At what point does a vague folly become an obsession? This is the question I asked myself as I looked at the little tub of sweet-like tablets that promised 'instant weight loss'. To say I was dubious was an understatement – although the prospect of six tablets a day, and no extra exercise was appealing, I began to seriously regret the money I'd spent on this particular scam. I seem particularly prone to scams - I won't bore you with the numerous other times I've considered online 'guaranteed money' programmes, but somehow I've always been able to resist. I'd always risen above such trivialities… until now. | "I spouted the ideals of a 'normal' shaped girl in an anorexic world, when behind the scenes I willed for my legs to become as thin as my arms" | |
So, I've not always been the most girly girl. That doesn't mean that, like many other 19 year olds in the world, I've not had an unhealthy obsession with my weight. The occasional groan as I stood in front of the mirror in a short skirt was usually the depth of it – where did all that extra fat come from, when I'm sure I only had one extra sausage at dinner? However, as outlined in my last diary entry, I had backed myself into a corner. On June 16th 2006 I had promised that I would spend the entire evening waltzing gracefully around the Grand Opera House stage in a floaty ball gown. The Miss York final drew ever closer… the prospect of the evening just looming on the horizon, hovering out of reach. Morally loose, I hear you cry? De-moralising to women? I can see where you're coming from. The wealth of different reactions I'd encountered made me realise that the 'Anti-Miss World Beauty Pageant' political club was still as active as ever. However, setting out to make a point, and standing up for all the women whose stomachs are not like flat ironing boards, I had promised myself that I would get through the evening, and stick it out with the beautiful blonde girls… no matter how embarrassing it got. And so I found myself here. Feeling more than a little guilty, I began a course of herbal weight loss tablets. Surely, I tell myself, this wouldn't lead to an eating disorder? I'm proud of my body just the way it is, and – as outlined in my last diary entry – the judges are looking for much more than just beauty and flair. I say it, and I believe it. I do. Honestly! It's just… surely losing just a few pounds might help? The last thing I want to do is feel like a whale on stage, and I'm worried that in contrast to the other girls, I'll really be far too curvy!  | | The route to happiness? |
So it started. The religious weighing every morning and evening, eventually becoming up to 4 or 5 times a day. A life revolving around a little tub of tablets that promised something that I didn't believe would happen, nor truly want to happen. A half life where I spouted the ideals of a 'normal' shaped girl in an anorexic world, when behind the scenes I willed for my legs to become as thin as the other girls – namely, as thin as my arms. How is that even biologically possible? Yet an obsession, when started, seems hard to shake off. Looking back, I feel so embarrassed – how true to one's self can you be, when you spend your time willing to conform to a stereotype that you don't even like? Celebrities such as Charlotte Church are a healthy size 12-14 and they look far the better for it. However, they would not survive in a cat walk modelling world, where the 'dog eat dog' scenario exists and the thinnest girls rule the roost. If you don't fit the clothes, you don't get the job! And the clothes just happen to be an unhealthy size 6. Actress Lindsay Lohan lost 3 stone in one year – the peer pressure of Hollywood too much for her to bear… the single curvy girl in a pit of stick insects. But really, this isn't Hollywood. To be blunt, it's thirty seven local girls meeting together for a glitzy evening, watched by proud parents, with potentially disastrously life changing results. Once again, I look for someone to blame for finding myself in this position – not only at the final stages of such a surreal competition, but at such a body esteem low. By this time I had given up on the tablets – the obsessive weighing had become more frantic as my body size seemed to fluctuate more than a normal amount.  | | A curvy Kate during her gap year |
Instead, blaming my teenage appetite to be the root of the problem, I had turned to the famous 'Hoodia Patches' – guaranteed to suppress appetite. Honestly. Slowly, the weight began to drop off, and with each kilogram I took extra strength. I had turned from a girl who was happy and confident with her body, to a girl who was embarrassed to be a normal size with a healthy appetite. Eating disorder? Perhaps it was. Not the textbook ones, such as Anorexia or Bulimia, but an obsession with weight that lead to unhappiness. Who knows how much further it could have gone – I read horror stories about the desperate measures girls take to stay thin – and I shudder as I realise it could easily have been me. It's not easy to come clean like this on such a public website – but even thinking about writing this had more to do with admitting to myself that I needed to change than anything else. I'm happy to say that after a few weeks of intense dieting, the realisation hit me that this was not what I wanted, not what I set out to do, and it was most definitely not something that would make me happy. It was scary to finally glimpse that famous Hollywood peer pressure that I've so often scorned. In the past, as I laughed at celebrities such as Lindsay Lohan for conforming to such a ridiculous stereotype, I could never have dreamt that something as trivial as a local beauty pageant would lead me to a similar frame of mind. It goes to prove in a very daunting way how very easily teenage girls can become obsessed with image and weight. The image that beauty pageants such as Miss York was projecting as 'perfect' – namely stick thin and, in my opinion, gaunt – is not a natural shape for girls. Therefore, what kind of world do we live in where to be beautiful you have to be an unnatural shape? I recently went to Kenya on a gap year trip and was astonished to find that a natural, curvaceous body shape there was seen as much more attractive – in fact, I got an unnatural amount of attention for my shapely legs and wider hips! With the Miss York final looming ever closer, I'm happy to say that rather than lower my self esteem, I came into my own and refused to let such a materialistic, selfish attitude ruin what should be an amazing experience. I threw away that small tub of tablets that, for a while, I believed would be my route to salvation and acceptance. Why should I be ashamed of the way I've been made? How can people be so all consuming as to complain about their bodies, just because that it doesn't fit a stereotype that will probably change in a few years time? So many people in this world do not have the ability to walk, or wear nice clothes, or even to understand that there is a 'perfect' figure. I feel so ashamed that I became so consumed with what is, fundamentally, a Western arrogance. Today, when I look in the mirror, I feel such a pride in my body, a body that has been gifted to me to do what I will, and instead of scrutinising it at every turn I am learning to delight in my individual beauties and quirks. Girls – those models are born with that slender shape, don't throw away your beautiful curves for an acceptance which is shallow and skin deep! Contentment of mind and body will only come as we begin to accept our bodies the way they are… cellulite, spare tyres, and all. Now, someone pass me the biscuits! Kate |
