The ghost of herons past

​For most of my life I have been skinny. At school I regularly batted away anorexic jibes from the mean girls, and reassured the kinder ones that I didn’t have an eating disorder. I ate, I just didn’t put on weight. At secondary school I grew tall, and my body just couldn’t keep up.
 
I envied girls with curves. Boobs and bums. Athletic legs that looked perfect in skirts where as I, quite frankly, looked like a heron. Sixth Form coincided with the rise of the Kate Moss, waif aesthetic. My stick-like figure was now envied, but not in a nice way. I once overheard a conversation where my name was mentioned and someone piped up: ‘Oh you know, the one who walks around thinking she’s a model.’
 
I did not think I was a model. I still thought I was a heron.
 
I was desperate to wear the All Saints-esque baggy cargo pants and crop tops, like my more diminutive friends. Alas, the selection on offer at Miss Selfridge were always far too short for me and, unfortunately, it now looked like the poor heron had got caught in a carrier bag. The pockets of my cargo pants flapping in the wind.
 
On to university and not much changed, weight-wise. I was eating unhealthier foods (natch) and without the institutionalised torture of double cross-country to endure – exercising less. However, the comments remained. A friend of my boyfriend (now husband) even said my arms were so thin I looked like I was in pain. They aren’t friends anymore. He was a bit of knob, to be honest.
 
My point is, being skinny wasn’t all Instagram and fabulous clothes. Mainly because when I was a teen / 20s Instagram hadn’t been invented…
 
After two babies (and two C-sections) my body recovered. I didn’t have to think about losing baby weight because it just disappeared. I had a bit of a flappy tummy, but nothing to write home about. As annoying as it sounds (and I know how annoying it sounds) I just didn’t think about my weight. Breastfeeding, high metabolism, who knows. I was still a slim jim. Not a heron anymore, but certainly not a penguin.
 
As I reach my 40s, I feel like my body has changed completely. A large part has to do with the pandemic, of course. Our days centred around food and we have eaten handsomely (what else was there to do?). Lunchtime spreads provided comfort from a scary world and missed loved ones. Despite taking up jogging, we were moving less. No school run, no work meetings, no commute. I went up a dress size and all but two bras felt like they were suffocating. I finally had boobs.
 
The hard-wired, patriarchally-conditioned female in me started to panic. I have an extra roll when I sit down – it must be banished! I simply can’t wear size 14 jeans even if they are comfortable!
 
How stupid. How pointless. I’ve been skinny. I didn’t particularly enjoy it. Why would I punish myself to get to be that size again? I’m 5ft 9”, strong with a healthy BMI, good diet and wonderful family and friends. That’s a goal, not a situation to escape from.
 
Luckily, my social media isn’t filled with body-perfect celebrities. Thanks to Jameela Jamil, Em Clarkson, Danae Mercer et al, I’m bombarded by positive messages and calls to arms to ignore diet culture in favour of health. Plus, I absolutely, 100%, do NOT want to pass on body insecurity to my children. Philippa Perry, in her wonderful book The Book You Wish Your Parents Had Read encourages us to be in all the photos, regardless of how we feel we look at that moment in time. Importantly, she also advises to never body shame yourself in front of your children – as this is where our narratives begin.
 
All this sounds rather wonderful and positive, doesn’t it? But 39 years of advertising and messaging doesn’t disappear overnight. I still worry my tummy will look big in certain outfits, or that friends who haven’t seen me for a while will be horrified that I’ve put on a few small pounds. It’s maddening and I am grateful to the women out there who are campaigning for the media that I grew up with to be regulated. Airbrushing and filters have a lot to answer for.
 
However, for the most part, I am looking forward to sailing into my 40s confidently. Riding on my successes as a person and the love of my family, and a few pairs of fabulous mom jeans and graphic tees, to give me confidence. After all, as Jameela Jamil says, we are so much more than what we weigh.
 
For anyone who might be struggling with post-lockdown body worries, try this trick I read about the other day: Think of the people around you who you love and admire – both men and women. Think of the adjectives you would use to describe them. What comes to mind? Funny, Kind, Intuitive, Strong, Loving? I could pretty much lay my life on the fact you didn’t say ‘Thin’.
 
After all, it does not matter if you look like a heron, penguin, or, as is my current vibe, a fabulous giraffe.