In the years to come, I grew up with a bit of an eating problem. Could my brothers really see that as small children? 5 and 6 years old? I was only 3. How did they even think I was different? What were they comparing me to? Weren't they always preoccupied with their Dukes of Hazard Big Wheels and light sabers? I've always been tall for my age and not chubby per se, just a little baby fat that lingered.... well linger may be the wrong word... it was a solid part of me well into my early 20's. :) But at three, I definitely don't think I was out of control. Not yet.
I went on my first 'diet' at the age of 9. It was the summer I was going into the fourth grade. I should have been concerned about what neon pink or green slouch socks I was going to wear to school the first day, or how to wear my side ponytail. Instead, I was eating a raw onion like an apple because I had heard on television that onions help you lose weight.... how I still like onions after all these years is a mystery in itself.
I woke up early, turned on our television and attempted to do a morning workout with some blonde hot body, always on the beach with five overly tanned demonstrators glistening with oil behind her, always with a name like Franz or Trev, something exceedingly appropriate and goofy. That summer is when and how my poor self-image began.... at least in my mind.
Could it be because I lived in a house with no affection, no communication, no love. Was I turning to food for comfort? I really have no idea. I'm sure a psychologist could have a field day with my life's stories. But, seriously though, I like food. It tastes good. I think most people like food. If you don't, you're either a liar or there's more wrong with your head than mine, that's for sure.
I feel like I raised myself in a lot of ways. Getting advice from beauty magazines, MTV and the Young and the Restless. That's right, the ever-so wholesome influence of day time soaps! Every single day during the summers of ten to thirteen years old. No wonder I'm so f'd up. No wonder I'm scared to have children, well let me rephrase.... No wonder I'm scared to have daughters. Boys have it so much easier. The media doesn't bombard them with self-hating images of thin as a rail heroine-chic models who are supposed to be the ideal beauty. Boys don't have to worry if their jeans make their ass look fat. There are advertisements, television commercials and subliminal media messages that make women insecure. I am living proof. Most of us are living proof. But I'm coming to terms with who I am, what's really important in life. I am thirty years old and I'm finally getting a grasp on my life. Family, friends, laughter and fun. These are the components to my happiness, not being a size 4.
I think us 'average' girls have much more in common with these heroine-chic wannabe's than we presume. We are all a product of this f'd up society that makes women feel inferior and insecure. These girls strive to be thin, eating such a small amount of calories per day they often get dizzy, pass out, skip menstrual periods and survive on cigarettes and coffee. This is absurd and obviously unhealthy.
Now, I don't smoke, but I have kissed a few smokers back in my single days, and it is absolutely disgusting. I don't care how many Altoids you pop in your mouth each day, you still smell like and taste like an ashtray, a minty ashtray, but still an ashtray. I do drink coffee and if I can smell and taste my own breath after a couple cups of Joe, I know whomever I'm talking to can as well. I can only imagine what it would be like if I survived on coffee and cigarettes. I'd have to wear a sign around my neck that warned "Stay Back 15 Feet, Halitosis in Progress".
Within this theory, Models definitely have Bad Breath. But they're pretty, right? That's all that really matters.... or so you would think by watching cable or flipping through a fashion mag. If we could just flip that switch in our youth, extinguishing the desire and fascination of becoming celebrities and models, making the famous that much less alluring then I might not fear raising daughters so much. So the title of this Blog is just that. Telling it like it is. Straightforward. Blunt. Models Have Bad Breath.... maybe they're not as enticing as the media makes them out to be. Maybe life isn't what it seems. Because it seems to me that we're putting too much focus, energy and time on the things that really don't matter. So, here's to you aspiring models.... Toast a cappuccino and snort another line.... I'm going to enjoy this delicious grilled cheese sandwich while....(by no fault of your own), you struggle to find yourself amidst the self-loathing that permeates your entire being.
