to considering designs which would flatter real women they wouldn’t have to reduce his line by 70% every sale season just to shift it off the shelves.

Why the Beauty Issue is More than Skin Deep

2010-06-09T08:20:00.001-07:00

Yesterday evening I attended the Ogunte Women’s Social Leadership Awards on behalf of Ruth Rogers, who had been finalized in the ‘Campaigns’ category for Body Gossip (woo!). I wore my lucky hot pink suede stilettos, and as such was confident she’d scoop the prestigious gong, but sadly on this occasion, they remained merely fabulous footwear and didn’t work their usual magic (we was robbed). I did, however, feel right at home in a room populated entirely with women incredibly passionate about social change and prepared to chew your ear right off in order to achieve it.

Most of these women were incredible, inspiring and equally interested in our campaign as I was in there’s. One of them, conversely, shocked me with her rudimentary understanding of Body Gossip. She lollopped up to me, examined my name tag and remarked in tones dripping with sarcasm ‘oh yes, Body Gossip, that’s people moaning about their bodies isn’t it? Like it’s the end of the World if you don’t like your body. Ha!’. Momentarily stunned I simply replied ‘not exactly, no’.

I was then treated to what was obviously a very well-rehearsed 20 minute rant about climate change, how no one appreciates the urgency, how it’s the most pressing social issue in today’s society, the root of most natural disaster and human tragedy and of course the implication of all this being that Body Gossip paled into insignificance by comparison.

I felt my 18 year old self (the champion Oxford Union debater) stir within me. I tried to placate her by eating black 4 olives on a skewer. She wasn’t having any of it. Olives were apparently no substitute for the joy of a decisive rebuttal. Finally, I turned to face this walking mass of self-righteousness straight on and said ‘perhaps there are issues which you perceive to be more worthy than body image. However, I think you will find most people are far too crippled with insecurity and self-loathing to give a tiny little rats arse about the environment, so perhaps you had better jump on board, love’.

I then treated her to a catwalk style pivot, head swish and onward saunter, if only to demonstrate that there is no law against pioneering for social change AND conditioning your hair.

If history has taught us anything, it is that sweeping issues under the proverbial rug is the least effective means possible of solving them. We might not like to think of ourselves as the kind of ‘superficial’ people who might get swept into life-crippling body image obsession, but until we face our demons, we’ll be rendered incapable of thinking about much else, including, but not limited to, climate change.

Attempting to abstain from society, opting out, not getting on the celebrity worship merry-go-round and snorting derisively at the entire situation doesn’t help either. The fact is that we live in a world where an estimated 30% of young men and 70% of young women cite their relationship with their body as their number 1 worry. These young people have the potential to be anything (they could even go on to be scientists who discover an alternative for current fuels, you will note, Climate Change Lady), but they are flittering away this potential by pouring their energy into obtaining an elusive ‘perfect’ aesthetic. 1 in 10 people under the age of 25 allow this to develop into an eating disorder, with millions more opting to exhibit their dissatisfaction in other ways (body dysmorphia, depression, self harm, alcohol abuse etc).

Whilst perhaps not as dramatic as a natural disaster, lack of self esteem is, undoubtedly, killing people. Furthermore, however much we dislike admitting it, we are all responsible for the state of society and we all have a responsibility to fix it.

Would I consider campaigning for climate change? Absolutely. But I’m going to work on the self esteem and mindset of as many young people in this country as I can first.

After all, everyone has a different passion. Mine is ensuring teenagers are allowed to fulfill their potential and succeed in their chosen field without having their lives blighted by the physical and emotional problems which accompany low body confidence (and getting the diagnostic criteria for eating disorders changed…… and enlightening people about the genius of David Bowie…….. but those are for other days). Ruth’s is ensuring real people’s body stories are given a powerful voice, so that we can appreciate natural and realistic beauty. Climate Change Lady’s is saving the environment. No one is more worthy or urgent than the other. Just like there’s room for all types of bodies in the beauty spectrum, there’s room for all sorts of causes in the concept of social change.

So, the moral of the story is, if you wish to confront me and question everything I stand for at a public event, please feel free to do so, but do be prepared to be put down spectacularly by Oxford Union Girl (I cannot control her, I’m sorry, she is a force unto herself) and then to be the subject of one of my blog-rants. Don’t say you have not been warned.

Ditch the Diets!

2010-05-25T02:42:00.000-07:00

Oh, you wonderful Daily Mail Online readers, you have done it again! I never cease to be amazed by the level of anger and self-righteousness you display, or your willingness to exhibit opinions on topics upon which you clearly have little to no expertise.

Who are these people who become so enraged by other people’s perceived lack of healthy lifestyle/fatness? Every health related headline in the DM might as well read ‘how this person’s laziness/greed is consuming YOUR hard earned money in NHS tax funding. Let’s drive them out of the country with sticks!’.

This week’s particular little nugget of wisdom comes from Lizzie in London who, in response to a story of how hypnotherapy helped one lady go from a size 24 to a size 14, says:

‘The hard work in excercising [sic] and eating well is down to her own will power and sheer perseverance.

Hypnotherapy is not a magic bullet to slimming and weight loss There is still hard work involved!’

First of all, Lizzie, please learn to spell, lest I chase your presumably slender yet woefully uneducated self out of the country (using sticks).

Secondly, as Mark Newey, certified hypnotherapist and catalyst for countless successful weight loss endeavors points out, this thing we refer to as ‘willpower’ is actually our conscious mind, which is a measly 9% of our overall brain mass.

If we indulge in a particular behaviour for a sustained period of time, be it a positive activity (exercising, driving) or a negative one (smoking, overeating) it is adopted by the much larger unconscious brain as behavioural programming, thus freeing up the conscious to think about other stuff (like the yummy bloke we happen to be dating and what happened on Eastenders last night and why you never see a baby pigeon….ok perhaps that’s just me).

Ever read to the bottom of a page and realised you weren’t paying attention and can’t remember what it said? That’s your unconscious mind saying ‘aaaah, I know how to read. I’ve read stuff before! Let me take over this activity’. Your conscious mind wanders and before you know it you’re chastising yourself for not paying attention and having to repeat the entire reading process.

Now, say you make a decision that you would like to change a particular behavioural programme. What’s essentially happening is that 9% of your mind is taking on the might of 91%, attempting to affect change when the massive and powerful unconscious is willing you to continue acting as you have always done. And then we wonder why ‘diets’ don’t work in 90% of cases.

Hypnotherapy is merely a way of bypassing the conscious mind and accessing the unconscious to make permanent and fast changes. It can break long-standing behavioural patterns and wipe the slate clean. Mark tells his weight loss clients ‘now I want you to go away and not give a damn about what you eat’. They stare at him in disbelief, not quite able to comprehend the idea that, after all these years of desperately trying in vain to restrict themselves, they can now eat absolutely anything they want.

The key factor, however, is that because their attitudes towards food, their bodies and themselves have been changed in the unconscious, they will naturally make healthier choices, selecting foods according to what will nourish them, rather than those which will satisfy their emotional cravings.

Which leads me neatly onto my next point. People do not overeat because they are greedy, or lazy or selfish or even because they have an insatiable apatite. Generally, people overeat because it brings them an instantaneous (if very short lived) feeling of pleasure. Comfort eating is merely another crutch, allowing us to feel that we are effectively coping with feelings of loneliness, stress or anxiety. Of course, all it really serves to do is distract us from those feelings (and add an expanding waistline onto our lists of worries).

Guess what other change can be quickly and permanently made in the unconscious? Yes, dear Blog Groupies, we’re back onto my favourite subject – banishing feelings of low self esteem.

And that is why I’m very sorry to have to report that Lizzie in London is, shockingly, wrong.

To find out more about the Winning Minds weight loss programme go to http://www.winningminds.co.uk/therapies/weight-management/.

Ilona Burton -v- Phillip Schofield - My Two Penneth!

2010-05-21T07:56:00.000-07:00

Blog fans will know I am not adverse to expressing a potentially controversial opinion – I’ve been known to incur the wrath of the established medical profession on many occasion and “steady on, Tash” must rank up there amongst my friends’ most frequently repeated phrases. Freedom of speech is one of the main reasons I’m so very glad I was fortunate enough to have made my debut into this mental thing we call the World in Essex, England, where you can rant ‘til your hearts’ content without fear of imprisonment/death and I like to exercise that particular human right whenever possible.

I hope that the above demonstrates how genuine I am when I say I am absolutely divided in the Ilona Burton – v – Phillip Schofield (Nikki Grahame) debate as it rages on, fueled by the two penneths of the general populous and our nation’s favourite silver fox’s vehement tweets. Hard as it may be to conceive of, I have chosen to sit on the fence on this one.

For those of you unfamiliar with the entire debacle, here’s a summary:

Nikki Grahame has written a book about her anorexia battle, went on GMTV to promote it and was asked by host Phillip Schofield about the “tricks” she used to resist recovery, which she duly described in some detail. B-eat ambassador and recovering anorexic Ilona Burton then blogged furiously, claiming that Nikki and GMTV were irresponsible to broadcast what was essentially a Guide to Staying Sick.

Que unfathomable mayhem as Nikki Grahame fans, Ilona supporters and the hefty might of the GMTV watching public engaged in a war of words. Nikki was described as “marmite”, Ilona was described as “ignorant” and there were a few choice words of an unrepeatable nature thrown in the direction of Phillip Schofield, too. Phillip and Ilona went head-to-head in Tweetland – throwing balls of indignation like cannon fire into cyber space.

Naturally, as someone who works with the media, having had personal (and rather extensive) experience of an eating disorder and also heavily involved with Body Gossip (for which Nikki Grahame is, it has to be said, an excellent ambassador) I couldn’t resist sticking my oar in.

So, the first point I’d like to make abundantly clear is that I cannot bring myself to blame Nikki Grahame for any of this. She has been incredibly brave in admitting she has anorexia (which many similarly slender celebrities will not, and simply put down to yoga and eating sushi or some such bollocks) and the proceeds from her book are going to B-eat, so she clearly has honourable intentions.

Having said that, I can understand totally why Ilona was angered by the episode. It’s a classic dilemma which I have encountered with the media on several occasions. Fortunately, I have been lucky enough to have been taken into the bosom of Cosmopolitan Magazine, the fantastically empathetic and responsible journalist Ken Goodwin at ITV West and the regional BBC radio stations, all of whom have heeded my insistence that, whilst I am prepared to speak candidly about my eating disorder, I will not divulge specifics concerning weight or tips on how to excel at bulimia. Ultimately, the message should be positive.

In fact, just last week I took my Body Confidence Campaign to a school in Hertfordshire and was asked my a student what ‘diet’ I had gone on in my teens to drop such a significant amount of weight that my terror at regaining led me to bulimia and I made a point of refusing to tell her, and to explain why I was refusing to tell her.

However, scandal sells, and people are interested in two things: celebrities and extremes. At this moment in time I am neither. I was extremely bulimic, not that you would have been able to tell unless you were specifically seeking out the swollen glands, red raw knuckles, constant flu-like symptoms or mood swings which characterize the disease. And therein lies my point. The idea that an encyclopedic list of all the methods one can employ to fool doctors into believing you are recovering is in any way “raising awareness” for non eating disorder sufferers is utterly specious. Secretive habits surrounding eating disorders are exactly that: Secret. If they can be concealed from a doctor, your average GMTV viewer won’t have much better luck detecting them.

Having now fully recovered and being a healthy weight, I would be extremely taken aback if GMTV invited me onto their sofa to discuss my experiences, or indeed my ongoing campaign to prevent young people from following the same path as me. I’m simply not shocking enough in my current happy, fleshy, bosomy, feisty form. We do not see enough genuinely recovered people in the public eye and the message we are sending to current sufferers as a result is “this will haunt you forever”. Which is almost as soul-destroying as the fundamental message “there’s no point in trying to get better”. That, however, is hardly Nikki Grahame’s fault. My hat goes off to our Nikki for making the best she can of the circumstances she find herself in.

Eating disorders are consuming the lives people in the UK at a terrifying rate. Like anything dangerous, there is a responsibility to report it responsibly. Whilst I applaud GMTV for giving the issue air time, I do agree with Ilona that the interview could have had a detrimental affect on current sufferers. Would a self-harmer have been asked to explain exactly the ways and means they inflicted pain on themselves and how they concealed their cuts and bruises?

I want to open this one up to the floor, because it’s a debate which interests me immeasurably. Are you Team Ilona or Team Schophey?

So there you have it! I do believe that might have been my least rant-fuelled blog of all time. Could it be that the passing of my 29th birthday last month marked my passage into well reasoned and mature adulthood? Probably not. I’m sure something will inspire me onto my soapbox in the forthcoming weeks so stayed tuned!

To read my recent report for Flavour Magazine on Body Image, Eating Disorders and the Media, click http://viewer.zmags.com/publication/54bf6b67#/54bf6b67/10

'Just Tax the Stupid People!'

2010-05-11T07:06:00.000-07:00

So even in the midst of all this election madness, the brains responsible for implementing health policy have managed to make another spectacular gaff. It’s amazing they found the time, really – I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so full of abject despair.

The latest bright idea is to tax ‘bad’ foods, in the hope that the higher cost will see a decline in Britain’s much maligned obese population.

Upon closer inspection, the proposed foods for increased taxation include crème fresh, lurpak butter, full fat milk, strong cheddar and luxury biscuits. With the exception of the biscuits, all of these foods have significant nutritional value, providing essential protein and calcium – With full fat milk being just about the most nutritional thing you can consume (and, incidentally, a popular choice for a quick injection of (what’s the opposite of empty? Meaningful?) meaningful calories amongst recovering anorexics). Butter has long since been proven to be much better for you than margarine, which is chock-full of toxins and other nasties. And show me someone who consumes crème fresh on a daily basis and I’ll show you someone who can afford the added tax.

Of course, I’m not advocating a diet consisting solely of high-fat dairy produce, merely pointing out that these can be enjoyed in moderation as part of a balanced diet. As my friend Michelle, a registered nutritionist, points out “variety is the cornerstone of good nutrition”.

So it’s all the luxury biscuit’s fault! Of course! Why haven’t I noticed all the obese people frantically cramming in mouthfuls of luxury biscuits in the World? Bad, bad luxury biscuit!

In all seriousness, I don’t think we can justifiably place the blame for rising obesity levels on the luxury biscuit alone, so all we are left with are a lot of luxury biscuit consumers, ex-anorexics and people with any degree of common sense who are (understandably) more than a little hacked off.

As Michelle goes on to stress:

“It’s annoying how this is being framed as an ‘obesity’ issue. It’s actually a heart disease issue, which can be tied more directly to saturated fat consumption. And there’s no proof that a lower-fat diet will help people lose weight in the long-run, so the ‘obesity’ link is specious”.

What this essentially boils down to, once again, is the powers-that-be making a profit from our vices. Vices which we are positively encouraged to adopt by their self-righteous, condescending, whiney and generally irritating attitude in the first place.

Forbidden things are ‘cool’. Look at smoking. The incessant anti-smoking advertising, vile pictures on the packets depicting unsightly diseases and public place ban has done little to quell their consumption in anyone I know. In fact, it almost makes me want to take up smoking myself in an act of protest.

The attitude being generated is “tee hee, look at me, I’m exercising my freedom by jeopardizing my health. That’ll show those smothersome bore-bags in government”. It might be bonkers, but then emotions often are.

The general public are left in a situation where they are perpetually ricocheting between the binge-eating (which is now associated with pleasurable emotions of rebellion and ‘treating’ oneself) and the ‘starting their diets on Monday’ mentality (which of course the wealth of resources, DVDs, books and ‘diet’ foods will be more than happy to enable us to do). Low fat ‘diet’ foods, incidentally, are usually crammed to the rafters with sugar (and I don’t notice high-sugar foods being taxed, which is yet further evidence that the whole concept owes more to a concern for consumerism than for the health of the populous).

The answer is a combination of educating the public about the genuine nutritional value of foods (relatively easy) and increasing their self-esteem so that health becomes, crucially, more important than simply 'thinness' (mammoth task, which projects like Evolve, Body Gossip and the Winning Minds Body Confidence Programme are toiling constantly to bring to fruition). In the meantime, as my Mum would say, ‘use your noddle’.

On that note, I’d like to quote Absolutely Fabulous’ Edwina and propose a ‘Stupidity Tax’ - to be imposed upon all people who genuinely believe Kate Moss is healthier than Crystal Renn.

To hear more maniacal ranting from me on this thorny issue, tune into BBC Radio Essex tomorrow (Weds 12th May) at 11.30am, 95.3fm or click http://news.bbc.co.uk/local/essex/hi/.

Exciting Events in the Month of May!

2010-05-04T06:20:00.000-07:00

1. Lushh Event - Thursday 6th May 2010 - Stoke-on-Trent

Red carpet event - An evening of self-celebration for confident women featuring fun, frolics and cupcakes! It's free to go and will feature exhibits and guest speeches, including one from me on behalf of Body Gossip. Go to http://www.lushevent.co.uk/ for full deets.

2. Body Confidence Workshop in Association with Evolve Media, Tres Health and Winning Minds - 22nd May 2010 - Chelsea Bridge

This marvellous event will teach attendees the key to self esteem and unlocking their real beauty. Led by Mark Newey (aka my boss) with an introduction from yours truly.

Best news is, Evolve community members get a breathtaking discount - £25 down from £75 for the first workshop (and then £50 thereafter). On 10th May, if you're a member of Evolve Magazine on Facebook (just type Evolve into the search box and use your noddle, as my Mum would say) you will receive an email with a secret password to enable you to claim your discount when you book. Tickets are on a first come, first served basis.

http://www.treschelsea.com/ - here is the link to learn more about the rather gorgeous venue.

3. May issue of Flavour Magazine

Flavour Magazine is a free London culture magazine 'for the young and ambitious' available in various places throughout the capital and also online: http://www.flavourmag.co.uk/. Look out for the May issue which will feature a Double Page Spread on Body Confidence, featuring opinions from Mark Newey, Ruth 'Wonder Woman' Rogers (founder of Body Gossip) and Sam Thomas - founder of Men Get Eating Disorders Too (www.mengetedstoo.co.uk)

4. Tamanda Walker

Tam Walker sings lovely melodious pop/soul tunes that make your ears go "aaaaaaah". She is also annoyingly beautiful. But very lovely, so we forgive her. She is an ambassador for Body Gossip so we want her to become very famous, please.

Tamanda is currently in the Cordless Show competition - sign in/register and then click on the "vote" button http://www.cordless-show.com/view_profile.asp?member=dGFtd2Fsa2VybXVzaWNAZ21haWwuY29t

and finally.........

5. Assortment Dedicate and Other Groovy Things on 'The Culture Club', Reach FM

My fellow journo Karla Williams' and I are introducing our show, The Culture Club, on Sunday 9th May on Reach FM. The show will air at 11am and is then repeated at 8pm. There are TWO CHANCES to listen to there is NO EXCUSE not to tune in (none whatsoever. Nope. Not even that). This week features Assortment Dedicate, of whom I am a massive fan and think everyone else should be too (www.myspace.com/assortmentdedicate) and a theatre director with AMAZING chin dimples. Also the usual theatre/music/DVD reviews and generally Karla and me larking about in an amusing fashion.

Listen by tuning into 87.7fm or clicking http://www.ape-media.com/reachfm/

At Last Some Common Sense (Courtesy of CNN)

2010-04-13T03:10:00.000-07:00

Regular readers of my blog will have noted frequently my frustration and despair and the utterly ridiculous, BMI-based diagnosis criteria for eating disorders in this country. Anorexics who have lost half their body weight in less than six months have been casually dismissed, whilst bulimics who are a ‘normal’ weight (whatever this might turn out to actually mean) are frequently told that they do not ‘qualify’ as having an eating disorder (as if it’s some sort of severity competition. “Congratulations! You’re nearly dead!”).

We’ve created a situation where only those prepared to defy everything their warped mental state is compelling them to do and give a candid account of their most secret behaviour, or, of course, those who reach the ‘magic’ weight of 5 stone are being treated.

At an Amazonian 5 ft 11, my lowest ever weight as an anorexic during my teens was just under 8 stone (that was around the point when my lips and finger tips were constantly white/blue even indoors and my eyes were closing of their own accord) and as a bulimic it was 10 stone (around the point that my uni friends started taking me to one side and asking me if I had a life threatening illness). At neither of these points was I deemed to have an unhealthy BMI. The most perfunctory visual assessment would have concluded without doubt that there was something very wrong and yet my eating disorder continued to ravage my body unchecked, until several years later, when I finally began to get proactive about helping myself.

Official statistics show that around 30% of people will make a full recovery from an ED. The figure could and should be a great deal higher and it’s merely a question of catching them earlier, before the sufferer is so utterly embroiled in their issue they have literally lost the will to be live. What defines an eating disorder is mindset and behaviour and the apparent symptoms on the physical body are almost incidental. We know, for example, that one does not have to physically faint in the street from exhaustion, rupture one’s esophagus or cease menstruating in order to do considerable damage to one’s long term health and put oneself under significant psychological strain.

People with EDs tend to have fleeting pockets of time during their illness when they decide they want help. It doesn’t take much for this brief flash of inspiration to be altogether eclipsed by the omnipresent voice of their condition, which tells them their friends, their family, their doctors don’t understand and are just jealous anyway, at which point they’ll shrink back into their self-carved prison, in preparation for yet more weeks, months and years of torture. If we can grab people when they make their first foray into recovery and find a way to assess their condition with a little bit of common sense, we can save a lot of heartache, both for the sufferer and for their families.

I therefore breathed an audible sigh of relief when I read a paper published yesterday by CNN entitled “Anorexia and Bulimia definitions hinder treatment”. At last some common sense is being applied. Below are the edited highlights:

"Some insurance companies will only cover treatment for eating disorders if the patient meets all of the criteria outlined in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, a guidebook for diagnosing mental illnesses, doctors say. Patients who don't match all the symptoms, which include severe weight loss, are labeled "eating disorder not otherwise specified" (EDNOS) and sometimes don't qualify for the level of care they need……..

A new study, published in the journal Pediatrics, found more than 60 percent of patients with EDNOS met medical criteria for hospitalization and were, on average, sicker than patients diagnosed with full-blown bulimia.
EDNOS originally came about as a way of classifying people with dangerous eating behaviors and thoughts who didn't fully meet criteria for anorexia or bulimia, said Peebles.

But that means this single category can apply to an obese person who binges but doesn't purge, a severely underweight person who almost meets anorexia criteria but continues to menstruate, and a normal-weight individual who purges but doesn't binge, Keel said. For example, a person who regularly vomits after eating small amounts of food would fall under EDNOS, not bulimia.

"Some patients who are normal weight or even overweight are still very medically scary," Peebles said. "They are probably, I would expect, the highest risk to get missed in the community by either their physicians or their parents."
"We're seeing patients younger and younger, patients as young as 5," Peebles said. "Certainly 7 to 12 years of age, that's not uncommon to see anymore."

What kind of society believes it is in any way acceptable for EDs to be prevalent amongst 7 to 12 year olds? For the past twenty years, we have buried our heads in the sand, blaming the individual’s circumstances for what was deemed to be their private mental condition. Meanwhile as many as 1.2 million people in the UK continue to suffer (and that is, of course, 1.2 million diagnosed under the current, woefully inadequate diagnostic criteria, the actual figure is likely to be as high as twice that many) whilst we comfort ourselves with the notion that they must all have suffered significant trauma at the hands of someone who wasn’t us.

Is it a coincidence that the steep incline in EDs has mirrored the meteorological rise in celebrity worship culture, in the increasing availability of plastic surgery, the constant nagging temptation towards X factor style overnight fame and fortune which means that every young man or woman is now judged almost solely on aesthetics? We all condemn ourselves and others to suffer and we all have the responsibility for change. Take the first step today and go to www.bodygossip.org.

Spring is Here (and We've Got it Twisted)

2010-04-08T07:12:00.001-07:00

Ah, sunshine. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to have it’s soul-lightening warmth beating down on my (immensely grateful and vampirically pale) skin. I’m also, as I type, being terrorized by my first irritating wasp of the season. Yes, folks, it’s that time of year again. The Easter break, during which it is decreed by God Himself that we should spend, as a nation, a minimum of 48 hours sitting on our collective arses eating snacks shaped like baby wildlife (I can’t find the bit in the Bible where it actually says this but I’m sure it must be in there somewhere) is officially over and it’s time to repent our sugary sins.

The multi-billion pound “health” (please note inverted commas have been used for a reason) and fitness industry has two times of year when it uses all its marketing resources to shock and shame us into investing in their products and services. The first is post-Christmas. Every TV screen, billboard and magazine ad has been screaming at us to consume vast quantities of luxury food for months (the build-up now starts in August) and then, suddenly we are expected to snap into a disciplined and unsustainable routine of detox and cardio the moment the clock strikes midnight on December 31st. By January 5th, naturally, that’s all completely forgotten and we’re gorging on cut-price mince pies to compensate for the trauma of returning to our work routines after 2 weeks of lay-ins and watching re-runs of Only Fools and Horses all day.

Then, of course, come March (usually, although this year is not providing much empirical evidence for my musings) the sun makes it’s appearance and the marketing powers that be leap on the opportunity to exacerbate our natural “impending summer/flesh on show” fears. “Get Your Perfect Bikini Body in Six Weeks!” is actually code for “You Only Have Six Weeks until You’ll be Virtually Naked and Judged by Strangers!”

As I remarked to a Christian friend of mine the other day, I’m not sure that this perpetual and ever-momentum-gaining cycle of bingeing and deprivation in recognition of his birth/death is exactly what Jesus had in mind for the entire Western World. She told me to shut my heathen cake-hole, so probably the less said about that the better.

What is, however, abundantly clear (and considerably less controversial) is that we have our priorities twisted. Mark Newey (you’ll know him as Body Gossip's resident expert, I know his as ‘BossMan’) has helped hundreds of clients shed unwanted pounds over the years, by enabling them to stop focusing on what they eat. It might sound insane to say to someone with an overdeveloped fondness for food “now go away and eat whatever you want” but it works.

Diets are doomed to failure – Our minds naturally draw us towards whatever we think about most and we’re rebellious creatures, who tend to think most about the things we’re not allowed. Don’t think of a pink elephant. Don’t eat cheese. It’s all the same principle. Every time you fail to lose weight, or lose it and then become so crazed with starvation you cave in and gorge on cream cakes, having done irreversible damage to your metabolism, and pile it all back on again, this damages your self esteem. Dieting ultimately makes us feel rubbish about ourselves. And when you don’t value yourself, you could look like Angelina Jolie and still be dissatisfied with what you see in the mirror.

The key to long-term health and real beauty (I’m talking head-turning, birds fly into lampposts as persons of the opposite (or same, depending on preference) sex swoon in your path and make declarations of undying devotion beauty) is High Self Esteem. I know I harp on about it, but self-esteem can never be over valued. When we respect every aspect of ourselves, including our bodies, we naturally want to take care of ourselves.

The prevailing attitudes in our culture have created the illusion of an “all our nothing at all” mentality. We’re either glutinous sloths who eat nothing but KFC and drive ten meters to the corner shop or we’re maniacal health nuts who subside only on items purchased from Holland and Barratt and visit the gym on a daily basis. Of course, this doesn’t reflect reality. Contrary to what we might have been led to believe, (Daily Mail readers of a sensitive disposition might want to look away now) it is possible to be fat and healthy, just as it is possible to be fat and beautiful.

If you chose to lose weight, for acceptable reasons (not so that bloke down the Dog and Duck will fancy you, or because you want to emulate some plastic princess from the pages of Heat Magazine), then the simplest, fastest way to do it, is to love yourself just the way you are. Self esteem comes first and then weight loss, if viable and necessary, will naturally follow. Most of us have it entirely the wrong way round. Women everywhere are procrastinating, refraining from partaking in activities they enjoy, going for that promotion or on that date, for the sake of some (usually imagined) physical imperfection. “When I’m skinny/toned/whatever” they think “then I’ll get on with my life”. It would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic.

That’s why I’m so proud to be an in-house journalist for Evolve Magazine, aimed at women size 14 and over. Evolve are hosting a Full Figured Funk workshop on 22nd May in Central London (because “you’re never too chunky to get funky”), self esteem workshops in association with Winning Minds this summer and are currently recruiting a bevy of plus-size beauties for their modeling agency. Email me at Natasha@evolve-magazine.com if you want further info about any of the above and in the meantime remember the Evolve motto: Be proud, be you!

Body Gossip: The Triumph of Talent over T*ts!

2010-03-23T05:04:00.000-07:00

“So what do you do, then?”

It should be a simple question to respond to and yet I still haven’t found a brief sentence which encapsulates what it is exactly that I “do”. In this instance, the query has been posed by a middle aged cabby, who is only asking to make polite conversation as he drives me to the train station, which makes it all the more awkward. I mumble something about helping people with eating disorders. He gives a typically simplistic summary of what he understands anorexia to be: “That’s when you think you’re a lot bigger that what you are, so you don’t eat, isn’t it?”. In these situations, I’m always torn between my desire to enlighten and my desire to not hop straight on my oh-so-inevitable soap box and scare this poor, unsuspecting man to death (particularly not while he is driving).

I’ve had this conversation what seems like a thousand times, with a thousand different people, most of whom have been men in the 40s and 50s who believe that eating disorders are the remit of vain and disillusioned teenage girls. It’s hardly their fault that they think this way, the eating disordered mind is an impenetrable maze of illogical nonsense to anyone who hasn’t had first-hand experience of it, or isn’t a mind-expert. The problem is that the same conclusion is always drawn: That women starve themselves under the misguided notion that it’ll make them more attractive to men.

This isn’t just reductive, it’s wrong. Perhaps, up until the age of about, let’s say, 16, when you live your life vicariously through the characters in Hollyoaks and all the boys you know think lolly-pop headed pop-stars are a paradigm of gorgeousness, you might buy into the thin = attractive fantasy. But take the time to ask any bloke you know who isn’t blinded by media stereotypes and adolescent stupidity what he finds sexy and you’ll find his answers rarely have anything to do with size. Nice eyes/smile will invariably top the list, along with the old chestnut – sense of humour (loosely translated as laughing at his jokes). Press them for more specific detail, and you’ll find there are as many variations on what men consider attractive as there are men. Thank goodness, otherwise there would be an awful lot of us out there ready to explode with sexual frustration.

Whilst some men prefer petite and slender and others prefer robust and curvaceous, they all (with the exception of a few nutters who shouldn’t be considered for dating and general merriment anyway) want us to be healthy and happy.

I think most women are aware of this, but it’s an unfortunate fact that most of us simply don’t care. Yes, lads, your opinion isn’t as important to us as you might think - Which is why when you cheerfully tell us that “men like something to grab hold of, anyway”, we don’t immediately skip home and gleefully throw away all our Ryvitas and exercise DVDs. Same goes for boobs jobs and fake tans - Men have made it abundantly clear they aren't fans - And yet this does nothing to diminish their popularity amongst women.

Women want to be thin because of what thinness has come to represent: Wealth, power, popularity, fame – Lifestyle. Extreme skinniness is perceived to be reserved for celebrities, and in a society where 60% of 12 year old girls want to be a celebrity, it naturally follows that they will also want to be thin. This warped logic haunts us all the way into our adulthoods. Think of all the women you know who are putting their life on hold until they reach an elusive “perfect” weight – It’s because they don’t feel they deserve to achieve until they fit an aesthetic which matches the success they crave. And while the celebrity machine is churning out one talentless, emaciated human clothes hanger after another and showcasing the wildly disproportionate amounts of adoration and money which are thrown at them, women everywhere will continue to try and emulate that look.

Ruth Rogers, the brilliant, incredibly talented and thoroughly lovely woman who founded Body Gossip, was once told she’d have to lose weight to make it as an actress. She is, and always has been, a slender and healthy 5 ft 8 and a size 10. Fortunately, she is now starring in the critically acclaimed and hugely successful War Horse in the West End, which is a metaphorical two-fingers to whichever morons tried to make her buy into that belief. One of the aims of Body Gossip is to get real bodies into the public eye – To give real people the voice they deserve and to get real talent recognized. We desperately need to heed this message.

Until we start valuing talent, intelligence and compassion over washboard abs and pneumatic curves, the average girl could have a million men bellowing “you’re gorgeous!!” at her and still feel like an inadequate failure. That’s the reality right now for women in today’s society – but it can change – go to www.bodygossip.org.

Monday Morning Rant

2010-03-15T04:23:00.000-07:00

I had what can only be described as a magnificent Sunday yesterday. It started with three sausages and finished watching Eddie Izzard: Marathon Man on TV with an almost unbearably cute puppy fast-asleep on my right leg. In between my Mum and I drank copious amounts of Chablis and put the world to rights.

Yes, sometimes I eat sausages and drink alcohol. Shocking I know. However yesterday was Mother’s Day and if you can’t get squiffy with your Mum and eat anything she proffers in your direction on Mothering Sunday then just when can you? However, 6 days out of 7 I’m happily munching on at least 5 fruit and veg’s per day and walking absolutely everywhere.

As such, despite being a size 16 and, I have no doubt, technically “obese” according to the evil BMI charts of wrongness (not that I would ever submit myself to be judged by such criteria), I can confidently assert that I’m a better role model for young women than any of Girls Aloud. This opinion was backed up today by the Daily Mail Online, who seem to have momentarily (and rather refreshingly) spared us all their usual penchant for unforgiving body fascism and deigned to concede that, just perhaps, Nadine Coyle and Cheryl Cole might be a tad too thin (although I did notice they couldn’t resist mentioning the “obesity crisis” once. Old habits die hard).

I need to clarify my stance – Since during my recent visit to a high school in Walsall, I stated that I did not particularly think Cheryl Cole was anything to aspire to and was greeted by gasps of disbelief and 16 year old girls frantically fanning themselves and swooning with shock left, right and centre (almost. Although, interestingly, at the University everyone agreed with me so I suppose CC worship might just be a fleeting right-of-passage style phase all young women are currently destined to go through). To be absolutely clear: I do not hate Cheryl Cole. I don’t hate any of Girls Aloud band members, particularly (I reserve that strength of emotion for people who deserve something more than my nonchalance). What I object to are the unseen external forces they have clearly been subjected to which have forced them to conform to the “never too rich or skinny” prototype. I hate what they represent. They are, without a shadow of a doubt bad role models, but this isn’t necessarily their fault.

Liz Jones, the Mail Online journo was absolutely right when she said “alongside No. 1 singles and sell-out concerts comes responsibility” however, it’s the industry generally which needs to acknowledge that responsibility not these poor, shrinking, malnourished girls who are merely pawns in a much larger, more sinister machine.

Furthermore, pointing the finger at any celebrity and accusing them of perpetuating anorexia is not only reductive, it’s willfully missing the point – We cannot keep placing sticking plasters over something which is a much wider issue in a society which has its priorities all wrong. After all, if we didn’t heap such utterly disproportionate amounts of adulation, wealth and fame on people whose talents are limited to miming and being a human coat hanger, then would it really matter how thin they were?

In my capacity as a Body Confidence campaigner working with young people, I’ve noticed that girls want to be thin, not because they equate thinness with beauty, but because they see it as a fast track to all the success, wealth and love that they crave. In a climate where many of them come from broken homes and even more are destined to be unemployed, even if they do achieve the qualifications which they are told are the be-all-and-end-all, who can blame them for searching for a more instantly gratuitous track to everything they have been missing?

Performers usually crave fame because they are emotionally unstable to begin with, for whatever reason – It might be a cliché but it’s also usually true. Most creative people will admit that their talent was born out of some sort of personal tragedy, usually in their childhood, which left them feeling undervalued – “Applause fills the hole in my soul” as Krusty the Clown said on The Simpsons. People who feel invisible, insecure, unappreciated and unlovable also tend to be prime candidates for eating disorders. The two things go hand in hand. Rather than berating celebrities for something which is their natural tendency why don’t we 1) give them the help they need and 2) stop looking to them for diet and lifestyle tips? After all, they are singers, models, WAGs and IT girls, not nutrition, style or fitness experts. When we relegate our entertainers to the correct pecking order, in the scheme of life (i.e. below, rather than above, Nobel peace prize winners, scientists, philosophers, scholars, soldiers, nurses etc), young people will stop trying to emulate them. Simples.

To read the Daily Mail article click: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1257927/Girls-Aloud-Britains-successful-girl-band--suddenly-skinniest-too.html#ixzz0iEzCXk7t

On the delightful, sun-filled train journey to the picturesque little village which is home to my parents, I saw a woman who absolutely fascinated me.

She must have been in her 70s, with a wizened little face and an extremely frail frame, although she was nicely dressed in a waist cinching number and court shoes. Either her hairdresser was a magician, or she was wearing a wig – A voluminous, shiny affair, with a high crown and cascading ringlets in various colours falling to just below her shoulders. Think Dot Cotton with Dolly Parton’s barnet. Luckily, I was wearing sunglasses, which allowed me to feed my fascination by staring at her like David Attenborough observing a beetle for the best part of the 15 minute journey.

I guessed that she had been very attractive back in her heyday and that she had learned the art of makeup artistry in the 1960s, failing to adapt it since. I watched as she applied a heavy, very pale foundation, several layers of black and grey eye-shadow and heavy handedly began lining her lips with a neural shade. The result was horrific, in a kind of can’t-tear-my-eyes-away type way. This, I thought to myself, is what happens when women refuse to acknowledge the ageing process.

The prevailing social attitude of “youth = beauty” is symptomatic of exactly the same phenomenon which encourages young women so starve themselves right back to child-like proportions. Projects like Body Gossip are working to introduce more diversity into the beauty spectrum – but that isn’t limited to body shapes, it also extends to races and ages we aren’t used to seeing in the public eye. That’s why my delight at the above Daily Mail article was somewhat tarnished when I subsequently clicked on this one:

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1257962/The-future-face-40-Botox-fillers-high-tech-face-creams-mean-Big-Four-0-doesnt-look-like-used-to.html

Brumantics (Adventures in the West Midlands)

2010-03-12T08:31:00.000-08:00

This month, my quest to mould the young minds of Britain took me to the West Midlands, home of Jasper Carrot and Kerrang Radio (which was enough to make me warm to the place).

My experience of Birmingham up until that point had been limited to two distinct and different situations – Seeing the grim edifices of grey buildings speeding by as a passenger in my mother’s car on my way to Aberystwyth University (with all my worldly possessions in the boot) and partying with my friend, let’s call her Melissa (a glamour model who often wears outfits which appear to be made entirely of cling-film). I’d experienced Birmingham as a city which looks bleak on the surface, but whose façade hides a thriving, thrusting culture of night life – gigs, clubs, after-clubs, after-the-after clubs – Melissa and I had been known to perplex her then-boyfriend by staying out in Brum for the best part of 60 hours (I suspect the cling-film mini-dresses played some role in the various invitations to underground establishments).

In short, I had no idea what West Midland inhabitants under the age of 18 who were awake during the day and slept at night would be like, but on Wednesday 9th March I took the campaign to a local secondary school and found out. Turns out, they’re pretty much like all the other students I’ve encountered on my UK tour – Bright, sweet, but lacking in self esteem.

The more of the country’s young people I encounter, the more I realise I am right when I assert that lack of body confidence is a country-wide phenomenon. A fundamental lack of confidence which manifests itself in negative body image does not discriminate by location, class, race or gender. When I see what Mark would call “the light bulbs going off” i.e. my audience relating to what I am saying about how we all feel as though we aren’t good enough most of the time, half of me is relieved and the other is full of dismay on their behalf – I’m yet to meet a young person who is nonchalant about their body.

On Thursday I was lucky enough to visit Birmingham University and meet the fantastically beautiful, personable and dynamic Women’s Officer, Esther Akinnuwah, who had invited me there. Call me easily impressed, but I loved the Brum Uni S.U. From the outside it has an archaic kind of grandeur, but there’s a bit in the centre which reminds me of the inside of a space shuttle (not that I’ve ever been in one, you understand) and is a hive of activity, housing a little shop and a Subway (place where they make sandwiches as opposed to underground train system – Now that would be impressive).

Everyone has a “mental age” and I’m pretty sure that I stopped maturing emotionally at University. I haven’t really changed essentially since then, other than my penchant for drinking wine that costs more than £2 a bottle (not much more, mind) and the fact that I’ll no longer subject my mini-skirt clad bare legs to temperatures below 20 degrees c (how we ever walked along the seafront clad in the skimpiest of garb battling gale force winds and torrential rain, midwinter, and simultaneously managing to eat a kebab I shall never know). There is something tangible in the air at Universities – It’s an enthusiasm, a thirst for knowledge (not just academic knowledge, but just for knowing stuff about people, about life) – It’s full of people who haven’t yet had all their spirit squished out of them by the realities of adult life. I bloody love it.

I realised on the train coming home why they call it “luggage” – It’s indicative of all the energy you’re going to expend having to “lug” it around. The noise I made when my bottom finally hit my familiar sofa back home was undeniably sexual (a bit like when Monica takes “the” agonizingly painful boots off in Friends). Again, I’m cream crackered but, again, it was well worth the trip.

Thanks, Brum, for having me.

Also this week: The Herts & Essex Observer were kind enough to print a piece on my recent trip to Bishop’s Stortford High (accompanied by a photo of me doing something a little peculiar with my right hand – It’s a sort of Sybil Fawlty saying “oooh I know” style gesture), Body Gossip launched an official web page for the education campaign (hurrah! Go to www.bodygossip.org/schools) and an article I wrote in January for Hub Magazine hit the shelves. To see the online version, go to http://www.hubmagazine-sw.co.uk/src/HUB_Spring_2010.html and cyber-flick to page 10.

Body Gossip's Newest Recruits

2010-03-08T09:01:00.000-08:00

Giving an accurate first impression of who you are when presenting yourself in an intimate setting is nothing compared with the task of crafting your stage persona. Take it from someone who winged it and consistently got it very, very wrong.

During my time as my singer-songwriter alterego Mis-Dee, my concern lay entirely with how on earth I was going to hit the correct notes when my throat had been damaged irreparably by the constant scratching of fingers nails, or a toothbrush, or a biro. As far as the parts when it was required of me to speak between songs, I simply thought it was enough to be “me but more”.

Unfortunately, “me but more” didn’t portray herself as particularly nice. My friends actively disliked Mis-Dee and Mis-Dee’s friends were people I disliked as soon as I dismounted the stage. Natasha can be a little sarcastic. Mis-Dee was harsh and sometimes verged on cruel. Natasha is proud of her curves. Mis-Dee gave the impression of vanity. Natasha tends to mask difficult or nerve-wracking situations with humour. Mis-Dee made people believe she didn’t give a shit.

The problem was, of course, that it wasn’t Mis-Dee reading the critics’ comments, it was me. Having to read that I was “fat” and “up myself” and had “no humility” took a heavy emotional toll. Especially as these observations were at the expense of anyone even referring to the notes and harmonies I had laboured so hard to perfect.

The music industry is not an environment someone with an eating disorder should ever be subjected to, when healthier people than I was have been reduced to shadows of themselves by the harsh scrutiny to which their bodies were subjected. I could never have been accepted by the media, or by society as Mis-Dee, especially as I couldn’t accept myself.

I do miss some aspects of the music industry, however. As dedicated as I am to the work I do now, there are days when I yearn for the tangible excitement of a live gig, or to be surrounded by people who really understand music, because they live and breathe it, they create it, they are part of it and it is part of them. That’s why I was so happy to be offered the position of music journalist for brand-spanking new magazine Evolve (dedicated to plus-size fashion and whose tag line is “Be Proud: Be You”).

Life, feeling kind, had offered me the opportunity to indulge my passion for music, without embroiling myself in my old life, or having to sacrifice my new one.

It was in this capacity that I was lucky enough to meet Divine Unity, an uber-talented trio of vocalists from London, currently performing on Sundays at Charlotte Street Blues.

I’m in awe of two things about these three ladies – Firstly, their amazing vocal prowess (see my review in Catch-a-Vibe online magazine on 16th March for a more in-depth review) and secondly, their ability to be exactly the same both on and off stage. They are somehow able to convey all their innate loveliness, enthusiasm and contentment in their own skins in their stage personas, an art which I was never able to master myself.

Divine Unity are everything I like about people – they have personality and spirit without being bossy or overbearing. They are feisty but not fierce. They are lovely without being insipid. They radiate youth and health without being preppy and irritating.

They’re also a rare breed in the music industry. We are used to extremes: the insufferably pretentious or the unbearable self-deprecating. We have Lady Gaga parading around in her pants in the red corner and Leona Lewis apologizing for existing in the blue. We have Christina Aguilera ensuring that all attention is diverted from her talent to her mammarys on one hand and Katie Melua in a floor length potato sack pretending sex doesn’t exist on the other.

Divine Unity have great bodies and they wear fashion forward, funky clothes. They somehow manage to tread the wafer-thin line between being proud of your physique and prostituting it. Interviewing them off stage, they talked about self-respect and setting a good example to younger girls. It was then knew they had to become part of Body Gossip. Divine Unity represent everything Body Gossip is about – Confidence, love and respect

Fantaz-magorically, just one short week later, Body Gossip is proud and delighted to have Divine Unity on board with its campaign. Go to www.bodygossip.org/blog to read more about these remarkable ladies.

Why it's not Enough to be "In Recovery"

2010-03-02T04:22:00.000-08:00

Ever have one of those moments where something comes out of your mouth before you can stop it and then immediately afterwards you think “why did I say that?”. I had one such moment last week whilst being interviewed live on BBC Radio Three Counties. I heard myself say: “I have been in recovery for two years”.

During the course of my research, I must have encountered the phrase “in recovery” a thousand times and that’s the only explanation I can give for my verbal slip.

The truth is, I am not “in recovery” …….. I am cured. This is an absolutely crucial distinction.

I have been “in recovery” many times during my decade long tussle with bulimia nervosa. I used CBT, counseling, psychotherapy and antidepressants and successfully managed to stop myself from bingeing and purging for periods of up to a month at a time. I was encouraged to keep food diaries and record my emotions every time I ate, to put my knife and fork down between each mouthful to slow down my eating and help me register when I was full, to present my food nicely so that it was then “a shame” to throw it up – The emphasis was exclusively on my eating habits.

The ultimate result was the day I missed all my university lectures because I spent five hours of my life sitting in my room in halls staring at a chicken bagel.

On that day, back in 2002, I’d spent ages making myself that sodding bagel. It had light mayo and paprika and carefully arranged salad vegetables. I’d toasted the bagel gently and arranged the chicken in perfectly symmetrical slices, all as per instructions. Then, I put it on the nearest approximation I had to a posh plate back in my student days (using a plate at all was quite novel for me then), with a folded piece of kitchen roll masquerading as a napkin. I’d been told not to do anything else whilst eating which might distract me from the signals of fullness my stomach was giving me (the fact that my stomach had completely lost it’s ability to produce these signals by that point was apparently not taken into consideration). So I put my laptop to one side and placed my chicken bagel on my desk and sat down.

What followed was like a Mexican stand off between two completely different characters, both resident in my poor, overwrought mind. I stared at the chicken bagel, rendered almost totally inanimate by all the turmoil in my brain.

“Natasha 1” wanted to eat the chicken bagel and to savour every mouthful, to chew slowly and taste all the different flavours and then, feeling pleasantly satisfied, to get on with her day. “Natasha 2” was screaming at me to throw the bagel away, or, if I absolutely had to have it, I’d have to vomit afterwards and, since I was going to vomit anyway, I might as well follow my chicken bagel with a packet of biscuits and a tub of icecream. About an hour into the sitting and staring, this third character popped up – I had no idea who she was, we’d never met before. “Natasha 3” was telling me to stand up and turn my back on the chicken bagel. Natasha 3 wanted me to have the willpower to walk away from this insignificant thing which was holding me captive. Natasha 3 didn’t want me to be a prisoner and she wanted me to demonstrate my freedom not by throwing the bagel in the bin but by knowing it was still there, still edible, still delicious and that I could have it any time I wanted and therefore it was ok to turn away from it.

I liked Natasha 3. I could see her argument. Unfortunately she was outnumbered two to one. I stood up and sat straight back down a few times in deference to Natasha 3’s suggestion. And then went back to my staring.

At some stage it got dark and my mind became weary of all this internal struggle. I ate the chicken bagel and then I went to the supermarket and bought some other things and ate them too and then I vomited until I burst a blood vessel in my right eye. I vomited with extra force and vigour, to punish myself for chicken bagel-gate.

When I evoke an image of what it means to be “in recovery”, I picture myself sitting staring at a chicken bagel. For those five hours I didn’t binge and I didn’t purge. Technically, I wasn’t bulimic that day (if you discount what happened in the night time). Yet still there was this huge internal struggle, still food was an all-encompassing obsession and I still hated myself for wanting the bagel and for not being able to eat it in the way I thought I should.

The phrase “in recovery” implies that the issue is still present, that fighting it will be a daily struggle and that it’s an ongoing and lengthy process. It suggests that, whilst the behaviour might change, the emotions will remain. For anyone who suffers from an eating disorder, this is an unspeakably depressing prospect and yet it is a myth which continues to be perpetuated by many traditional eating disorder therapies.

That’s why at Winning Minds we take the focus away from food. We help our clients to rediscover who they are and break free from the shackles of their eating disorder by shedding the identity of their issue.

Whilst writing this blog I became aware of a slight rumbling in my stomach. I went to the fridge and retrieved two plums. I ate those two plums and they were delicious. Now I don’t feel hungry any more and can continue with my day. That is what it means to be cured.

ITV News Feature

2010-02-27T07:12:00.001-08:00

To see the feature which appeared yesterday (26th Feb) on ITV News go to:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IGWeYYpwot8

To piece features my recent visit to Gloucestershire College to teach body confidence.

Eating Disorders Awareness Week 2010

2010-02-24T10:26:00.000-08:00

To coin a phrase frequently repeated by anyone who works long hours – “It’s only halfway through the week and I’m knackered already!”. This week is passing in a blur of radio and press interviews and of discovering yet more people dedicated to promoting change and stamping out the growing trend for eating disorders – Hoorah!

I was delighted to see Sam Thomas’ campaign “Men Get Eating Disorders Too” (http://www.mengetedstoo.co.uk/) receive some well deserved press-coverage, including a feature in the Daily Mirror (go Sam!).

Sam and I were both lucky enough to be interviewed by Jenny "Loveliness Personified" Barnett on LBC on Thursday 25th February about what has been termed by the media as the "Manorexia Epidemic". (I'm not sure how comfortable I am with this term - It's like "guyliner" - Surely eyeliner is for men and women so why do men need an entirely different word?)

It’s my observation that young men and women represent two opposite extremes when it comes to addressing the issues of relationships towards food and body image. Girls incessantly overanalyze, constantly scrutinizing their own diet and body shape as well as those of their peers. Whilst these topics tend to come up frequently in conversations amongst females, it often means that the dangerous thought-processes and destructive habits which can lead to eating disorders are normalized and excused. Their male counterparts, conversely, are desperate to maintain a façade of casual disregard for all body-related issues and this constant quest for bravado means that problems fester silently and have to become sufficiently severe before they can be recognized. Sam’s campaign, which aims to ensure that eating disorders amongst men are treated with equal gravitas as those in women, will go some way to redressing this imbalance and that is why we support it at Winning Minds, where we have seen many male clients who feel trapped by their own silent self-loathing and harmful eating habits.

Ilona Burton, ex anorexia and bulimia sufferer and now an ambassador for B-eat, is another person who is passionate about tackling misconceptions and prejudices so often applied in the Eating Disorder sphere. This week, she has been working with the local press, Radio 1's Newsbeat and Channel M, sending out the vital message that, contrary to popular belief, eating disorders aren't the curse automatically associated with being a white, middle class female. There is no common component uniting sufferers, and no one is genetically or socially more predisposed to an eating disorder - They can strike anyone regardless of race, class or gender. Ilona writes a blog for The Independent, which aims to educate families and friends of eating disorder sufferers. Which you can read at: www.independent.co.uk/catherineib

The official National Eating Disorders Awareness Week site defines this week as “a collective effort of primarily volunteers, eating disorder professionals, health care providers, educators, social workers, and individuals committed to raising awareness of the dangers surrounding eating disorders and the need for early intervention and treatment”. With this in mind, Mark and I have been talking ourselves hoarse to anyone who will listen about the causes of eating disorders and how we can actively encourage change, on both a personal and sociological level. We have even recorded a CD called “Understanding Eating Disorders” which features Mark offering various pearls of wisdom during a question-and-answer session and is designed both for sufferers and the people around them who might be struggling to understand their mentality and behaviour. You can find out more about the CD by going to www.winningminds.co.uk/self-help-tools/.

Heart FM, being the wonderful starlets of social awareness they are, interviewed me not once, not twice, but thrice, for their stations in Essex, Gloucester and the West Midlands. I later found out that this also meant clips were featured during the hourly news bulletins on 1017fm, which is listened to by pretty-much all of my Essex based friends, who then proceeded to phone me in various states of hysteria – “babe! You’re, like, famous! And everything!”. Meanwhile, Lorna Milton of BBC Three Counties asked questions which allowed me to remember why I started all this campaigning malarkey in the first place – To make a noise about the often dismissed and overlooked issue of bulimia nervosa, which is neither as ostensibly shocking, nor as glamorous, as the much-hyped anorexia. Dave Monk at BBC Essex then very patiently allowed me to rant maniacally, often to comic effect, about Botox, why designers who find themselves unable to make plus size models look fabulous in their creations are not very good at their job and why the Lynx advert should be banned for its laughably blatant attempts at manipulation of the entire male populous.

ITV West will air their piece on my body confidence campaign (in association with Body Gossip) on Friday – Which features the lovely students of Gloucestershire College giving their verdict on my attempts to make them realise there’s more to life than expending all your energy attempting to fit the identikit celebrity aesthetic, and (with any luck) making some equally lovely comments.

With all this frantic awareness-raising, advice-giving, campaign-mongering and general rant-age, one would have thought the message would be clear. However, to my dismay (and when I say dismay, what I actually mean is me stomping into Mark’s office, shoving a newspaper cutting under his nose and saying “I’m livid, I am!”), there have been several pieces in the national press which proffer a ludicrous line of logic, which can be summarized as: “Why are we all focusing on eating disorders so much, when obesity is the real problem in this country?”. You may read my response to one such journalist in my blog below but, before you do, bear in mind it was written almost solely by my inner bitch. My inner bitch is a flamboyantly camp, flame haired drag queen, who has just been spurned by his boyfriend for a much younger man and wants to take it out on the world. You have been warned.

I have two points to make on the warped reasoning of these articles:

1. Compulsive overeating, to which a large proportion of severe obesity can be attributed, IS an eating disorder and has the same common root as anorexia or bulimia – Low Self Esteem.

2. Shockingly, a viable solution to the so-called obesity crisis in this country would NOT be anorexia.

As for the majority of people in Great Britain, who are a little above their ideal BMI and are perpetually being told so by health professionals, the media and the generally self-righteous: How anyone could believe that torturing oneself relentlessly both mentally and physically is in any way preferable to having a muffin top, is beyond my comprehension. Whatever the general state of the majority population, eating disorders are an increasing and terrifying problem and will continue to be so unless there is a fundamental change in attitudes - Including, but not restricted to, ceasing to deflect the issue by talking about the obesity crisis whenever our attention is drawn to the uncomfortable realm of EDs.

The above are the views I expressed on Talk Sport, in the wee small hours of Monday morning. (The sleep deprivation was worth it to be welcomed into the bosom of the UK's no1 commercial radio station.) I was commenting on the story of 5 year old Lucy Jones, who was sent home from school with a note from her PCT, stating that she is overweight and therefore at increased risk of cancer and heart disease. Closer investigation revealed she was just 1% over her "ideal" BMI, although such investigation was unnecessary since anyone who took a few miliseconds to glance at her with their eyes would realise that she is far from overweight and perfectly healthy. Let's hope she continues to be so, despite the damage that this incident has no doubt inflicted upon her fragile, infant self esteem. If people are searching for the reason behind the steady incline in eating disorders over the past decade, and why they are affecting younger and younger people, I think we need look no further.

Reply to Lisa Hilton "So What If I'm Skinny?" - Saturday Times 13th February 2010

2010-02-21T04:38:00.001-08:00

For someone who repeatedly makes a point of branding herself a “feminist” and insisiting that she has more intelligence than to entertain thoughts of low self esteem because she will never fit the supermodel aesthetic, Lisa Hilton aint half stupid.

After reading her ludicrously entitled “so what if I’m skinny?” (so what indeed)– A 2,000 word manifesto of hatred, railing pointlessly against all the overweight people who delusionally believe that eating disorders are a problem more worthy of note than obesity, I hardly know where to begin. I will, however, make some attempt to address her wilful misunderstanding of the facts, not because I believe for one second that she wasn’t trying to be deliberately inflammatory, but because people who have not had or treated eating disorders should not be allowed to write about them, as this piece so aptfully demonstrates.

Hilton’s opinions seem to hinge crucially on the idea that people are overweight because they have been terrified by the media into not having an eating disoder. As if we think “I simply must by a bucket of KFC, otherwise I might, God forbid, become anorexic”...... And then she has the audacity to accuse people who don’t realise they will never look like your average celeb of being “stupid”.

She makes a comparison between models and jockeys, both of whom regularly starve themselves for long periods, take duiretics and laxatives and make themselves vomit because their career hinges on it, and asks why we are not insisting on the use of bigger horse riders? I can answer that one for your straight away, love. It’s because 8 out of 10 teenagers between the ages of 11 and 19 do not want to be jockeys. No, they want desperately to emulate one of the two Kate’s – Moss or Price. It’s because we do not heap disproportionate adulation and wealth on jockeys, we understand that their talents are limited to the equine. We do not have jockeys in glossy magazines offering us diet and lifestyle tips. We do not allow jockeys to design our clothes and fragrances. I have yet to glance at a que of revellers outside a London nightclub and see 90% of the young women dressed like jockeys. Need I continue?

Predictably, the obesity stats come out to play – Yes, we are all getting fatter and of this we are all painfully aware, thanks. Apparently, the fact that the chasm is growing ever wider between the average woman and her catwalk counterpart is not because models are getting thinner, it’s because we are getting fatter. I’d argue that it’s both. When Kate Moss first came on the scene in the 90s, she was considered shockingly skinny. Now, she would barely register as thin – Size 6 became the new 8, 4 the new 6, 2 the new 4, until models of 6 foot were aspiring to be a size 00 and, in 2007, 5 prominent high fashion models died of complications associated with malnutrition and starvation. Models are, undoubtedly getting thinner. And whether or not we might deign to agree with the fact that the non-modelling populus are becoming larger, the fact is that models are there to showcase the clothes that we will ultimately buy in the high street and, as such, should be more representative of what real people actually look like.

What Hilton fails to recognise is that obesity, of the type which results from overeating, is symptomatic of the exact same core factors as anorexic or bulimia. Lack of regard for one’s long-term health, lack of education and low self esteem. Hilton seems to be labouring under the misconception that overweight people are unaware of their state –As if they haven’t been instilled with feelings of self hatred and guilt by their peers and the incessant media coverage which will, ironically, probaly have them reaching for the biscuit tin. She fails to see the bigger picture, she, just like our government, is concerned only with symptoms, not causes.

As someone with first hand experience of an eating disorder, and who has discussed the issue, not only with other sufferers, but with 11-21 year olds throughout the UK, I have come to the conclusion that most disordered eating and lack of body confidence (resulting in anorexia, bulimia, negative body image, body dysmorphia, compulsive eating and, yes, obesity) can be traced back to three common factors. These are:

1. The patient’s private emotional history, which often involves bullying, turbulence and/or abuse.
2. Addiction/Habit – A seemingly inpenitrable cycle of bingeing and/or purging or starvation.
3. Peer and Media Pressure to fit a certain aesthetic, which is inextricably linked with how we measure success.

Hilton argues that it is overly simplistic to put eating disorders down solely to unrealistic role models and what she terms “vanity” and she is of course right, but dismissing it altogether as a contributing factor is just as irresponsible.

At school, young people develop the idea that, if they are not academically bright, the only other way to achieve success is to fit the celebrity or model mould, and they’ll go to whatever dangerous lengths necessary to achieve this. Far from Hilton’s assertion that a “couple of years” of starving onesself is a small price to pay for success – At these crucial stages of development it can have a disasterous effect on long-term health. Osteroporosis and lack of fertility are just two of the things young people are inflicting upon themselves, but apparently that’s ok, because according to Hilton that is the feminist and empowering way to go about things.

Far from being delusional or “vain”, these girls are simply victims of their own unconscious mind. Bombarded from every angle with messages, advertising and images specifically designed to make them feel insecure, they have taken on programming in their much larger unconscious minds (which accounts for 91%, whilst the conscious mind is only 9%), which constantly tells them that thinness is the fast track to happiness. Suggesting that we can dismiss this powerful programme of insecurity with the 9% which tells us we don’t have the build, time, resources or cash to look like a catwalk model or a celebrity is like telling someone to “snap out” of an eating disorder. The fact that the majority of women feel as though they are not good enough and that they need desperately to make their bodies fit an implausible mould does not make them stupid and it does not mean they are not feminists, it simply means that their self-esteem has been pummelled in a very calculating way since the day they were born. Similarly, overeating is often caused by feelings of inadequacy arising from the exact same phenomenon, or from being made to feel like you are single handedly responsible for all evil in society because you do not conform to the “ideal” BMI.

The problem is, naturally, the fact that we worship celebrities at all, when they’ve done little to deserve it. As Ricky Gervais recently pointed out, those toiling 16 hours a day in a lab somewhere trying to find a cure for cancer are anonymous, and yet we hold up those whose job it is to traipse up and down a catwalk or lip synch badly to their own, creatively questionable songs (not that I’m referring to anyone’s recent BRIT awards performance, specifically, you understand), as heroes. However, this won’t change any time soon. We have to work within the parameters of how the world works if we want to provoke change and, for the moment, our responsbility is to ensure that perceived health is the new black, when it comes to the fashion and media industries.

I did have to chuckle when Hilton, who is self-righteously proud of her athletic build, states that her not having the “discipline” to be an anorexic, is probably the reason why she was never a model. As if being tall and thin are the only criteria it takes to enter the professon. My assertion that models shouldnt automatically be role models is in no way designed to detract from the fact that modelling requires skill and is a craft. You could be six foot and a size 8, but if you dont have the right shape and walk around like a Russian shot putter with a water infection, then you’re just not model material. A model’s job is to make clothes look good, simple as that, which he or she does with a combination of grace, deportment and the ability to be photogenic. These are not qualities which are restricted to the realm of size 0. As Hilton herself points out, beauty comes in all sorts of guises, and a size 12, 14 or, dare I say it, 16 person can possess the necessary qualities for modelling. In particular, the ability to convey a potent message or a specific emotion through a lens is crucial. I would therefore suggest that the reason Hilton never entered the high fashion sphere has less to do with her inability to starve herself and more with the fact that in the photo which accompanied this article, which was clearly designed to make her look thoughtful, intelligent and defiant, she looks more as if she is about to let one rip.

A Torrent of Unadulterated Rage (Not for the Faint Hearted)

2010-02-19T02:46:00.000-08:00

I must preface this blog by letting anyone reading know that I currently have PMS. As such, my propensity for rage knows no bounds. Every poor soul I’ve encountered has been on the receiving end of it this morning, even inanimate objects (I startled an innocent bystander as I walked out of my flat, shouting “t*sser!!” at my I-pod for daring to run out of battery 4 seconds into Bowie’s “Slow Burn”).

However, I am fairly confident that, even in my more usual, significantly less hormonal state, I’d still be outraged this morning, greeted, as I was by the story that a perfectly healthy looking 5 year old girl came home from school with a note stating she was overweight, prompting her to ask her mother “I’m not fat, am I Mummy?”.

I’m unable to register any other emotion than abject despair.

The online version of the article features similar stories from parents, who have been sent letters from people who have, incidently, never met their children, containing all sorts of scaremongering language about increased risk of cancer, heart disease etc. Upon closer investigation, it has transpired that their child is just 1 lb over the “recommended BMI” (whatever that may mean), yet still they are sent this standard letter, designed to terrify them into….what exactly? Putting their child on a diet? (Because we all know how well they work don’t we?)

Anyone who hasn’t taken heed of the constant, condescending advertisements and media messaging about getting your “5 a day” and cutting out “bad fats” that have been chucked at us in every conceivable form over the past decade is either living under a rock or, frankly, aint gonna change now.

It seems the government would rather see our kids paranoid, isolated and miserable, yo-yoing between strict diet regimes and the inevitable binge-eating these ultimately provoke, than with a little bit of puppy fat.

Anyone who regularly reads my blogs will be now be all-too familiar with my feelings to the dreaded BMI. If I was in charge of everything (*pauses typing momentarily to pursue that train of thought*), I’d ban people from using the phrase “BMI”. You might as well have doctors, the media, and misguided, gym-going members of the public saying “air whipped sausage statue” or “three headed green pig-dog liver” over and over again, for all the meaning “BMI” actually has.

I’ve come to the conclusion that whoever is responsible for implementing these nationwide health and education policies is either a) constantly hungover b) has a severe form of attention deficit disorder or c) has employed an extremely smelly person to sit on their desk all day poking them on the shoulder repeatedly whilst chanting “what are you going to do about obesity? What are you going to do about obesity?”. Or possibly all three. They’re the only explanations I can fathom for the haste and lack of thought that’s gone into this latest venture.

When I was 13, I was about 5 ft 6 and weighed about 10 stone. I was much taller and a little chunkier than many of my peers, but not overweight by a long stretch. I ate every nutritionists’ dream – demi-vegetarian (I ate fish only, no meat), lots of wholegrain bread, olive oil, fresh fruit and vegetables etc. I played netball 3 times a week, did comprehensive two-hour dance training sessions at least twice a week, swam and walked everywhere. I was the healthiest I have ever been in my life, in the days before alcohol, late-night TV and PMS (speaking of which, will someone please pass me some chocolate before I scream?!!).

I was, at the time, friends with this very slight, sickly sort of creature, whose name I shall spare for the sake of her blushes. Let’s call her Sarah. Sarah was significantly shorter and thinner than me, was one of those sorts of people who said they “didn’t like” most foods before even sampling and seemed to have an aversion to daylight, preferring instead to sit in a darkened corner somewhere and read books. With the layers of fantasy my imagination and hindsight have imposed, I always picture her as a hybrid of a mouse and a vampire shortly before being forced into sunlight and exploding into dust. It’ll be useful for the purposes of this anecdote, if you picture her in the same way.

One evening, we were sat in the back of her Mum’s Range Rover chatting idly about life, the universe and everything, as you do when you’re 13. I can’t remember the context (and that, in itself is significant), but her mother suddenly interjected with “well, yes, but Natasha is larger than most”.

She wasn’t to know that this particular throw-away statement proceeded to fall on top of a myriad of existing insecurities, jibes from people at school and feelings of unworthiness and to well and truly break the camel’s back. I proceeded to remain silent for the rest of the journey, cry for a protracted amount of time once safely ensconced in my bedroom and resolve to put myself on a diet the very next day. For the next 4 months I survived on an apple, a plain boiled potato and sometimes, if I was good, one weetabix with water every single day. My weight plummeted to just over 7 stone. My hair fell out, I developed Raynard’s disease, my school grades inevitably suffered, I no longer had the energy for sports and the upshot of the entire thing was in the summer of 1995 when my doctor threatened to hospitalize me and have me put on a drip unless I ate something.

During my bulimic decade, so indoctrinated was I by the culture of “thinness = health (however it is obtained), success and happiness”, that I yearned desperately for those early teenage years, when I had what I perceived to be the resolve to starve myself. So you might say that one comment – “Natasha is larger than most” - went on to have a knock-on affect for the next 15 years of my life.

Now, I am not, of course, suggesting that Sarah’s Mum is entirely responsible for my history of eating disorders. That would be hideously unfair and overly simplistic. How could she have possibly known she was touching on a sore point? But therein lies the point. People who have, and I stress this again, never seen or met our children are telling them that they are overweight. And who knows how much damage that could do – The increasing trends of self-harm, alcohol and drug abuse and body dysmorphia in teenagers, in addition to the ever-present threat of eating disorders, all have one common origin – Low self esteem.

And what could be more perfectly designed to lower children’s self esteem than an official letter from the powers that be which might as well say “you are not normal, you are a greedy pig”?

Stop. The. Madness.

Fat-Scapegoating: The New Trend for the Teenies

2010-02-17T02:42:00.000-08:00

When I was at college doing A level History, my rather brilliant teacher, Mr Biggins, devoted an entire lesson to educating us about how propaganda didn’t suddenly cease with the collapse of the Third Reich. We might have scoffed at how anyone could be so easily influenced as to be taken in by a cartoon of a Jew/rat hybrid creature, but in fact, we learned, we were being just as manipulated, each and every day.

Every society needs its scapegoats. In the 80s, I remember one of my friend’s Mums (blithely unaware that my brothers are mixed race), telling me how this country was “going to pot” because black people were responsible for all crime. Yes, that’s right. All of it. In the noughties, acquaintances of mine who I had always considered rather sensible and open-minded, categorically told me that Polish people had “come over here and taken their jobs”. Even though they were employed at the time.

In the teenies, it seems it’s the “obesity epidemic” which is being blamed for absolutely everything which is wrong with our culture. Yes, folks, overweight people are infiltrating our homes with poisonous messages promoting sloth and gluttony, using up all the resources of the NHS and probably committing all the crimes and taking your job as well. Even though they never get off their fat arses, apparently.

Seemingly sound statistics are thrown at us – Currently a third of all adults have an unhealthily high BMI and by 2020 this will rise to 80%. “Stop! Stop the terrifying slide into obesity!” The headlines scream, as if this is the miracle quick-fix we need in order to mend our broken society.

There are a couple of reasons why this is all self-righteous tosh. Firstly, it is actually impossible to measure whether or not someone is overweight simply by comparing their height and weight, which is the technique currently employed by British GPs. That’s why the 1/3 of people with an “unhealthy BMI” in this country include Olympic athletes and body builders. In the U.S, BMI is measured by comparing muscle and bone density as well as measurements, in addition to height and weight, the upshot being that technically there is a higher percentage of “obese” people in the UK than in the U.S (take a moment to think about that).

I have now lost count of the number of people I know who are a size 10, 12 or 14, slim, eat healthily, exercise regularly and have been induced into a state of utter panic and tearfulness by their doctors, after being told that they are officially “obese”. Equally, Winning Minds clients who are painfully thin to the eye have been told by their GPs that they do not qualify for emergency eating disorder treatment because they have a “healthy” BMI.

Secondly, let’s put aside the healthy people being put into an obese category for a moment and focus on the overweight people who do in fact significantly overeat. People do not compulsively overeat because they are greedy or selfish or evil. People overeat because they are lonely, bored, depressed, disillusioned or because when everything else in life fails you there is always chocolate. Obesity is a symptom, not a cause. By persecuting fat people, all we are doing is once again failing to acknowledge that, as a society, our priorities are all wrong.

Whenever my Granddad was criticized for being a smoker, he used to say “you can see my bad habit, what’s yours?”. Think about the people you know. I’d be willing to bet my last Rolo that each one of them is using some sort of coping mechanism. It might be smoking, it might be drinking, it might even be going to the gym. In a world where we are constantly being pushed to fit a perfect aesthetic and make the most money and to never be content with, or take the time to enjoy what we have, it’s the norm for us to be stressed-out, mildly depressed or anxious. So who can blame us if, caught up in the chaos, the mixed messages and the brutal rat race, the thing we most look forward to at the end of a hard day is a cigarette, a glass of wine or, dare I say it, a great big slice of cake?

Only when we finally absorb the message that raising self-esteem and re-prioritizing is the key to a happier, healthier population, will we see a decline in the rates of genuine obesity. It won’t happen with threats to cut medical care for obese people or to weigh and measure our children at school (horrific). In fact, all that will do is serve to increase our growing sense of despair, and probably make us reach for another slice of cake.

Cosmopolitan

2010-02-13T06:37:00.001-08:00

This month my decade-long battle with bulimia was given two sacred, glossy pages in the style, life and everything Bible which is Cosmopolitan magazine.

When I first decided to go public with my struggle, I made the decision that I'd spend however long it took waiting for a publication I could trust to report it responsibly. A number of offers were made to me for my story, but when Cosmopolitan showed an interest, I knew I had to give them exclusivity.

I'd learned my lesson about 6 months earlier- A popular glossy women's weekly had approached me and promised free high-quality photographs for my portfolio in exchange for me persuading my ex to do an interview for their article "the real reason you broke up". Sensing an opportunity, I dragged my very lovely, very obliging ex into the studio (who then proceeded to commune with his inner posey-model type personage and thoroughly relish every click of the camera).

We spent the best part of an hour being manipulated into believing that the journalist really understood the circumstances surrounding our breakup and, from her uniquely objective stance could find sympathy with both of our perspectives. Two weeks later, the issue appeared on the shelves and I had a m-ephipeny (an epipheny relating to the media, see what I did there). You see, in this instance, the story wasn't actually about us. There was a story, which has been pre-decided long before we came on board, and into which our particular set of circumstances had fit. We were a mere cog in a much larger, more powerful machine.

The real reason my ex and I split, which was explained with painstaking care and at great length to the journo, was this: I was singing his sister down the aisle at her forthcoming nuptuals, which were taking place some way away and, as I was unemployed at the time, my ex had agreed to pay for my train ticket to the venue. Two days before I called him to see what the score was and he had already taken himself there, conveniently forgetting to make adequate arrangements for me to do the same. A stupid row ensued about money (which wins hands down on the list of most pointless things to argue about) and my ex slammed the phone down on me, leaving me with the words "do you know what, don't come to the wedding and don't contact me again". He called me after the wedding, full of apologies, which I found myself unable to accept, not because after a reasonably happy year together a minor argument about money wasn't unsurmountable, but because he was the sort of man who would allow his sister to be let down on her big day. I didn't want to be with someone who couldn't swallow his pride, put his own feelings to one side and thus allow for a crucial part of the happiest, most important day of his sister's life to take place.

My ex explained to the journo that 5 years previous to the wedding (and it's important to note mentally at this juncture that it was 5 years before), his Dad had died, meaning that he had the responsibility of walking his sister down the aisle. Completely freaked out, nervous and generally under mental strain at the enormity of what he was about to undertake, he hadn't been thinking straight and allowed himself to overreact to the argument with me.

Which all seems fair enough, in retrospect.

I read the published article with a mixture of disbelief, horror and fighting the urge to burst out laughing. Three couples were case studied. One couple were both lovely and had split amicably, conceeding that it was merely a question of a lack of chemistry, the second were comprised of a perfectly lovely girl and a bit of a bastard wanker. Which of course meant that the third had to make up the missing component in this trio of relationship cliches- The lovely bloke and the utter cowbag of a girlfriend. And that was the catagory into which my ex and I had been appointed. The article, which was written from my ex's perspective, read something along the lines of "my Dad had just died, Natasha was going on at me and something had to give".

It was at that point that I started freaking myself out with maths (and it's not every day you can say that), working out the readership of the magazine -vs- the number of people in the country and concluding that every 80th person I encountered in the street thought I was the devil incarnate. Fortunately, I wasn't too distressed- It was a topic of little consequence and I got some nice photos and a rather fetching, one shouldered dress out of the deal.

My eating disorder battle and the work I now devote the largest chunk of my life to, however, was something I wanted treated with due care and attention. Which is why I'm so glad I waited for Cosmopolitan to publish it. The article was candid where necessary, but without the usual drama, embellishment, self-pity and hyperbole one associates with "real life exposes" and ultimately conveyed what I wanted it to - That there is hope, even in our darkest moments when we find ourselves unable to see it, or even imagine that it is there.

Thank you Rosie Mullender at Cosmopolitan. To read the article, get the March issue (it has Jessica Alba on the cover), out now, and turn to page 53.

West Country Adventures

2010-02-11T07:56:00.000-08:00

I've spent the past 4 days gradually working myself into a state of beyond-knackeredness, performing 5 hour long, very intense body confidence workshops per day to the students of Gloucestershire College.

A surprising consequence - I have found myself gaining a fascinating insight into what it must be like to be Mark Newey (my boss).

Mark has devised a unique and brilliant "mind map" - a way to convey in layman's terms the way we ingest, dismiss or store the information we take in from the outside world and how this in turn dictates our values, beliefs, self esteem and, ultimately, our behaviour. I remember Mark taking me through the mind map during my first session at Winning Minds and thinking it would be actually impossible for anything in the entire universe to make more sense. All of our clients, whatever their background, personality or issue, immediately identify and recognise that the map accurately represents the inner workings of their mind.

As part of my body confidence campaign, I have adapted the mind map to show how our sense of identity and self is inextricably tied up with how content we are in our own skins, which in turn has been to some extent manipulated and defined by external factors (for example the messages given to us by fashion and beauty industries).

I have officially decided that watching the students wide eyed, occasionally open mouthed, maintaining an expression which might just as well be accompanied by a cartoon light bulb appearing above their heads, is the fun-est thing EVER. I can completely understand why educating people about their minds gets Mark out of bed in the morning - It's brilliant. There are few things in this life you could teach to a class of 30 and have every single person nod vigorously in response to the question "does that make sense?"

What I'm attempting to do is instill in these young people a sense of perspective, to enrich their own lives by establishing a better relationship between their minds and bodies and those of others by actively contributing in the beauty revolution. I have spoken to media, graphics, hair, beauty, music and photography students i.e. the people who will be responsible for moulding and influencing future attitudes towards beauty and I have been careful to point out that an attainable standard of beauty in the public eye does NOT mean that they will have to compromise their craft. Acknowledging a responsibility to present a public image which won't make people feel insecure and unworthy does not have to be at the expense of beauty, creativity and, more importantly, fun.

The response has been overwhelmingly positive, especially (and surprisingly) from the fashion and photography students, who seemed to inherently grasp that some aspects of their chosen industry could do with a dose of introspection and improvement. I've met some genuinely gorgeous people, full of optimism and enthusiasm for life. I've also met some people whose own body insecurities have crippled their self esteem and prevented them from enjoying the maximum freedom minimum responsibility set-up of their student days.

It's been heartbreaking, when some of these lovely, creative, intelligent young people have confessed that their constant lack of self esteem is having an adverse effect on their lives, but not surprising. I cannot therapise them - That is Mark's remit. I also cannot tell them how to think. What I can do is open the door for them to question their longstanding beliefs. Is it right to analyse the "coincidence" that the plastification of our society has coincided with a huge plunge in our individual self-esteem and sense of worth? Can the insecurity which it is in the best interests for certain industries to cleverly and subtly instill within us transfer itself, so it stops being about our looks and begins to seep into every area of our lives? Can an airbrushed image ultimately make us believe we are bad people?

I know of course, that the answer to all of these questions is yes - But it's a conclusion I hope they come to on their own.

My West Country antics are being reported tomorrow (12th Feb) in the Gloucester Echo. I will also be speaking about the campaign on BBC Radio Gloucester at around 10am tomorrow and Star FM later in the day. Look out also for a news feature, including footage from one of my talks and the reactions of the students on ITV News next week - More details to follow.

Sun in the Sky You Know How I Fe-eeel

2010-01-27T05:00:00.000-08:00

As I made my way into the Winning Minds office today, the icy winds pounded furiously against my shivering skin and the depressing gun-metal grey February sky loomed menacingly over the frosty earth beneath. However, despite Mother Nature doing her utmost to dampen my spirits, I positively skipped through the streets of Stortford, smiling at bemused strangers whilst providing my own imaginary world of pathetic fallacy in my mind– a smiling sunshine wearing sunglasses like in the Vitalite advert, friendly blue skies, birds twittering contentedly in the branches overhead etc etc.

Why? It’s all because of a refreshingly enlightened journalist called Jane Warren who yesterday (26th January) published a two page spread in the Daily Express which finally gave a balanced and honest view on the rising popularity of plus size models in fashion and a valuable contribution to the beauty debate.

The article began:

“They’re not overweight, they’re normal – the models who want to put curves back into clothes.”

It is centered around Crystal Renn (she of the Goddess stature) and other gorgeous “plus size” (which should be used within the confines of inverted commas, really, considering the article’s central thesis, above) models such as Kate Smith (size 16 AND in her 30s! Certainly gave me some hope of longevity in the modeling industry) and Lizzie Miller (remember her? Size 12 posing naked with a small roll of fat around her abdomen/womb area – like women are supposed to have – and it caused a general palarva last year?).

The feature made a point of including some of things which might seem obvious, but appear to have been mysteriously overlooked heretofore – How the inclusion of plus size models in the elitist sphere of high fashion after decades of “heroin chic” and “working the anorexic look” (horrifying concept, but apparently actually said to Crystal Renn) is a massive achievement and the result of more than just a flash-in-the-pan change in trends for 2010. Plus size isn’t like “nautical stripes for spring” (please PLEASE can we have something different next Spring, fashion designer people? I am utterly bored of every shop on the high street looking like Popeye’s closet come March) – It represents a significant revolution in attitudes.

Warren was also insightful enough to point out that the ultimate aim was getting VARIETY into fashion. Hurrah! I heard me, Mark Newey, the entire council and cast of Body Gossip and anyone else with a bit of foresight cry! The Daily Express have recognized that it’s not a case of “skinny –v- curvy” or of “curvy being the new skinny” – Just of “healthy being the new unhealthy” and equal representation for the entire beauty spectrum.

Yesterday evening, as I went to alight the train on which I’d been sitting, reading the article, I had a realisation: My posture had changed, I was smiling, sitting a little straighter, a little prouder. Even for someone like me, who teaches body confidence and occasionally models, seeing other women my shape and size being celebrated in the media gave me that warm inner glow that can only come from a sense of self-esteem. Today, thinking of all the other women who must have given a similar boost, and how this piece represented another victory in the beauty battle, was what put an extra spring in my step (and lessened my urge to emigrate to the tropics to escape those bone-chilling winter winds). Thank you Jane Warren.

An Own Goal in the Beauty Battle

2010-01-25T05:09:00.001-08:00

Having worked myself up into a veritable frenzy of excitement at the prospect of reading the Times Style Magazine piece on the “curvelution”, I disappointingly found it to be the editorial equivalent of eating a penguin biscuit bar when you’re hankering after a Dairy Milk – It simply didn’t hit the spot.

The tantalizing image on the front cover of two voluptuous vixens promised an article about “how the curvy girl is trying to break into high fashion”. I expected an expose, detailing these women’s struggles and the reactions to them in a world devoted to worshipping a twiglet-like physique. Instead we were told that “men like a woman with a bit of meat on her bones” (no kidding) and where to buy a correctly fitting bra (yawn, Cosmo taught us that ten years ago).

In a similarly predictable and tedium-inducing way, it is hinted that this plus size revolution is merely a flash-in-the-pan and that larger ladies should get out and strut their stuff whilst it remains fashionable, which runs completely counter to the writer’s earlier argument that, whilst rail-thin has always been hailed as the epitome of beauty in high fashion, in the real world it’s curves that get you noticed.

This is all ultimately crowd-pleasing, platitude-filled tosh. In the real world, it’s confidence that gets you noticed, whatever look you happen to be working. In a typical oversimplification, the writer completely disregards the fact that these women even being allowed into the notoriously elitist sphere of high fashion represents a huge breakthrough and revolution in attitudes. It didn’t happen merely because Mark Fast got bored one day and thought “hey, why don’t I put some curves on the catwalk for a change?” – It is the result of endless campaigning, soul searching, public outrage and personal heartache (for the models involved at least) and is the first step towards getting some variety into the portrayal of beauty.

I have said it before and I’ll say it again: What plus size models represent is pride and self esteem. One of the pictures shows a (guessing) size 18 girl wearing a sliver of a silver Gucci swimsuit. She has sturdy-looking thighs, a bit of a tummy and rolls of back fat. It is not a flattering photo (but then I’d defy anyone to pull off a cutaway shiny silver strapless swimsuit whilst adopting a Matrix-style motionless back-flip pose) but there is something defiant and undeniably beautiful about it. The pose conveys strength and rebelliousness and has a shock factor – It says “get ready world, for I am me, I am here and I will not apologise for my body”. That is an attitude we could all do with a little bit more of, wrongly-fitting bra or not.

Memoires of a Glamour Puss

2010-01-25T03:32:00.000-08:00

On the days when I have the time and inclination, I like to create a look for myself inspired by the sirens of the 50s – Strong of brow, long of lash, and pout-y of lip. I like to tease my hair into soft curls and pop on something which speaks of both strength and femininity, enhances my hourglass frame and hints at sexuality, without being overt. Yes, when I can be bothered, this is my “look” (and if I happen to dash out the door, hair still damp, fresh of face, wearing odd socks, furiously typing last minute emails, sending text messages, flinging the curtains back, looking with dismay at last night’s washing up and muttering “b*gger, b*gger, b*gger” under my breath, which is often the case, that doesn’t matter either, because in my mind I’m still 50s siren lady).

So, there I was one Sunday lunchtime, in my parents’ local pub, looking pretty hot, it has to be said. My parents introduced me to an acquaintance of theirs, a jolly, robust looking man in his 60s – Tall, booming and baritone and excessively articulate. He asked if I’d had a good weekend and I told him I’d been lucky enough to see Sir Ian McKellen’s beyond fantastic performance in Waiting for Godot at the Theatre Royal the previous day. “Ah” he said and then he lent into me conspiratorially before asking in a tone that might as well have been accompanied by a pat on the head “and did you understand it?”

I discussed this in fits of hysterics later with my Mum (apparently I’d given him a look that could sour milk before monologuing at great length (and to everyone else’s great tedium) about the various interpretations of the play and which one I gave the most credence to, using quotes from the text. Well, he wasn’t to know I studied it for A level).

You know when someone says something to you that they think is totally obvious (and therefore have never bothered to mention before) but is a massive, life changing revelation for you? Well, this is the conversation my Mum and I had (and, you must bear in mind, I was simultaneously trying to speak and have an epiphany):

Mum: He only asked you because your look doesn’t fit your brain.

Me: What do you mean my look doesn’t fit my brain? What are you talking about?

Mum: Well, I think people might assume you’re not as clever as you are…..

Me: Hang on hang on. Are you saying I look stupid?

Mum: (panicking slightly) Well, no, not exactly. It’s just you have big boobs and long hair and….you know….. that look doesn’t really make you think of a brainy person.

Me: *raises eyebrow, sits back in chair, folds arms and looks back at Mum expectantly*

Mum: (digging herself out of hole) On the plus side, however, you have the element of surprise. Which is brilliant, because no one expects you to be able to talk about clever things, and then you can……. You do it all the time, surprise people. I just don’t think you realise it.

What struck me most was this innate assumption that if you are in any way glamorous it is to compensate for a lack of intelligence (or perhaps that women do not have enough brain space to simultaneously store the ability to apply makeup and information about the wider world). Do we, in the post-feminist era, truly still believe that beauty and intelligence are mutually exclusive?

It’s a minefield of an area, which even I cannot form a definitive opinion about – Where is the line between glaming up because it’s a way of expressing oneself and objectifying oneself before anyone else has even had the opportunity to? Like my new hero, Crystal Renn (I will not stop campaigning until her book is made compulsory reading for all teenage girls), I have always loved fashion, makeup, unashamed girly-ness, but it has never completely dominated my life. The confusion, I believe, somewhat arises out of the “Spice Girls” era, closely followed by the era of the WAG/Glamour Model, who somewhat spuriously claimed to embody “Girl Power” which was then placed under the umbrella of feminism (having very little to do with the genuine concept, as I believe Germaine Greer pointed out). Making a career out of turning oneself into an object of desire, be it by posing for a shoot for a lad’s mag or marrying a wealthy footballer, became suddenly something to aspire to.

Today, the Daily Mail Online published an article entitled “Land of the living dolls: Feminism aimed to liberate women. Instead, it's spawned a promiscuous generation who believe that their bodies are the only passport to success”, which touches on this very issue.

The women the article describes are desperate to win a shoot with Nuts Magazine by sprawling virtually naked on a bed in a nightclub. This has zilch to do with feminism, very little to do with sex and everything to do with the old chestnut: Low Self Esteem.

In my last blog I talked about young people feeling disillusioned what with unemployment, the breakdown of families and the recession and being desperate for some attention, which they might mistakenly equate with the love and respect that are so evidently missing from most of their lives. It’s my opinion that the girls the Daily Mail article describes symbolize a symptom of the very same phenomenon. Women degrade themselves simply because they crave attention and misguidedly believe that this is the only way to get it. Who knows, beneath the 3 inches of makeup, fake tan and false eyelashes there may be a highly intelligent girl, but with glamour modeling, wagging and it-girl-ing touted as the fast track to wealth, success and adoration, who can blame them for relenting, buying themselves a boob job and stripping off?

This all feeds in marvelously to the Body Gossip ethos, because ultimately, discussing real bodies and the value there can be in their spectacular and beautiful variety is empowering for women and men alike. In fact, in bringing bodies to the public attention, the ultimate aim is for us all to think about them less. This seems paradoxical - but once we all sincerely believe that we are uniquely gorgeous, it eliminates the need for validation from, in this particular instance, a hoard of drooling, drunken revelers in a nightclub. In the end, it is about creating a reality where women dress in whatever way makes them feel good about themselves, without it being a reflection on their character or intellect and where I can commune with my inner Marylin Monroe and still be expected to understand Beckett.

Teach The Well and Let Them Lead the Way

2010-01-21T01:49:00.000-08:00

Recent propaganda would have us believe that anyone under the age of 18 is a shameless thug, desperate to gain their coveted ASBO by committing unprovoked acts of violence on unsuspecting, law abiding citizens. It’s a classic example of the minority being hyperbolized into a stereotype by a scaremongering media campaign which has rendered some people in the UK too frightened to leave their homes after dark.

Recently, I was having a conversation with an 80-something year old acquaintance who stated “young people, they have got no respect, they think they know it all”. Somewhat foolishly, when you consider my audience, I responded by articulating my theory that one cannot demand respect without giving it. “You could be right” she replied, in the sort of tone which assured me that she thought I was anything but.

Having met hundreds of UK teens during the course of my Body Confidence Campaign, admittedly with trepidation, I have not yet encountered a single one who was deliberately rude. What I have discovered is a generation of people who are, whilst wonderful as individuals, despondent, disillusioned and lacking in self esteem as a whole.

The current financial climate means that even the most well qualified of our students are not guaranteed employment which utilizes their skills, or even pays the rent. A recent study found that in an average London classroom, 60% of fathers are absent altogether, with single working mothers absent a lot of the time, struggling to provide for their children. Feeling neglected and unloved, a huge proportion of teens are seeking the financial reward and adoration they crave by pursuing a career as a C:NS (celebrity: non-specified). Their dreams are nurtured and fuelled by the Big Brother and Simon Cowell reality television empires, churning out one gormless, unsuspecting victim after another, catapulting them to dizzy heights of undeserving fame and then allowing them to be ripped to shreds by a gleeful paparazzi.

With glamour models and it girls heralded as the epitome of success, it is little wonder that young people are feeling increasingly resentful, in a plastic reality, offering little reward for hard work and no recognition for those who don’t fit a certain aesthetic. The elder generation must seem, collectively, to be a bunch of whinging, judgmental, environment destroying idiots, whose only legacy to the children of today is a constant feeling of insecurity and a hole in the Ozone layer.

And then we wonder why, with little incentive to pursue any dream which cannot unfold in front of a camera, portrayed as society’s villains and often without a stable home life, young people act up from time to time. The key, in my experience, is simply to show interest in them and to listen to their needs. With 70% of people in the UK between the ages of 11 and 19 citing their relationship with their body as their “number one worry”, 14 and 15 year olds asking their parents for plastic surgery for their birthday and 1 in 10 people under 25 having an eating disorder, the message is pretty clear: One of the issues which desperately needs to be addressed is body confidence and whatever measures are currently being taken are falling woefully short.

Having 11 GSCES, 3 A Levels, an Honors Degree in English and a Diploma in Law under my belt didn’t stop me casting aside all my potential, throwing myself head first into an eating disorder, plunging into depression and ultimately nearly ending my life. It’s therefore always been my opinion that schools have a duty to do everything they can to help students feel happy in their own skins, something which is as, if not more, crucial to their success in life as an academic education.
Luckily, when I launched by Body Confidence Campaign in August 2009, schools in Hertfordshire and Essex were enlightened enough to recognise the importance of the issue, with schools, colleges and universities all of the UK quickly following suit.
Andy Ginn, Director of Creative Academies at Gloucestershire College said of the campaign:
"The college is actively engaged with the 'every learner matters' agenda and under the framework for excellence, we're particularly proud to be associated with this extremely innovative and positive campaign. Students studying on a variety of courses such as fashion, music, hair, beauty, graphics and photography for example will be helping in the future to shape the attitudes and beliefs of our society, so in the creative academies we're fully supportive of the work of Natasha Devon (in association with Winning Minds, Body Gossip- and B-eat) in raising these issues at the first opportunity"
What Andy has shrewdly recognized, is that the campaign will not only benefit the young people of today, but that by investing time and effort into the people responsible for shaping future attitudes towards beauty, we are saving subsequent generations an awful lot of turmoil and heartache.

I devised the campaign to be more than just a lecture, which, however eye opening, represents only an hour of the student’s lives wrestling with a lifetime of indoctrination and programming - Which is why I also incorporated a confidential helpline and an online forum with a variety of causes, petitions and groups the students can become involved with. Since I began working for Winning Minds, I have been astounded by the size of the community out there who are passionately dedicated to changing the perception of beauty to promote a healthier and happier society and by working with Body Gossip, B-eat, MGEDT (Men Get Eating Disorders Too) and Evolve Magazine (to name but a few), part of my motivation is joining the dots - United, we are formidable. The forum aims to introduce the students to this community, let them know that support is available if they wish to make their own stand against prevailing attitudes and beliefs. With the helpline designed to cater for their emotional needs, the Body Confidence Campaign represents, I hope, a fully comprehensive network of support.

That is why I was particularly deflated to receive a letter today from the Department of Children, Schools and Families on behalf of Ed Balls essentially stating that the current PSHE program on the curriculum offers the scope for the effects of the media and airbrushing to be taught in schools and therefore, whilst they supported my campaign, they were not prepared to offer me any funding.

However, I cannot help but wonder, what with the massive recent media interest in and public support for my campaign and in Gok Wan’s petition to have Body Confidence classes included in the curriculum, and with the elections fast approaching, which of us is in fact missing out of the potential benefits of my attempted political alliance……?

Is Curvy The New Skinny? An Inherently Flawed Question

2010-01-19T05:02:00.000-08:00

On 17th January 2010, at stupid-o-clock for a “school night” (11.45pm), I was invited to debate “is curvy the new skinny?” on Eddie Nestor’s late night BBC Radio London show.

Being, as I am, of an Amazonian build, and embodying the notion of genuinely curvy (my bust and hips are 12 inches bigger than my waist), people immediately expect me to be vehemently and unapologetically in the red corner of curviness, a foot soldier for the “curvelution”. In many ways, I am, but not for the reasons you might think. To solely champion curvaceous beauty would contradict my entire stance in the debate: I applaud any image or media message which presents us with something undeniably beautiful, but not in the traditional (and very narrow) sense of the word. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than seeing someone who conveys an unrepentant sense of pride in who they are, "flaws" and all, someone interesting-looking, not bowing to the prevailing Barbie-like beauty aesthetic.

For this very reason, I believe everyone, no matter what their natural body type, should have someone they can realistically aspire to as a style icon and I refuse to be drawn into “skinny bashing” – I have had first hand experience of how it feels to be judged purely on a visual assessment and that would be a disservice to the naturally slender, as well as an oversimplification of the matter at hand.

What fascinated me most about the recent press surrounding the plus size revolution, was not so much the phenomenon itself, which has been highly anticipated and a long time coming, but the public’s reaction to it. A divide became apparent between those who were delighted at the abundance of flesh, the highly sexual images of robustly healthy looking beauties (mainly men, unsurprisingly) and those who associated the images with hedonistic decadence, with the laziness, gluttony and the obesity epidemic which they saw as the downfall of modern society and, as such, were disgusted.

The idea that you can make generalized and sweeping judgments concerning someone’s lifestyle according to their dress size is ludicrous to begin with – Plenty of larger people exercise and eat healthily, but are simply genetically destined to be a little heavier. Similarly, I could name you 10 people in my immediate acquaintance right this second who have whippet like metabolisms that enable them to maintain a very slim frame and yet seem to spend most of their time eating carbs and sitting on their bony bottoms.

More importantly, however, this notion that obesity is the biggest strain on the NHS in this country and that Plus Size models are encouraging it must, crucially, be challenged. In fact, 70% of GP visits in this country are as a result of some sort of psychological issue and the one thing that unites anyone with a mental health issue, be it an eating disorder, depression, or anxiety, is low self esteem. By ensuring that everyone is represented in the glamorous fashion and media industries, in a World where celebrities are literally worshipped, we are actively promoting high self esteem. By showing images of women who might not be “perfect” in the prevailing sense of the word, yet still take pride in their appearance, wear beautiful clothes and encapsulate beauty, we are encouraging the public to do the same.

When people feel good about themselves, they start to want to nourish and tend to the needs of their body, they no longer feel like a waste of space, undeserving of attention and care – Yes, I’m going to be controversial and say it: Plus size models are, if anything, the SOLUTION to the obesity crisis.

If putting only very slim people in the public eye was going to make everyone thinner and/or healthier (remembering that these two things are NOT synonymous), it would have happened by now. What it has undeniably done is fuel the terrifying fire of eating disorders and body dysmorphia and lo and behold, obesity still exists. It’s my opinion that obesity (of the type which is the result of compulsive eating) is symptomatic of the same fundamental element that encourages people to starve themselves: Low Self Esteem.

If there is one thing that going into schools, colleges and universities throughout the UK as part of my body confidence campaign and being involved with Body Gossip has taught me, it is that people want a voice. The overwhelming response to the Body Gossip real body stories writing competition proved that people want their body type represented and acknowledged. They are tired of being ignored and ridiculed simply for not fitting a rigid ideal, an ideal which represents less than 1% of the population’s natural body type.

When I ask the students I teach “what is the ultimate aim of the fashion industry?” I get some very peculiar answers. Most of them seem to be under the illusion that it has something to do with art. In reality, the fashion industry is no different to any other – It is there to sell us things and so far it has done so by deliberately instilling in us a sense of shame in who we are, a shame that can only be counteracted by having the latest pair of stilettos, miracle foundation and dieting in a vain attempt to look like Kate Moss. Fashion must work on supply and demand if it is to survive and it seems that right now the public is demanding plus size. Whether or not it is tokenistic remains to be seen but, as far as I am concerned, it is a step in the right direction – To a World in which there is more than one definition of gorgeous and in which we can all feel happy in our own skins.

The B in BMI......

2010-01-19T05:01:00.000-08:00

..does not stand for "be all and end all".

It’s an unfortunate side effect of being a woman and living in a culture which constantly demands superficial measures of “perfection”, that we always want what we cannot have. Ladies with lustrous, poker straight, shiny, swinging curtains of blonde hair long for a head full of raven coloured curls. Women with the slim, straight-up-and-down figure that means they can wear pretty much any style of clothing crave the curvaceous shapes of their more voluptuous counterparts, not knowing that their envy is entirely reciprocated.

As such, despite my friends insisting they were in fits of jealousy over my Amazonian frame, long legs and ridiculously proportioned bust, I always wanted the one thing my natural shape couldn’t offer me: A flat stomach. In addition to a tendency to carry excess weight around my middle, I also had invasive surgery for poloric stenosis as a baby, rendering my tummy a strange shape. So fixated became I on the elusive washboard abs, the lack thereof became all I could see when I looked in the mirror. A decade of what amounted to starvation because of excessive purging, abuse of laxatives and compulsive exercise meant my ribs and hip bones protruded aggressively and yet all I seemed to be able to focus on was a 3cm by 3cm pocket of flab, a consequence of my operation and also of all the bingeing I’d done over the years.

As I forced myself to vomit until I was dry-retching, I’d picture the concave middle I so desperately desired and then, red in the face, eyes streaming and sweating, I’d do hundreds of stomach crunches, but to no avail.

My university lectures were my only sanctuary from the insistent body insecurity that demanded my constant attention, because if there was one thing that was more important to me than being thin, it was learning. When I tried to read, I found it difficult to concentrate and the words would swim in front of my eyes because of the poor physical condition I was in, but listening to someone else expressing their passion for literature and the arts, imparting their knowledge, drawing me into their World and the World of the author or playwright and their characters (any World but mine, at that stage) was a real treat. One day, after class, a couple of my fellow students (not friends exactly but with whom I got on well enough) asked me to stay behind until everyone else had left the lecture hall.

After an age of meaningful looks being exchanged between them, one of them seemed to have been silently appointed The Spokesperson.

“We’re just checking to see if you’re ok”.

“Yes” (lie) “Why?”

“You’re so thin”.

(bizarrely pleased) “Really?”

“This isn’t a joke, Natasha. You look awful. Like you’re about to keel over. Please, please eat something”.

“ok. Thanks”.

I walked back to my halls of residence turning their words over and over in my head, vainly trying to find an excuse to continue my denial of having a problem, but I couldn’t. I booked myself in to see my GP.

During that doctor’s appointment, it was the first time I had ever admitted to anyone, aloud and directly, that I was suffering from bulimia nervosa and it was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. My word came out in a whisper, disjointed as I stuttered that I had been making myself sick and that I’d been doing it for years. Without looking up from his notes, the GP asked me to get on the scales and after weighing me, concluded that I did not qualify for treatment because I was “not underweight” and sent me on my way.

Since working for Winning Minds, I have realised that I am not alone in this. Anorexics who weigh little over 6 or 7 stone have been told that until they reach the magic “anorexic weight” (which seems, for some reason, to be 5 stone) they are not considered to require urgent attention. Any sensible person who looked at them with their eyes could see that this was not the case – they require it, they desperately need it, their lives depend upon it. Similarly, several perfectly healthy and slim friends of mine have returned from a routine check-up in tears having been told that they are “obese”.

That is why I am very pleased that on 12th January 2010 the Daily Mail Online published an article entitled “He wears medium T-shirts, walks two miles a day and lifts weights in his tea break. So why is this man officially 'obese'?” To read the article click here.

I do not know what BMI is based upon, but I strongly suspect that it was entirely fabricated by one person (who was probably very short and had very small bones and virtually no muscle) a long time ago and has been taken as gospel by the medical profession ever since. The fact that entirely healthy people are being told they must lose weight as a consequence is bad enough, but it should definitely not be a contributory factor when assessing eating disorders, and in particular bulimia nervosa.

I am, of course, aware that doctors must have some means to determine the severity of an eating disorder. May I suggest the patient’s weight before their ED began as opposed to now, how quickly they have lost weight, how long they have been indulging in dangerous behaviours and to what extent it is affecting their lives? May I also suggest looking at them, with their eyes? Just a thought.

I Like Big Butts & I Cannot Lie.....

2010-01-19T05:00:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year! And the beauty debate has kicked off once more, even more ferociously and controversially in a new decade.

On 16th January 2010, BBC Cambridge invited me on their Drive Time show to discuss two pertinent stories emerging today.

The first is news that UK health experts have confirmed that having large hips or bottom in fact makes you healthier than your less curvaceous counterparts, with hip fat being proven to “mop up” harmful cells which can cause metabolic diseases.

The second is a summary of the recent “Curvelution” which has been happening in the fashion industry, what with British designer Mark Fast controversially using size 12 and 14 women to model his new line (which subsequently sold out in record time) during Fashion Week, American style magazine V devoting an issue to plus size glamour and the surge in popularity of Crystal Renn (whose book I am currently reading and can confirm without hyperbole that since she is incredibly intelligent, articulate and witty in addition to being undeniably gorgeous and is therefore a Goddess).

So, what conclusions did you arrive at, I hear you eagerly enquire (silently)?

The BBC article (you know, the one about bottoms) has brought into the public sphere the important issue of proportion. Ok, so they are looking at it from a physical health point of view but it’s also important psychologically. When I bring my body confidence campaign to schools and colleges, I tell the students that the most pointless thing they can do is compare their bodies with those of their peers. Yet we do it all the time, usually taking into account only weight and dress size, not making allowances for the hugely influential factors of shape, bone structure, height and proportion. We are a unique combination of an infinite number of physical variants and should therefore set our own, personalised standard for beauty.

As an ambassador for the national campaign Body Gossip and a plus size model myself, I wholeheartedly applaud the use of larger models in high fashion and it was therefore difficult for me to comprehend the backlash. Plus size models were said to encourage our increasingly sedentary lifestyle, promote obesity and encourage gluttony. The comments made online by the public revealed two distinct and dangerous misconceptions. The first is that thin is automatically synonymous with a healthy lifestyle – Thin people exercise and watch what they eat and fat people sit on the sofa all day scoffing cake. As the BBC article clearly evidences, thinner does not necessarily equal healthier. We should also take heed of the difference in people’s metabolic rates and body types. It is simply not possible to make sweeping judgments about people’s lifestyle and diet simply from making a visual assessment.

The second misconception is that there are two choices – skinny or obese, without taking into account that there is a huge spectrum of beauty in the middle. Crystal Renn is a size 16, yes. She is also nearly 6 foot tall, toned, with an hourglass shape and very little body fat and yet she is put under the “plus size” umbrella. “Plus Size” is actually anything over a UK size 8 and merely refers to someone trying to present an alternative to the frankly emaciated frames of your average catwalk model (who represent less than 1% of the global population, as a natural body shape).

It is not a question of choosing a camp or allying yourself with a “side”. The war is not a question of “thin people” vs “fat people” but of a community dedicated to promoting health and happiness against one fixed notion of beauty which induces low self esteem in anyone who falls outside it. All people of all shapes and sizes should be given the gift of having a role model they can realistically aspire to, without jeopardizing their health.

Twiggy-v- My Mum! Another Slice of the Beauty Debate

2010-01-19T04:58:00.000-08:00

I will remember 2009 for two reasons.

It was the year that an email I sent really quite casually, in retrospect, turned out to completely shape the course of my life. I emailed Mark Newey, who’d freed me of a life life-crippling decade long battle with bulimia nervosa about a year earlier and I’d now come to think of as a friend, with a general life update, complaining that I had been made redundant from my job in the City. He said “why don’t you come and work for me?”……..

It was also the year I launched my Body Confidence Campaign in schools. When you consider that, in August, the campaign was merely an embryo of an idea, based on my desire to prevent younger people following the same path as me and developing a potentially life threatening eating disorder, it is astounding how quickly it has gained momentum.

The campaign has given me the chance to speak to hundreds of people aged between 11 and 18 and get their vital perspective on the beauty debate. The controversial subject of airbrushing was, therefore, something that I’d always considered from a teenage perspective, my point being that airbrushing is so prevalent and normalized now that, in fact, anyone under the age of 18 cannot differentiate between an airbrushed image and a real one and conclude, understandably, that if they do not match up to this impossible standard there must be something fundamentally wrong with them.

However, December 16th 2009's headlines included a story which made me consider airbrushing from a fresh angle: An ad campaign for eye cream featuring Twiggy has been retracted because it was airbrushed to the extent that it constituted false advertising. I was asked to give my opinion on BBC Radio Essex. The pictures would have appeared in publications aimed at a more mature demographic – So, what with the rise of airbrushing occurring very obviously during their adult lifetime, shouldn’t older women know better than to compare themselves to a digitally enhanced image? And if they immediately dismiss the image as unattainable and ridiculous, does it follow that they are immune to any detrimental affect on their self esteem?

There was only one thing for it, I was going to have to ask my Mum.

The thing about my Mum is that she is stunning. I know everyone thinks their Mum is beautiful, but I’ve had my opinion verified by a plethora of independent adjudicators in the form of friends, boys I fancied at school and randoms whose jaw hits the floor when she passes them in the street. As a woman who is often defined as being “the beautiful one” it’s therefore so refreshing that Mum doesn’t feel it’s necessary to embark on a quest for never ending youth, like many of her peers. She has never had botox, fillers or any kind of invasive surgery (she just believes in a decent night cream and touché eclait) and she manages to dress in a way that I often describe as “the right side of funky”. So I was intrigued to hear her thoughts on the whole Twiggy related debacle……

Mum conceded that, yes, there was a part of her mind that looked at airbrushed images of older women and immediately recognised that they in no way pertained to reality, BUT, even in a woman such as herself, they did induce a niggling insecurity. The fact is that, however illogical, older women DO still feel an obligation to try and match up to their celebrity counterparts and what with the increasing availability and affordability of surgical procedures, many are opting to inject their faces with poison rather than give into age gracefully.

The issue is also that the young people to whom I referred earlier and who aren’t so tuned in to the subtleties of airbrushing expect middle aged women to look like airbrushed Twiggy. And hearing from your teenage son or daughter that “you’re looking a bit ropey today, Mum” isn’t going to do anything for a woman’s self esteem.

Also, what of future generations of older women? What kind of attitudes are we shaping in them? Ok, the 50 year olds of today might be able to laugh in the face of digital re-touching, but are we not creating a culture of people for whom age is the enemy of beauty and who will go to any, potentially dangerous, lengths to preserve their youth?

I often speak about a "spectrum of beauty" and how every shape and size should be represented in the media to widen our narrow ideals of attractiveness. I’d like to expand that to include a spectrum of ages. It is possible to be older and attractive – not “for your age” and not by attempting to look 20 years younger than you are – but just gorgeous in your own right. Look at Helen Mirren. Look at Joanna Lumley. They make no attempt to hide their wrinkles and yet they are resplendently fabulous and, most importantly, realistically aspirational.

With age comes wisdom, maturity, experience, humility….and wrinkles and, it’s my view that they should all be considered equally sexy.

Shobna Gulati and the Battle Against Negative Body Image

2010-01-19T04:51:00.000-08:00

During the course of my research, I have unearthed a wealth of newspaper, magazine and online articles concerning negative body image. They report on how it’s robbing our children of the liberal abandonment and unadulterated joy that should comprise their infanthoods, how it’s dominating the waking thoughts of every UK woman between the ages of 10 and 60 and how our obsession with aesthetics is causing significant psychological damage and destructive behaviour in an alarmingly large percentage of us.

Body obsession has reached fever pitch, what with plastic surgery promising to transform our lives and celebrities sharing their diet and exercise “secrets”, we have been fooled into believing that Hollywood style beauty has never been so accessible and that we should berate ourselves if we fall short of this standard. The repercussions have been silently festering under our noses for so many years that now the stench has become unbearable and we have all had to sit up and pay attention.

Even despite this, I know how difficult it is to make the decision to go public with your own, private body battle. I did a lot of soul searching before sharing my story in the press and on radio – I couldn’t anticipate the reaction I would receive. The experiences I had during my time in the music industry taught me that the public can be judgmental, body fascist and cruel. Ultimately though, I decided that if I didn’t speak up, not only was I participating actively in a conspiracy of silence but I was doing Mark Newey, who cured me, a huge disservice. I am delighted to say the responses so far have been positive and have encouraged others whose lives were being crippled by bulimia to seek help from Winning Minds.

I resolved to be as candid as I could about bulimia nervosa and it’s physical and psychological effects and in doing so my pride took, not so much a knock but a full on whack, right on the schnozz. That’s why I’ve got so much respect for Shobna Gulati. In a recent article in the Daily Mirror, she describes her body insecurities and the unhealthy relationship she shares with food.

Shobna's "Right On Sister Moment" Award goes to this statement:

"I'm not sure eating disorders are to do with wanting to be lighter. I think in my case it is to do with not wanting to be who I am".

Eating disorder awareness and treatment in many ways hinges on this crucial distinction.

Having met Shobna at Body Gossip, I was left with the impression that she was beautiful, friendly and self assured. I wouldn’t have guessed that underneath this exterior she was battling such powerful demons. I assumed she became involved with the Body Gossip campaign simply because she was a nice lady who wanted to help. She could have let the World believe that too, but she didn’t and she should be applauded for making such a courageous choice.

The overwhelming response to the Body Gossip writing competition and Shobna’s brave admission are testament to the massive extent to which negative body image is a social epidemic, affecting people from all walks of life. Finally, we have recognized it’s destructive effect and now it is our responsibility to counteract it.

Winning Minds are developing a series of pioneering workshops which can permanently transform the mindset and allow you to vanquish body image issues. Negative body image is a kind of slavery and it’s so prevalent that many of us have reconciled ourselves to the idea that it will hold us captive forever. Winning Minds gives you the opportunity to liberate yourself. Go to www.winningminds.co.uk/personal-workshops/ to find out more.

Moss -v- French - The Beauty Debate Continues

2010-01-19T04:50:00.000-08:00

On 3rd December 2009, an article appeared in the Daily Mail which amounted to a scathing and very personal attack on the lovely Ms French for daring to be proud of her fatness.

Whilst there was perhaps some validity in the journalists’ assertion that Dawn cannot call for fat jokes to be banned when she owes a proportion of her career to them, I cannot agree that she is a “bad” role model for young women.

Dawn has carved a hugely successful niche for herself, despite not conforming to the identikit Barbie-style sociological ideal of beauty which has prevailed for so long. She has done so by being talented, witty, intelligent, caring, funny and self deprecating – qualities which I could confidently assert most of us would want to encourage in our children. She is a welcome breath of fresh air in the entertainment industry, an exception to the rule and that is why the weight of counterbalancing the current trend for thinness falls on her shoulders and she is allowed to be a little radical in her views.

In addition to the brilliantly satirical French and Saunders and her other television projects, she is a fantastic writer and has designed a range of flattering, fashionable and altogether gorgeous designs for larger women in an effort to banish the days when anyone over a size 16 was forced to hide in a sack-like smock of a thing, eschewing glamour and embracing shame.

She celebrates her size and makes no apologies for it and, let’s face it, whilst her particular shape might not be the healthiest, I don’t imagine that hoards of teenage girls are going to be looking sorrowfully at their bodies and eating thousands of cream cakes in an attempt to emulate her look every time she appears on TV, the way they vow never to let another morsel of food pass their lips every time they catch sight of Cheryl Cole or Kate Moss. Dawn’s images are not plastered all over the walls of eating disorder clinics up and down the country and her words are not repeated like mantras by those whose life’s ambition it has become to recreate her look, unlike other celebrities I could mention.

If Dawn disappeared from the public eye overnight, we would not see a steep decline in obesity rates in this country. Obesity exists. It's not ideal but it does. And saying that we do not want to see an example of obesity in the form of Dawn on our television screens is not only denying a large percentage of the population a fabulous role model but is also the adult equivalent of sticking one's fingers in one's ears and saying "la-la-la-la-la not listening".

If you choose to be overweight, or have a larger shape due to a medical condition, Dawn presents an empowering role model that inspires confidence and happiness. She demonstrates that fat and beautiful are not mutually exclusive. And for every Dawn there are a hundred bony, botoxed, plastic princesses. The fact that Dawn’s comments have caused such scandal is testament to the fact she has become so respected, against all odds. And what can we say to that other than “good for her”?

Dawn's stance is reactionary. If we were not all so obsessed with her size and let her get on with being the brilliant and talented woman she is, she would not have to defend herself with potentially offensive comments. Lest we forget, Kate Moss' recent comment – "nothing tastes as good as skinny feels" was in responce to the question "what is your motto?". Her motto in LIFE. Not with particular regard to her appearance but generally. Her answer is a sad testament to the extent to which Kate's physique is the sum of her parts. I highly doubt Dawn's life motto would relate to her physical appearance in any way. She has far too many other attributes and concerns.

I am left with the question, though – What about the huge spectrum of beauty in the middle? Most of us are somewhere between Kate Moss and Dawn French and to whom do we turn for a positive and inspiring role model? One might cite Beyonce or Jennifer Lopez and whilst I applaud the manner in which they fly the flag for the curvacious, they are still far tinier than you could ever imagine in the flesh and still devote a huge and disproportionate chunk of their lives to maintaining their physique. Like the Clover advert says “it’s great in the middle” and the middle is being neglected. The middle needs to be represented and given a voice.

Please visit www.bodygossip.org and join the revolution.