November 25th, 2009 by I’m skinny to the point of scrawn. If I were a drink I’d be a skinny latte – all froth and no flavour, at least that’s how it feels sometimes. I, therefore, have a mixed reaction to Kate Moss’s latest revelation that “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels”.
I’m sure Ms Moss’s toned tongue was firmly in her cheek but even if it wasn’t, she is in the pole position to speak out on the side of svelte, isn’t she? It’s certainly got the less than skinny, or should I say ‘more than’ skinny sourpusses in a bit of a spin, which in turn has repercussions on the likes of me.
My weight has always fluctuated. Eons ago I chomped on cheesy pizzas and schnitzel while acting in Germany before going onto the States where, as a Camp America Counsellor, I ran (and sat) about eating fries and cookies. I returned home after a year looking “meaty”, as a friend put it.
A few years, and fewer pastries later, a bolshy, bitter and bosomy old Swiss relative of my ex took one look at my holiday snaps and remarked, disparagingly, that I had ‘tits like a Chinaman’.
In my eight-year, sedentary office job I constantly snacked on nuts, cakes and crisps; coupled with a three-hour daily commute which was rarely without its ‘nourishments’ I was a contented size 12.
At the age of thirty-eight babies and breastfeeding took their toll on my physique. I wouldn’t have changed a thing – apart from other people’s attitude to me; an attitude which I am still dealing with, four years on.
Within weeks of giving birth I had gone from a gloriously rosy-cheeked, soft-edged, sexy mother-to-be, to a sinewy, pallid mum with no stomach, energy or muscle tissue to speak of and the response I got was far from supportive.
Friends gasped when they saw me and I shivered with shame to think that weeks earlier I had been one of those ham-hacks who slated the likes of Victoria Beckham or Nicole Kidman for their unbelievable post pregnancy weight loss which, like the rest of us, I attributed to some maniacal fitness and dieting regime.
It was hard to cope with back then because of the vulnerability I was feeling at becoming a mum so late in life. I felt for GMTVs Kate Garraway when her post-pregnancy body came under scrutiny and my new body shape is one I am still learning to live with.
‘Friends’ don’t hold back. I couldn’t work out if they were genuinely concerned or just resentful of the fact they still had their ‘tums’. To me they look beautiful and blooming. I cannot understand why everyone’s so obsessed with skinny when I never felt as beautiful as when I had curves.
I still get friends, who know how hard it has been for me to put on weight, telling me to “eat more” and “there’s nothing of you” and “you’re so scrawny – you need to eat some fat girl”, like I am on a strict air-only diet. I LOVE FOOD.
I’d never go up to them and say: “Oi Chubs, cut out the alcohol and chips and you might get into those ‘skinny’ jeans you so admire.” Why is it ok for me to take their flak?
Paranoid, and slightly post-natally depressed, I asked my Doctor to send me for tests. If everything was so positive, why was I feeling so negative?
It’s rubbish to blame it on what men really want because, from my experience, they want to snuggle up to boobs that feel soft and squeeze a bum that has more fat on it than ‘body butter’.
I am annoyed with myself for being bothered because little bothers me more than the relentless pursuit women seem to have to have to find the ‘perfect’ body. TV shows, websites, magazines: we blame ‘the media’ but we buy into it. What we need to do is start supporting our sisterhood – or it will disappear into, sorry girls, thin air.
