Zero

I started writing this post in my head last night as I was drifting off to sleep, so it may seem a little disjointed. Last night, it seems Wondy and I had the same telly night! I too watched Louise Redknapp on The Truth About Size Zero. It was really interesting and exposed the quest for such ridiculously tiny proportions as the opposite of glamorous. She was unable to take any pleasure from anything in her life, became moody and lethargic, and was physically sick. By the end of the show, she fit into a size zero dress they had sent over from LA. It was the goal she had been working towards throughout the programme, working out in the gym with the dress hung where she could see it as motivation. The moment she put it on was totally anti climactic. She looked emaciated and depressed. You could see the bones in her back like a tiny little sardine spine. Then she changed out of the dress and threw it in the bin before heading out for dinner with her girl friends, and looked happy for the first time since the beginning of the show.

What made me angry was that there were a couple of photographers and personal trainers that were spurring her on and telling her that she looked great, when she looked really unhealthy and miserable. One photographer applauded her new sleeker lines, comparing her to a Porsche. She was a UK size 4! That's skin and bone. It's so dangerous. I've done a lot of reading on anorexia nervosa for the work I'm doing on my dissertation, and some psychoanalysts suggest that eating disorders represent a desire for oblivion, nothingness, a loss of autonomy. Who would ever encourage somebody to starve themselves into oblivion?

It also made me think about my relationship with my own body. I'm happy with my body shape. Sure, my tummy could be flatter, my boobs could be bigger, my legs could be longer, and so on, but overall I'm not too worried, even though my weight can fluctuate. My insecurities lie elsewhere - it's fair to say, I hate the way I look. During the height of the Alfie debacle, I lost a bit of weight, because I was in a constant state of anxiety and found it impossible to finish a meal. I've put it all back on since, but there was a point when my skinny jeans hung off me, and would have fallen down if I didn't wear a belt. They're still a little baggy. What's crazy, and I hate to admit it even, is that sometimes I look back and think, it would be great if I could drop that weight so fast again. Let me just repeat something: I was in a constant state of anxiety and found it impossible to finish a meal. I enjoy food; I think it's one of life's greatest pleasures, and the one thing me and Boyf do have in common is that we both love eating out in restaurants and filling our faces. So if even someone who feels generally happy with their figure can feel the pressure to be thinner, I can't imagine the pressure on someone who is naturally a bigger shape and made to feel bad about it.

And with that, I am off to dunk a Dairy Milk into a cup of tea!