Tag Archives: Kate Moss


I know what you’re thinking . . . eating disorder blog about models. WRONG!!!!! (P. S. There are two subtle Liza Minnelli references in that opening line . . . a cookie to anyone who can identify them both . . . no takers?)

Anyhow, a few weeks ago, my friend Candace brought a major fashion faux pas to my attention. No, not wearing athletic sneakers with jeans and graphic tees (especially if the jeans are just a little bit too short for the shoes). Trust me. This is even more fucked up than that.

Then today (yesterday? Today. “Holidays” all roll into one when you’re boycotting . . . ) I came across another little gem that bears a rant. Here are two big fuck ups from the world of fashion.

I’ll go with the most recent first. I found this on three websites, EmpowHerABC News, and FitPerez:

Image from "Ricky's"

This is “Anna Rexia”, a Halloween costume from a store called “Ricky’s”. Yes, that is a measuring tape around her neck and waist. The costume description:

“If Anna Rexia doesn’t want to put it in her mouth there is nothing you can say to change her mind. You can stop trying to sell her on the point that there aren’t any carbs and it’s all protein because Anna Rexia just doesn’t want anything to do with it. Make no bones about it this girl is as disciplined as they can get. Anna Rexia costume is anything but bare bones! Costume includes headband, choker neckband, removable ‘Anna Rexia’ badge and ribbon tie belt. If you’re starving for attention, this costume will be sure to put you on top of the world.”


The second fashion disaster comes from a company called “Teen Modelling” on the website “Zazzle”. (Found on The Daily Mail)

From the Daily Mail

Yep. They’re marketing this for children. For those of you not familiar with this saying, it’s a “lifestyle motto” from the model Kate Moss. Rather than blather on about why these things are fucked up, I’m going to take another tactic. (besides, I already filed this under “Rantings” not “Blatherings”)

I’d like to take this opportunity to tell you how “good” skinny feels.

Skinny is waking up surprised that you slept at all, because usually your body is so out of balance you seldom get more than 2-3 hours. You maybe can’t feel certain limbs, because no matter how thick your mattress is, its direct pressure on your bones has cut off blood flow and bruised your shoulders, hips, knees, and ribs.

You probably start to cry, because you’re so hungry, but know you won’t be allowed to eat anything, at least not until you’ve burned off enough calories to “earn” your food. You stand up and black out for a while, because your heart can’t adjust well to sitting or standing.

You have pillows strategically placed around your house, because the couch, your computer chair, the stationary bike are all too painful to sit on directly. You carefully weigh, measure, and chop your food, because you know if you do one thing wrong or out of order, you won’t be allowed to eat it that day. You sit on your pillow, exhausted from your work out, miserable from your morning weigh in, and eat your small bowl of whatever shit you’re allowed as slowly as possible, because a) it’s the last thing you’ll eat for a while and you’ve got to make it last, and b) you won’t be allowed to sit anymore once it’s done.

You don’t do much during the day, but every minute is occupied. You can’t go out with friends, because they’ll want to eat or go to a movie, and that’s too much sitting. Any time away from your exercise means making it up later, no matter how late you have to stay up.

If you do leave the house, because you have an unavoidable commitment like a doctor’s appointment, you’ll probably have to walk there, never mind how many hours away it is. If, by some miracle, you’re allowed to ride the subway, you’ll regret it every time the train bounces and jostles, because you’ll have to keep checking to make sure you haven’t broken a bone against the hard seat backs.

You’ll cry climbing stairs because you feel like you’ll die before you reach the top. You stop being able to digest food and liquid and end up bloated, like a pregnant 8-year-old. You’ll never be warm, not even on the hottest days. People will stare at you, whisper, glare, or make comments outright. They’d be surprised to know that skinny does not equal deaf. You’re terrified that you’ll pass out in public, because that means people will either try to feed you juice or take you to the hospital. You’ll hide from everyone, and feel the most alone you’ve ever felt in your life.

In short, skinny feels really good. Really. And while I still don’t know if I like most food, I’m pretty sure even dog food tastes better than skinny felt for me.


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