Every so often, my phone surprises me with a nostalgic ‘memory’ from my photo collection. Usually, I disregard these notifications, but a couple of weeks ago, I received one that actually made me stop and get a little teary-eyed. It wasn’t a snapshot from a memorable vacation or a stunning sunset. No, it was a photo of me standing in a boring women’s restroom. The reason this picture hit me so hard is that it was taken four years ago, marking the last time I was slim and truly happy with my body.
Fed up with being overweight, I had made a New Year’s resolution in 2019 to shed the pounds and reach a size 12 by summer. It was an incredibly difficult journey, restricting myself to 1,200 calories a day for four long months. But the misery was worth it, because when I’m slim, everything in my world is just better.
In today’s era of body positivity, where women are encouraged to embrace their bodies and reject diet culture, many would argue that losing weight to find happiness is wrong. They believe that the issue lies not in the extra pounds, but in society’s unrealistic beauty standards. However, for me, shedding the weight is the key to my personal happiness.
Yes, stores now offer clothing options beyond a size 20 and plus-size models are gaining visibility in the fashion world. But the truth is, I don’t know a single woman, even the strongest feminists, who isn’t happier when she’s slim. Women from all across the UK have expressed similar sentiments about body image.
Recently, Femail magazine featured an article in which writer Susannah Jowitt and her mother shared their contrasting views on body shape. While Susannah revealed that her mother’s obsession with weight actually led her to gain more, her mother admitted that her happiest day at the age of 82 was when she achieved a tiny 24-inch waist. A poll accompanying the article asked Mail readers if being thinner would make them happier, and a staggering 70% said it would. Surprisingly, only 10% disagreed, stating that diets and weight obsession only bring misery.
These results came as no surprise to me. As someone who has struggled with weight fluctuations for two decades, I know for certain that I am always happier, more confident, and more sociable when I am at my slimmest. Over the years, I’ve ranged from a size 8 to a size 18.
When I’m thin, clothes fit and hang on my body beautifully. There’s no annoying muffin top or back fat ruining the look. My face looks better in photos, and I feel at ease when someone wants to take a selfie. Being slim means being healthy, confident, and truly enjoying life.
On the other hand, when I feel fat (for me, that’s a size 14 and up), I am unhappy. I despise the way clothing looks on me, I avoid mirrors, and I withdraw from social interactions, fearing judgment for my weight gain. I even decline invitations to events where I know I’ll feel uncomfortable and self-conscious.
The concept of fat acceptance is not new; it emerged in the 1960s and has evolved over the years. However, it was only with the rise of Instagram that this movement gained traction and turned into activism, with hashtags like #celebratemysize and #EffYourBeautyStandards becoming popular on social media. Activists encourage women to embrace their bodies and reject the diet industry. Unfortunately, in my experience, this movement is rarely celebrated in the real world, especially among my peers.
I’m grateful for the body positivity movement, but I often find myself longing to be a part of it. While I don’t support promoting obesity, which is unhealthy and limiting, I believe that accepting women of all shapes and sizes should be celebrated. Yet, in reality, it rarely is.
Living in the era of social media, the body positivity movement has mostly resonated with Generation Z, who grew up seeing larger bodies being celebrated. Sometimes, I come across a younger, overweight woman confidently rocking a crop top or a short skirt, and I can’t help but admire her for rejecting the notion that certain fashions are exclusive to slim bodies.
I wish I could feel the same. It saddens me to think about the time and energy women devote to worrying about their body shapes. However, if you’ve reached half a century of life and knowing that being slim is a significant factor in your happiness, no individual or movement has the right to deny that or make you feel guilty or shallow for desiring to be lighter. Focusing on my weight doesn’t diminish my concern for women’s rights.
Despite efforts to make women feel content with their bodies, I firmly believe that if you gave any overweight woman the chance to take a magic pill and wake up thin, 99 out of 100 would seize the opportunity. The global weight-loss industry, valued at £370 billion, exists for a reason. Women want to be slim.
Today, the blue chinos I wore in the ladies’ restroom photo still hang in my wardrobe, awaiting the day I can button them up again. I haven’t thrown them away because I’ve made a promise to myself to lose the weight once more. I’ve set a goal for Christmas, and if I achieve it, I know it will be a joyful holiday.
Here are the opinions of three readers on their weight:
‘Nothing beats having a flat stomach.’
– Jessica Vihkrlson, 42, Personal Assistant
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