From (fashmag) Grazia:
She once described herself as “a chubby English girl who didn’t fit in anywhere” and told her parents she’d rather be called ugly than fat.
But Kelly Osbourne has hit back in spectacular style, slimming down from more than 76kg to just 50kg.
Her victory was complete last week when she fitted into a sample-size dress given to her by her favourite designer, Betsey Johnson.
… But friends are concerned that the 25-year-old has taken her weight loss too far and could be reverting to her old, dangerous ways to stay super-slim.
She has previously battled addictions to prescription pills and alcohol, and there are concerns she may have replaced those habits with a reliance on diet pills and an exercise obsession.
“Kelly always said she hated skinny girls who could only ever talk about their weight – and she used to say she would never become a slave to being thin – but that’s exactly what’s happened,” says a friend.
WHY does this make me mad? Because it’s simultaneously APPLAUDING dangerous behaviour and making it seem like it’s the right thing to do.
Ok, Kelly Osbourne is a teeny little short girl, (5’2″, apparently) so 50 kg (110lbs) is probably not dangerously thin for her size. (I’d suggest it’s on the lower end of what would be healthy, though.) So what am I to make of suggestions that at my height, 5’6″, I should weigh between 123 (nearly 56kg) and 154 lbs(nearly 70kgs), with an “ideal weight” of 139 lbs (63kg). The lowest figure there is almost HALF of what I weigh now. Is it any wonder I despair?
I don’t want my entire LIFE to be about dieting and food obsession, yet that’s what society wants me to do. I’ve embraced the self-hatred required to call myself a fatso, fatty fat fat, and to let my weight make me miserable for a significant part of every day. Some days I feel like the only way society will ever acknowledge me as A WINNNER ! is if I somehow miraculously beat the odds and reach that elusive number on the scale.
I’m not looking forward to my psychiatrist appointment this week. While the psychiatrist is not thin, she is also NOT HELPFUL about the drug caused weight gain. Last time she actually told me about how successful her daughter had been on Weight Watchers (which is one of the living HELLS to me – if they’re so damn successful, why is it that everyone keeps having to go back? Hmmm? Don’t get me started on the $$$$ of WW). She also suggested SURGERY!! Really? Why would I do that to myself? I am still in shock two months later at her suggesting that, by the way. But I can’t go to another psychiatrist because they’re like hen’s teeth.
At least my psychologist tends to be more understanding, but I’m still not looking forward to it. I don’t know why I made the appointments for consecutive days – the only thing worse would be to see them both on the one day.