Chocolate Cake and Cucumber Anonymous
CONTENT WARNING: DISORDERED EATING, FATPHOBIA, DIET MENTIONS After nearly 18 months of keeping the words buried inside me, they are nearly impossible to speak. “Why do you want to see a psychologist?” My doctor asks. “I-“ My heart is pumping. “I…” I can’t get the words to leave my throat. They’re stuck. “I-“ I try again, horrified to find tears escaping from my eyes. Goddammit. This wasn’t meant to be so hard.
I see it in the smart, ambitious, funny, kind, courageous young women I have befriended over the years, who have all done battle with their bodies and still work to convince themselves they are good enough. I see it in the women in my family, this disease passed on from mother to daughter, from sister to sister, living in the cells of our shared history. I see it in the throwaway comments, the photoshopped selfies, the eleven year olds wearing push-up bras. I see it in the doe-eyed teenagers who start to panic when they’re asked to eat pizza instead of the cucumber sticks they prepared earlier. And yet, despite all this, despite the multitude of studies and statistics proving that we are living through an age of anxiety with more pressure on girls than ever before, people argue feminism has no place in the 21st century.
“Go on,” She looks concerned now. “Take your time.” “I…” I will myself to let the words go, to spit them out. “I’ve been struggling with bulimia and anorexia.” There. It’s out. The force of releasing these words hits me like a punch to the stomach. We live in a world where the female body is exceptionally politicised. The beauty industry is worth billions of dollars worldwide, encompassing; creams, make-up products, waxing and shaving equipment, plastic surgery, diet plans, apps, magazines and tv shows. Women’s insecurities and self-objectifying tendencies are actively encouraged because they’re highly profitable; as a result, self-loathing and eating disorders in women and girls continue to rise globally.
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I’ve learnt a lot in the two and a half years since I walked into my doctor’s clinic alone. The war against ourselves cannot be won by fighting in the conventional sense. More than self-monitoring and punishments and fitness plans and calorie trackers we need compassion. We need a kinder, gentler way. Every time we judge our bodies based on how they feel rather than how they look we are standing up for ourselves, and for women everywhere. So please, let’s eat chocolate cake. Let’s try pole dancing and martial arts. Let’s wear outrageous lipstick, leg hair and huge t-shirts. Let’s do whatever it takes to reclaim our bodies and make us feel good, because we deserve to.
