I hear tell that the ‘skinny trend’ is back. With it a theory that is not new, but is perhaps just occurring to some. Namely, that when women begin to believe in their power skinny returns to divert & exhaust our energies.
I don’t disagree entirely. The preoccupation with the size and appearance of women is certainly rooted in control. As Naomi Wolf wrote ‘a culture fixated on female thinness is not an obsession about female beauty, but an obsession about female obedience’. Now, of course we can add the money to be made from convincing vast swathes of the population that they must lose weight. So, yes, thin is a tool to distract and diminish. The rest of the story is, it never goes away.
As a fat woman I know that skinny is never a trend. Thin has been the beauty standard my entire life. The degree of thinness may change, but fat is never the societal goal. The body positive movement has certainly made strides, but we are far from the majority opinion. As fat voices began to break through the message was quickly diluted. Brands adopted body liberation for cache without actually using diverse models or really extending their sizes. An hour glass white women with a flat stomach in a size 18 is not fat representation. Likewise, all the straight sized chicks contorting their bodies to create a fat roll is not #bopo. Meanwhile actual fat bodies are censored on social media. We aren’t even permitted to be centred in our own movement. Which makes it difficult for me to see when thin wasn’t in.
I was a teen in 90’s. I lived through heroin chic and I’m not convinced it felt substantially different to any other point in my timeline. I was slim then, but I never felt small enough. A feeling that stayed with me throughout my various size incarnations until my 30’s. I have observed no change in weight stigma over that time. The consensus has always been that fat is unhealthy & unattractive. Skinny has been the ideal whether Kate Moss or Kim Kardashian was reigning supreme.
No one is changing their diet or taking supplements to gain fat. There have never been articles in magazines advising how to quickly get a belly. Fat women have always faced discrimination across the board. We were & remain pilloried in media and life. A slight shift in the type of thin body most desired is not substantive. It is the same control, in a moderately tweaked package.
The real difference is perspective. If you have the privilege of living in a societally accepted body, the return of super skinny feels like a threat. Now you’re going to be pressured to shrink. You will see your image represented less. In short, you’re going to notice. Personally it makes no difference if the ideal is size 0 or size 12. I’m always too big. I will always be perceived negatively by many people. I don’t relish the return of a romanticised gaunt aesthetic. I’m just saying what all fat women know, the skinny trend is perpetual.
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I got an email from photobucket. Actually, I got several that I had ignore because I had more pressing issues. I should have continued pressing because opening the 12th email and clicking that link was a mistake.
Amongst page after page of self harm photos I found pictures of a girl I don’t fully remember. I don’t know why I say a girl, I was a woman. I seem more like a lost girl, though. I look like someone who wants to disappear. I was someone in the process of vanishing. Looking at those photos hurt. It’s painful to see how desperately Ill and unhappy I was. Even more agonising to realise how much the world approves of that version of me. A person who hated themselves so much they wouldn’t eat properly & spilling their own blood felt reasonable. But hey, look how I thin I was.
I lost ridiculous amounts of weight in a very short time. I started with what I believed to be a very reasonable calorie restriction. A nice round number that I saw in magazines & tv shows. The weight came off quickly. People around me were pleased. I enjoyed the positive reinforcement. Everything else in my life was a disaster, I liked doing something that everyone was happy about. I also liked my discipline; how strict I could be. I began to relish the hunger pangs and how good I was at ignoring them. When the weight loss slowed I reduced the calories. I limited how many each meal could contain. I couldn’t eat before or after certain times. I filled up on Diet Coke. I had ‘fast’ days and just eat veg days. Rules piled up and weight fell off.
I did this more than once. The weight loss was never maintainable. Each time I started again I believed I would just follow a ‘healthy’ diet. Every attempt at lifestyle change descended into extreme behaviour. The only people who questioned this were the few who’d had their own food issues. I assured them I was ok. This weight loss was good for me. I wasn’t doing anything crazy, in fact I felt so much healthier. I’m sure the believed (or almost did) me because I didn’t think I was lying. I honestly thought the means justified the ends. Being fat was horrible. I was disgusting, I ate too much and it was terrible for me. Having some restraint was improving my body inside and out. I knew I was fudging the details a little, but I really didn’t think I was doing anything dangerous. I did eat. I very rarely threw up. The things left in my diet were all ‘good’ foods. The congratulations rolled in. Besides, I wasn’t even very thin.
I don’t even blame the people who did all the high fiving. They knew I had been unhappy with my bigger body. Those close to me knew how appalling my mental health was. It looked to the outside world like I was doing something good for myself. I seemed more confident, more at peace with my body. Of course we all live in diet culture. Thinner bodies are better. I understand why my weight loss was something to celebrate.
The professionals are another story. They should have known better. I was so very Ill. I was in regular contact with all manner of Drs. My self harm was out of control. I was getting stitched up multiple times a week. The blood loss was wreaking havoc. I had angina attacks, constantly passed out. No sooner was a blood transfusion in than I was working on getting it back out. I had already started to experience the problems that led to pancreatitis. They watched my weight rapidly drop. Climb back up. Then fall off again. Not a single medical professional ever thought to question that. They were the opposite of worried. I was praised. They loved seeing the change on the scale. I was explicitly told how good this shrinking was for me. I didn’t even lie about how I was doing it. I’d joke with nurses about ‘just not eating’. I explained my calorie restrictions and the extent of my diet to Drs. It was all excellent. Keep up the good work. Well, done you!
Even the mental health teams I was working with didn’t raise any alarms. We only ever talked about my weight loss in positive terms. They were glad it was helping my self esteem. There was never any in depth conversation about how I really felt, what I was doing or why. There should have been. They knew my history and my problems. There are so many links between self harm & disordered eating. Control being the most obvious. The triggers for the behaviours can be the same; shame, self hatred, feeling a failure, punishment. They can achieve similar results like a feeling of release or a sense of achievement. My self harm was compulsive and so was the weight loss. I was atoning and deleting the parts of me I despised. The only real difference between the two was how acceptable it was to want to be thin.
As I write this I recognise all the signs of an eating disorder. Yet I cannot accept that diagnosis fits. I can admit I had an unhealthy relationship with food. I know I used extreme methods to lose weight, but disordered eating is as far as I can allow myself to go. Intellectually I know why. I was never dangerously thin. In the midst of it I didn’t ever believe I was thin at all. Those old pictures were shocking because I have no recollection of being as slim as that person. I began my diets fat. Eventually I always returned to fat. That’s why no one ever considered an ED a possibility. It remains why I could never accept the label. For all my learning and activism there is an internalised fat phobia that I’m not sure I will ever shake.
I have compassion for my former self. I am angry at the people who should have helped me. I am happier in my fat body than I ever could have dreamed of in my dieting days. I don’t want to go back. Nor do I want to be smaller. I do however still hold this feeling that I have no right to talk about myself in certain ways. I feel fake. Despite knowing all that I know, I still can’t change the feeling that it wasn’t bad enough for an official title.
That realisation is painful. It hurts to know that nothing has really changed. There are people in the same situation right now. The medical community is still exceptionally fat phobic. If you are fat, disordered eating is encouraged. Prescribed, even. We’re still insisting people fall below a certain BMI before they can be referred for treatment. The fact that Drs are even using BMI is in itself horrendous. People are hurting themselves and the world loves it.
This is why body liberation is essential. It is so much deeper than loving one’s body. Weight stigma is systemic. Built right into the places we are supposed to turn to for help. Fat phobia is in us all. It is insidious and deadly. We all deserve better.
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Something in the way she moves... 
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