There comes a time when, suddenly, telling someone your weight or even just weighing yourself feels hurtful, or shameful. I used to think this was nonsense, as even I, an ex-fashion model who was never able to GET the skinny bod, didn’t care about a scale number. I used to battle against those shallow feelings of fear by casually screaming how much I weighed to everyone who was close enough to listen. My way of pretending I didn’t care was ‘shocking’ the world with my enormous stack of pounds, hoping that I could make other girls feel better about themselves. Only the truth was that my shocking numbers weren’t so shocking and it was just my brain being a huge ass.
Yes. However comfortable I thought I was, I wasn’t. It only made sense when I gained a few more of those pounds and I felt the restrained notion of scale-hurt. I am brainwashed. We are all brainwashed. The fact that any number of pounds can make us feel emotionally damaged, though it does nothing to hurt us physically, is weird. Sure, if you’re obese and walking somewhere is an issue, you should go see your GP, but little bobbles of fat in cliché places shouldn’t change your mood. Whenever I realise this, it makes me think about how hard society is on the appearance of women and how much I want to fucking rebel against it.READ MORE