Now I realise I may well be establishing a reputation as a columnist with a penchant for sensationalist headlines here, but this time I really think I’m right. No really. I’ve given it some thought (shocker) and have come to the conclusion that skinniness effectively equates to a kind of modern leprosy in our increasingly body-conscious society.
You’d be forgiven for wanting to slap me round the face with a wet kipper at this point and pontificate loudly that “in actual fact” our society worships at the altar of the skinny. However, what critics such as Courtney E Martin and Marya Hornbacher pinpoint as the promotion of an “iconography of anorexia” is only one thread in our culture’s veritable web of body-fascism.
My first clue pointing towards the widespread nature of skinny bashing came when I was primping and preening before going out to celebrate my birthday. Thinking aloud (a not-unusual side-effect of rosé wine I find...), I muttered, “Gosh I hope my dress fits.” (Yes I really do say gosh. I am well middle class.) Anyway, quite rightly, my flatmate replied bemusedly, “Why wouldn’t it fit?” And I, in my rosé-muddled state, squeaked back, “well it’s a size 6…”
Now I am not normally a size 6. And, from the judgement that followed my throwaway dress-based comment, I am now somewhat glad of this. The media-created size-zero cess-pit would have you believe that everyone desperately wants to be a UK size 4. Conversely, I would argue that such is the extent of the mud that’s been slung at skinny celebs that “skinny” is the last thing anyone wants to be nowadays. Far from being lauded for your slenderness, instead - if you are thin - you will be judged, stigmatized, ostracized and treated as some sort of pariah. In short, the proverbial shit of “size-zero”- and the ugliness it entails - will stick to you.
Certainly this was the case last Tuesday in my shoebox-sized hallway, when it transpired that - after all - the dress did fit. Rather than the admiring looks and awed compliments the media would have you expect a woman in her inaugural size-6 frock to receive, the reaction from my usual entourage of flatmates and yes-men consisted of barely concealed eye-brow raising and a slightly disgusted “I’d never wear a size-6.” Huh. Now think for a moment, what would happen if the situation were altered slightly. Instead of worrying whether or not a size 6 dress would fit, imagine I am a somewhat larger lady who wonders aloud if her new size 16 dress will fit, and discovers it does (just) and nervously showcases it for her friends. Don’t you think the reaction, genuine or otherwise, might have been a little more glowing and reassuring?
If pre-existing opinions being expressed currently on the fat girl/thin girl conundrum were any indication, then I would wager that yes - good gosh yes - they would have been. Not convinced? One of these surprisingly anti-thin attitudes dawned on me quite literally when I was rudely awoken one morning by my boyfriend’s (annoying) phone alarm. Making a not-so pleasant change from the usual ring-tonal delights of the theme tune from Curb Your Enthusiasm and some ode to a girl named Rosemary was the irritatingly catchy “Big Girl (You are beautiful)” by the meerkatesque Mika.
Now this particular song offends me on several counts (early morning grouch aside). Firstly, that aforementioned boyfriend would harbour any affection for such a song when I am, admittedly, not the biggest of girls, and secondly for the fact that it contains the couplet “You take your skinny girl/ I feel like I’m gonna die.” See what I mean? According to Mika, basically, thin girl = leper. And if the wisdom of a Lebanese-born ‘Popette’ isn’t enough for you, how about broadsheet columnist Polly Vernon who confessed that she regularly receives “thin-related hate mail” after having the “audacity” to write about being skinny four years ago?
Vernon and Mika are both openly contributing to the discourse of our collective body-consciousness and it is ever so slightly shocking when you unpick the receptions to their respective contributions. Vernon is reprimanded for being a smug bitch after discussing the upside of being thin, while Mika is hailed as a post-feminist hero for celebrating the larger “real” lady. Never mind the poor skinny girl that physically repulses him or the fact that were his song to be called “Thin Girl (you are beautiful)” he’d be slammed for being the most misogynistic arse-wipe ever to grace T4 on the beach. Well maybe.
The flipside of this chubby-chasing/skinny-snubbing coin is a worrying assumption: that it’s ok to diss the thinnies. Why is it ok? As far as I can see, one can only reasonably conclude that, like play-ground bullying, underneath all the animosity is a (misplaced) sort of jealousy and a conviction that the target must have it so good that they are impervious to the taunts. This is more than a little bit screwy. Fat girls are allowed to insult thin girls because, deep down, fat girls are seen as the underdog in our society. Today people are being increasingly judged upon not just their appearances, but their physical size, and on some elemental level we are convinced that “thin” is an extension of perfect or happy.
Returning to the evening of my birthday celebrations, I was reminded of this firsthand. Dress size controversy aside, later into the festivities on querying the aesthetic merit of some undeniably drunken photos of myself, I was met with the reply “Fuck off, you’re thin.” It occurred to me then and there that this was not the first time a well-meaning friend has uttered something to this effect. It also occurred to me (although not then and there - I was really rather squiffy by now) that this casual “reassurance” is actually very damaging and reductive. On a personal level “Fuck off, you’re thin” unwittingly denies a (not uncommon) host of self-esteem issues and eating-disordered behaviour while sociologically it reduces every scrap of an individual’s self worth to their weight.
Comments such as this can only cause the fissures of our obesity/anorexia paradox to widen and divide. In maintaining our faux anti-thin ethos we are ignoring the real issues, and while we continue to do so we are never going to be able to cut the Gordian knots central to our pandemic body image crisis.
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