Dysmorphic Despair...

I've just sat and watched Gok Wan's new show, "Gok's Teens: The Naked Truth".  Now everyone who knows me will know that I hold Auntie Gok in the highest of esteem - indeed, not only do I think he's the nation's Fairy Gokmother, I think he ought to be listed as some sort of national treasure - and so if there's anyone out there who could work miracles on the self-confidence of the UK's teenagers, it's Gok.  That said, I've rarely felt so sad watching a TV programme (the finale of Being Human series 3 and David Tennant's last scenes as Doctor Who don't count - everyone knows how traumatic they were...)

One of the things that really saddened me about the show was the story of the two girls.  One of them developed anorexia at 14 and was now a year into her recovery, still battling the negative thoughts and the guilt her illness brought with it.  The other was 15 and obsessed with the fact she didn't look 'perfect' like the models in magazines and on the websites; she also looked at the so-called 'pro-ana/thinspiration' websites and airbrushed all the photos she took of herself to make herself look thinner.  It absolutely broke my heart - they were both incredibly pretty young girls and yet one was struggling with the guilt her anorexia caused while the other, who was perfectly slim and healthy looking, fretted because she didn't have a gap between her thighs when she stood up straight.  Now I've seen those so-called 'thinspiration' pro-anorexia websites because I did some research on them while at college and they made me feel physically sick.  How anyone could accept that these images are anyone's ideal is beyond me, but it just goes to show both how overpowering anorexia can be and how much pressure these young girls feel under.  It's why I greatly admire Isabelle Caro, the young French model who died in November last year from anorexia; she was very open about her batle with the disease and used the shocking photos of herself to both promote discussion and to warn women and girls about the dangers of the disease.  She was 28 when she died as a result of 'complications' of the illness, which is just a shocking and tragic waste of a life.  When Gok took both of these girls under his wing and made them feel better about themselves, I just wanted to cry and give them both a big hug, to tell them that they are beautiful, just as they are.

That said, however, I've fought my own battles with body dysmorphia, although luckily - and thankfully - it was never as bad as some of the cases I've heard about and was never serious enough to develop into an eating disorder.  That didn't make it any less traumatic to deal with.  I've never completely opened up about it before but having seen Gok's programme - and then watching the documentary about the remarkable, courageous and inspiring Katie Piper - I feel like now's the time to get to grips with it and put a few ghosts to rest...of course this is only dealing with the external side of things - I long ago gave up on the bizarre inner workings of human bodies in general and mine in particular, but the external stuff is what caused me the problems back then and it's those which need to be addressed...

So...The Body.  There was a time, even a few years ago, when I barely looked in the mirror.  Couldn't stand it.  I wasn't pretty, I wasn't thin - although conversely I also managed to simultaneously hate my lack of curves - and frankly the mere sight of myself depressed me beyond belief.  I hated my stomach because it wasn't totally flat, and I hated my boobs because they weren't big enough.  It got to the point where I started limiting what I ate and weighing myself every chance I got, not seriously enough to develop into a full-blown obsession with food that could tip over into anorexia, but enough that I'm sure some people, especially my mum, noticed the weight start creeping off.  At 17 I went on the pill for health reasons and was overjoyed when I put weight on and developed curves of some sort, then I had to stop taking it and the curves vanished again.  I'd look at images of Kate Winslet, Liv Tyler and other 'celebrity' women I admired and wish I looked like them; I used to write lengthy notebook entries about how I wished I was taller/thinner/prettier/curvier/more toned/had bigger boobs; that's when it got to the point where I stopped looking in the mirror.  It wasn't worth it.  I hated what stared back at me.  I was constantly comparing myself to other girls who were pretty/curvy/whatever and always came up short.  Solution: ignore the mirror, pretend you don't exist and, in your head, think Veronica Lake.  When in doubt, make believe; that was why I went through so many different 'incarnations' of myself as a teenager - for example, wearing low slung combat trousers which showed my underwear and piling on the lipliner so I could look like Lita from WWE wrestling; because I wasn't happy with myself I tried to be other people, or at least take parts of them to try and make them my own.

That was then.  Thankfully, my external body and my brain have come to a sort of uneasy truce and we tend to get along much better these days.  Oh don't get me wrong, I'd still kill to look like Kate Winslet did when she was in Titanic, but my brain has slowly come around to the idea that - short of some sort of black magic to transplant me into her body - it ain't ever gonna happen.  And I'm ok with that.  My body is what it is and I look the way I do and that's that.  We've reached a sort of peaceful resolution with each other which, while surprising and sometimes needing a bit of reinforcement, seems to be holding firm the older I get.

Obviously I didn't undergo this sort of Damascene Conversion overnight, nor did I reach such conclusions of my own accord.  It's been a faltering road, with many a muttered "oh, don't be so ridiculous" along the way.  My mum, bless her, has always tried to boost me up but, as a grotty teenager and then a marginally less grotty young adult, my default position was, "well, you're my mother; of course you're going to tell me I'm cute/pretty/beautiful/whatever".  But slowly, slowly the seeds were planted.  I always had a bit of a soft spot for my eyes; when one of the guys I used to work with told me they reminded him of the 'Heroes' titles, we nick-named them my "end of the world" eyes and they became my favourite feature.  He also had a habit of complimenting me on a regular basis, determined to make me accept that I was more than I thought I was; it took a while, but eventually I was able to accept the odd compliment without resorting to "oh, don't be so ridiculous!"  Thanks, Frankie - I must have been a pain in the arse and a huge work in progress, but you put me back on the right track.  It meant that by the time my ex-boyfriend told me he thought I was gorgeous, I started to believe it.

The rest of my body and I came to our ceasefire over time as well.  I fully accept I could stop eating chocolate and do 100 sit-ups a night in order to get myself a totally flat stomach, but frankly I tried this once and lasted two days.  Life's too short for sit-ups, and sometimes a girl needs chocolate.  I may never have the dead-flat abs of an Angelina Jolie-type, but I guess it's not that bad all things considered.  Where my lack of curves is concerned...well, I'll never be Dita von Teese or Veronica Varlow (more's the pity) but if I cheat a bit a la Auntie Gok and cinch myself in at the waist with my trusty waspy belt, I can pass for having curves.  As to my boobs...well, this one's a bit of an ongoing battle, to be honest.  There are still days - even in the face of this god-awful PIP scandal - when I maintain that the first thing I'll do if I win the lottery (besides paying off my debts) is book myself in for a boob job; not to go crazy and end up like Jordan (now there's a body dysmorphic disorder case if I ever saw one) but just to go a bit bigger and more even.  There are other days when I look at them and think, "well, small is beautiful, they're all mine and it means I can get into really small tops without looking like a slag".  These are the days when I give thanks to the man who invented the Wonderbra and carry blithely on.  We may come to a suitable solution one day but, for the time being, we carry on see-sawing along and seem to be coping quite well.  My body, externally at least, is no longer my enemy; I can look in the mirror these days without hating myself and, thanks to a few hints and tricks I picked up along the way, I can find ways to make myself look and feel halfway decent.  I still have a tendency to be a bit of a magpie where my dress sense is concerned, but I tend to know what looks good on me now and dress accordingly.  And as for Auntie Gok's eternal question, asked at the end of every emotional 'journey' he goes on with the show's participants - "do you look good naked" - well, thanks to my wonderful mother I have a visual reminder that, actually, I look bloody amazing...

I never in a million years thought I would ever, ever have the balls to do something like this, but I'm so proud of myself for doing it and am seriously considering doing it again when my friend and I go for a similar photo shoot next month.  And the great thing is, every time I have a bit of a wobble about how I look, I can look at these photos and say, "actually, girlie, you do look pretty good".  It's a confidence booster for sure.

Watching this programme I was struck by the number of young girls who were constantly comparing themselves to models in magazines or celebrities.  The rise and rise of the celebrity magazine, which seems to constantly monitor the weight of various famous women (never men, I notice, even though anorexia and bulimia are on the rise among teenage boys and young men) has only added to the pressure on young girls, and I don't know whether it makes me sad or angry or both.  I know how hard it can be accepting how you look in your own skin, and my problems were nowhere near as bad as other people's, but that was tough enough.  When you're bombarded by images of 'perfection' it must be nigh on impossible to look in the mirror and accept that you, Miss Average and Normal, are never going to look like the immaculately made-up and airbrushed women you see in adverts or on magazine covers.

I don't know what the answer is.  I wish I did, because I've seen what eating disorders do to people - when I was 14 one of my friends died as a result of complications of anorexia - and it saddens me to think there are so many young girls out there who should be having the time of their lives yet can only focus on fitting in and looking 'perfect'.  The contrast between that show and the one which followed it, about the former model and presenter Katie Piper who was scarred horrendously in an acid attack orchestrated by her ex-boyfriend and who has courageously and publicly gone about rebuilding her life, was poignant.  I know who I'd want any putative daughter of mine looking up to, that's for sure...

So I'll keep facing my own body demons when they rear their ugly little heads, and I want to do my own bit as well.  So I will say this, and it goes out to any girl or woman reading this blog.  Actually, it goes out to ANYONE reading this blog, because I know full well how body dysmorphia can affect men as well as women.  And what I say is this: I know you have days when you can't stand to look in the mirror because you hate what you see, and I know you feel you will never, ever look like this celebrity or that model in the magazines.  That's because they spend 3 hours in make-up and are then airbrushed to within an inch of their lives.  They don't look like that normally because such things are impossible.  But you are the only person in the world who looks, thinks and acts like YOU; you are an individual, a one-off, a remarkable creation full of magic and mystery and you DESERVE to be happy.  And I think you're gorgeous.  Find one thing, just one thing, about yourself that you know makes you feel good - I, for example, will always fall back on my 'end of the world' eyes if the going gets tough - and hold onto it for dear life.  Never let anyone tell you you're not beautiful because you ARE.  You are beautiful in your uniqueness and for that I salute each and every single one of you.