Jezebel on parents and eating disorders

Jezebel writer Anna North put up a piece today based on an interview we did last week about not just my new book, Brave Girl Eating, but the whole notion of family-based treatment.

The comments, sadly, reveal some of the biases against FBT (the Maudsley approach). Take a look and leave a comment if you are so moved--I think Jezebel readers would benefit by hearing from some who have had positive experiences with FBT.

I'm off to do some deep breathing.

Annals of retouching disaster: The Ann Taylor shirt

Thanks to a technical screw-up by someone at Ann Taylor (I'm thinking heads will roll over this), Jezebel was able to grab screen captures of a model before and after retouching.

Here's what the site ran:



You can see the work that's been done. As Jezebel put it, the "unretouched thumbnails . . . transform [models] into ribless monstrosities."

The model on the left--the unretouched one--is beautiful, shapely, and wears the clothing well. So why, why, why turn her into the absurd image on the right? I don't think it's enough to cite the pursuit of thinness. The model on the left is already thin--you can see her ribs, for God's sake. I think there's something more at stake here. Something that has to do less with beauty-qua-beauty and more to do with how women are perceived in 21st-century America--and how we perceive ourselves.

I can't help thinking about the timing of all these retouching debacles. There was the Calvin Klein photoshop disaster:



Then there was the Self magazine Kelly Clarkson debacle (see below).



Technology has something to do with it, of course. We photoshop because we can, because human beings are compulsive changers-of-reality and even more relentless self-improvers, and can't pass up an opportunity to "iimprove" ourselves.

Except that these kinds of "improvements" are so far out of the mainstream, no one (I hope) would confuse them with reality. Which brings me back to the idea that there's something more going on here.

Women have never been as powerful in America as we are today. And even though we still have a ways to go (can you say "woman president in my lifetime?), we've made enormous progress since I was a young thing. And thanks to the Great Recession, women's work and employment levels may be surpassing men's for the first time.

And maybe that's the problem. Maybe the Trojan Horse of self-loathing embodied in images like these is meant to put us uppity women in our place. I've said it before and I'll say it again: So long as we're obsessed with our appearance, our looks, how thin we are or aren't, we're missing the boat on a whole lot of more important issues.

I can't help thinking there's a connection.

Britney does Photoshopping

Kudos to Britney Spears, of all people, for releasing some before and after photos of herself--before and after airbrushing and photoshopping, that is. She's the latest in a trickle of celebrities doing this. It's a commendable effort, even if, as Jezebel rightly points out, the before images are still unrealistic, thanks to makeup, lighting, and other props ordinary women don't have when they look in the mirror.

Still, it's a start, a small stone rippling the surface of the unattainable thin ideal. Me, I'm hoping for the rockslide. Any day now.

Warning: The Images You Are About to See May Be Damaging to Your Health

I'm a big fan of Jezebel, but I think they've got it wrong this morning. In a post discussing a recent editorial in the Daily Mail by grieving mother Rosalind Ponomarenko-Jones, whose 19-year-old daughter died of anorexia, Margaret Hartmann argues against the notion of labeling photos of celebrity "twiglets" when they get too thin.

Ponomarenko-Jones argues against the current appearance-driven culture, which calls out celebrities not for achievements but for appearance. And "calls out" is the right expression, since we're all familiar with the standard scary-skinny-celebrity story these days: Publish a photo of a woman so emaciated that it's painful to look at her, along with a headline that screams a fake concern for her well-being. The whole exercise feels prurient and voyeuristic.

Hartmann centers her argument on the logistics and legality of the question: How would we determine when a celeb is "too thin"? How would we know when to label an image and when not to? It's a valid point. And before commenters jump on me for this, I acknowledge that you can't tell whether someone has an eating disorder just by looking at her. Some people are naturally skinny, and there are other reasons (other illnesses) for gauntness.

But Ponomarenko-Jones has the moral high ground here, and I wish there were a way to honor the spirit of her request. Because we (and by "we" I mean the media) don't go around publishing photos of, say, recent cancer victims, who may be every bit as scarily skinny as an actress in the grip of anorexia. Yet magazines and websites are full of images of "twiglets," young women so thin you can see the shape of their femurs. Why is it OK to publish these images and not, say, images of Farah Fawcett as she lay dying of cancer?

It comes down to our blindness to eating disorders as "real" diseases. We would cringe at the idea of violating Fawcett's privacy in that way. Yet the young celebrities who walk so scary-skinny among us are dying of an illness, too, an illness that will kill them as surely as cancer killed Fawcett. The difference is that with treatment, many of these women can recover; for Fawcett and many other cancer victims, alas, treatment did not save their lives.


And of course treatment won't always help with eating disorders, either. But the point here is that instead of parading these images as models for women--whether this is openly acknowledged or not--we should label them for what they are: images of the gravely ill, who are struggling with their own terrible reality and heart-breaking health battles.


Jezebel got it wrong. The real shanda (as my grandmother would have said) is that we pretend there's no such thing as too thin.

Let's hear it for Gabby Sidibe's designer

. . . who has the guts to articulate, in an interview with the Washington Post, the sad truth about the fashion business: It exists not to serve women but to use them. As Megan Carpentier over at Jezebel writes, "If a designer wants to design a pair of formal, satin shorts with pleats and pockets because for some godforsaken reason he thinks that's cool, then he's got to find a rail-thin model to wear it, or else his design is going to look as ugly and unflattering as it actually is. If he wants to design clothes for women to wear, then he might actually be forced to take into account the women who will be wearing them."

And thanks to Carpentier for pointing out some of the cognitive dissonance in the story. Which is unsurprising. We as a society are so screwed up on the subjects of weight and health, it's a wonder we don't all burst into tears every time we walk into a clothing store.

Et tu, New York Times?

Funny--I just spent an hour on the radio talking about the stigma of being fat, and lo and behold, this incredibly mean-spirited snarky piece appears in the New York Times.

I'm happy to see that Jezebel called the Times out for this offensive story, which includes paragraphs like this one:

The petites section features a bounty of items for women nearly as wide as they are tall; the men’s Big & Tall section has shirts that could house two or three Shaquilles. And this is really, remarkably smart.

The writer, Cintra Wilson, seems unfamiliar with the concept that fat people wear clothes and spend money too.

I think this is a job for the Times' public editor, don't you? You can email Clark Hoyt at public@nytimes.com.