I am really moved by the post The circle of shame by Gemma Louisa Morrison posted at the f word blog. I have reread it several times, and I find something deeper to touch me each time.
My own experience of dieting began aged five, watching my mother cook things she’d never eat, buy biscuits whose sweet cloying texture would never grace her lips. It progressed, when at age 14, I went to a ‘Slimming Club’ meeting in our local town hall to wait for a lift home after a hockey match. I sat on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs and watched the women, heads cast downwards as they walked to the scales. There were only women on the plastic chairs, some with babies on their laps, some young, some old. Glossy magazines with their thin white cover girls lay sprawled lazily around the room.
And then I saw her. She was a small English woman, with a tiny, meek voice. To my adolescent eyes she looked ill, her head too big for her body, her hair frail and wild. She was the woman with the power; standing beside the scales she told the others that they occupied too much space in the world. Her voice was small and spiteful. I remember vividly looking around the hall for adult dissent but the women clutched their dieting books and gazed at the scales in horrified wonder.
This was my initiation into life as a woman;
I hope you will read it all, including the call to action. Come back here and let me know what you think.