'What If We'd Seen Real Bodies?'

As I reflect on my experience with an eating disorder as a teenager, one question

keeps coming back to me: if the media, fashion and modelling industries had shown

us a wider range of real bodies when I was growing up, would I have struggled as

much as I did?

Eating disorders are complex, and there are so many different contributing factors

that can cause an eating disorder. But I do truly believe my first struggles with body

image grew out of the deeply unhealthy beauty standards that dominated society

when I was younger.

I first started struggling with my body image towards the end of primary school.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with my body or the way it looked. I was just 11

years old. I should have been carefree, laughing with friends and not thinking twice

about how my body looked. Instead, I already carried a quiet but persistent sense

that my body wasn't good enough, and that I was 'too fat'. What strikes me most now

is that nobody ever sat me down and told me there was anything wrong with my

body. They didn't need to. The message was already all around me, in the images I

saw and the way adults were speaking about their bodies. I absorbed every negative

word they were saying about theirs and believed that this related to my body too.

By my early teens, when my eating disorder really took hold, diet culture was in full

force. Magazines at the checkout ran "beach body" countdowns and circled

celebrities' so-called flaws in red. TV shows turned weight loss into entertainment.

Almost every model on the runway or in an ad campaign had the same very narrow

body type, and it was held up as the goal rather than as one of many ways a body

can look. The language crept into everyday life too. Foods were "good" or "bad",

people called themselves "naughty" for having dessert, and so many compliments

people received about their bodies were about weight loss or fitting into extremely

small clothing sizes.

I can't rewrite my story or claim that more diverse magazine covers alone could have

prevented my eating disorder. However, I wonder how different those early years

might have felt if I had seen bodies with stomachs, stretch marks, cellulite and wider

hips portrayed as normal, beautiful and deserving of love. What if the women I

admired on screen represented every shape and size? What if society encouraged

kindness toward our bodies and love for them, instead of pushing us to alter our

bodies to fit an ideal of 'beauty' shown everywhere? I believe I would have found it

easier to see my body as simply mine, not as a problem to fix. At least I might have

understood that nothing was inherently wrong with the way my body looked. When

every image suggests there's only one correct way to look, it's extremely difficult to

believe otherwise.

The problem was never our bodies. It was the standard we were measuring them

against. The images held up as "ideal" were rarely real. They were airbrushed,

filtered, carefully lit and often edited beyond recognition, showing a body type that

only a tiny fraction of people naturally has. Even the models in those photos didn't

look like their own pictures. And the ideal kept moving. One decade it was extreme

thinness; the next, a tiny waist with curves in all the "right" places; then a toned,

"clean" body that looked effortless but demanded constant control.

Some things have changed. Campaigns and runways now feature greater body

diversity than when I was younger, more people speak openly about eating

disorders, and diet culture is called out more often. However, in other respects, the

pressure has merely shifted. Today's youth carry these images everywhere on their

phones. Filters and editing apps can instantly alter and soften bodies. Much of the

so-called "wellness" content echoes traditional diet messages, just presented more

subtly. Algorithms learn what we linger on and serve us more of it, so a young

person who pauses on one "what I eat in a day" video can quickly find their feed

filled with them. And the comparison no longer stops at celebrities and models. It

now extends to friends, classmates and influencers who feel relatable, which can

make an unrealistic standard seem even more achievable, and falling short of it feel

even more personal. The narrow ideal hasn't disappeared. It has simply found new

ways to reach us.

Industries need to stop profiting from people's insecurities. Beauty, fashion, diet and

"wellness" brands have made billions by convincing us our bodies are problems that

only their products can fix. They sell us the insecurity and then sell us the solution.

That must change. Brands should show real, unedited bodies, make clothes for

every size, and be honest when they alter an image. Social media platforms should

stop pushing harmful content to young users just because it keeps them scrolling.

And as consumers, we have more power than we think. Every time we choose

brands that celebrate real bodies over those that profit from making us feel small, we

send a message about what we will and won't accept.

I'll never know for certain whether seeing a wider range of bodies would have

changed my path. But I do know that representation matters. What we see shapes

what we believe is normal, and what we believe is normal shapes how we treat

ourselves. We can't switch off the algorithms or edit every image our kids come

across, but we're not powerless either. That's why I'm hopeful we can build a

healthier body culture together, and it starts closer to home than we might think.

It starts with us. Many adults I grew up with were quietly caught up in these same

standards. They passed down the messages they had received as children, often

without realising it. Breaking this cycle requires choosing to do so. It means noticing

the harsh comments we make about ourselves in the mirror, questioning where

those beliefs come from, and treating our bodies with the kindness we hope our

children will learn. Kids are always observing. When they see adults enjoying food

without shame, wearing swimwear confidently, getting in the photo and moving for

joy rather than punishment, they learn something magazines never taught me: that

their bodies are worth caring for as they are.

Most importantly, we need to create a safe space for open conversations. Struggling

with food or body image is nothing to be ashamed of, and seeking help early is

crucial. I stayed silent for too long, and I don't want any young person to feel they

have to do the same.

We can't control every image our children see, but we can influence what they hear

from us. We can remind them that the bodies on their screens are often not real, and

that the standard itself is the problem, not them. We can be the voice that reassures

them that nothing is wrong with them. I wish someone had told me that at age 11.

Let's make sure every child hears it now.

Real bodies have always been beautiful. It's time for the world to show it.