Inside every big woman, it is said – the polite version – is a small woman trying to get out. Sexist, perhaps, but I don’t think there is a single western woman who doesn’t worry about some aspect of her body, be her shape, size, looks, facial hair or whatever. I daresay there are plenty of men who are exactly the same, but for many women it is extreme. I don’t know how many magazines and other periodicals are on sale around the world which cash in on this form of fear, on these worries, but I get to see them adorning the middle shelves of newsagents and kiosks every single day, and it makes me sad to think that so many women – and men – fall into the beauty trap.
And it is a trap. We are all marketed by the fashion industry, by magazines and various television shows with the sole aim of selling something to us which often really isn’t what we either need or what fits our character, our appearance. So many diet products, so many different programs to lose weight, and then the fear that people will be either too fat or too thin. There seems to be no middle line, no safe haven where a person can be happy with themselves as they are and know that other people accept them for what they are, who they are and how they really look.
The health problems are not just due to people being over weight, according to the standards of our present society, but from people taking the wrong actions to combat a perceived failing; constantly going on diets and changing what they eat rather than simply getting up and doing a little bit of ordinary sport.
Why does society force this picture of the ideal woman upon us and, more to the point, why are we so feeble that we accept it?
Admittedly I would never consider taking an over weight woman as a lover, but appearance isn’t everything and there are so many factors which need to be considered about a person before we simply write them off as being too fat, or too lazy, slovenly, ugly or whatever.
Sometimes I just want to take the people behind these diets, magazines and programs by the throat and shake a little bit of sense into them. And don’t get me started on fashion designers and catwalk models without an ounce of meat on their bones …
Love & Kisses, Viki.