Apple, Banana, Pear or Hourglass!

America’s Next Top Model made it seem all so glamorous. My mother had always warned me not to get involved with it, to stay as far away as possible, but I thought the only tough thing about the modelling industry was how competitive and backstabbing the girls were. Never did I think it would lead to an eating disorder, me hating my body for years, and so many self-trust issues. Somewhere deep down, I know that I loved the photoshoots and runways and being dolled up by a whole team of experts. Yet, I would never in a thousand years consider going back or recommending the job to others. It is a demanding and dangerous industry that puts too much pressure on how people appear on the outside, they do not care about your personality. You either have to be underweight or overweight to be successful. There is no ‘normal’.

I was only a little thirteen year old when I was signed to my first agency. Although I never got any modelling work, I did have numerous television commercial auditions. At this stage I started focusing more on my weight and appearance, it started to consume a lot of my time and later would also effect my relationships. This is also where my eating disorder started. For my fifteenth birthday, my parents gave me the best birthday present: a chance to do a photoshoot so I could enlarge and improve my portfolio. I loved the shoot and still cherish it to this day, but when I sent the photographs to my agent, she reluctantly posted them on the website. I was disappointed in myself, and the way I dealt with this was by mentally punishing myself. But I did not think too much of it, that was just part of the job, right?

The first show real show I did was in July 2015, just after I had been signed with my new agent. I was modelling for a swimwear collection at the What Women Want Eye Magazine event which many rich men and women attended, sipping on their fancy cocktails while watching girls walk around in extravagant clothing. I was supposed to be doing a French exam that morning, but rescheduled it because I thought I needed to do this show, that this show could start my career. The other models were tiny with the longest legs, and I knew then that wanted to be exactly like them. Shortly after, my agent sent me to a Model Go-See photographer. I was silly and had not looked up his work beforehand, so therefore did not know what I was walking into or needed to expect. I walked into the isolated office in some dodgy, isolated area and a forty-something year old man was there. I signed some documents and we started shooting. The first half of the shoot was fine and I felt moderately comfortable, but for the second half I was asked to model in my underwear. My ignorant fifteen year old self did not know how inappropriate this was, I was this young and innocent girl modelling in my underwear for a forty-something year old with no one else in the building. Although nothing happened, thinking about it today makes my stomach turn.

November 22nd 2015 was the first time my physical condition became affected. The night before, I had done a massive runway show in front of eight-hundred audience members. I had had a fitting a month in advanced and the pants were already feeling ever-so-slightly tight around my hips, so I forced myself to eat as little as I could so I would fit the pants. I had an early call time the day of the show and would be there till late at night. They painted my nails, prepped my skin, did my hair and makeup, we did numerous test walks and got finally got dressed for the actual show. The pants were easy to slide on, the few weeks of starving had paid off. During the whole day, from call time to an hour before the show, I had only eaten a handful of crackers. Why you ask? Because that’s all they provided us, crackers. The show was successful and my agent was extremely pleased with my work, I was becoming a better model and he knew it. I was not paid a single cent for the show, but instead got a pair of heels as a way of saying ‘thank you’ for the fifteen hours I had given up to do the show. You could say I was a little pissed off, but I just let it go and told myself I would be paid for the next show. This never happened.

The next day seemed to be just like any other day, until I collapsed and fainted. The past month was finally starting to catch up with me, I was physically harming myself but did not know how bad it really was. My parents were concerned but I just blamed it on my low blood pressure, no way was I going to tell them I was starving myself to fit into a mold which was absolutely nuts. i wish they had seen through my lies, but they trusted their daughter.

In January 2017, I went to a different agency as my contract had ended with my second agency and I wanted to get more work then I currently was getting. I had travelled for an hour to get to their office and they said that they were happy to sign me. A week later, I travelled again for an hour to have my second interview and officially be signed. It was then that the agent (who by the way was very clearly overweight) talked to me about an issue, my figure. My bust (33 inches) and waist (21 inches) were fine, but my hips (37inch) were “too big” and I would have to smallen down quick. My body mass index at the time was at a mere 16.2 when it should have been at least a 20. I was already only eating 800 calories a day and exercising an absurd amount, but this woman was telling me to eat even less and workout even more. I was simply shocked, but determined to be signed to the agency and making a successful career for myself, I began eating less and working out more. I became a starving, tired, grumpy bitch. And that’s when it finally hit me - enough is enough. If this woman wanted me to lose at least 3 inches of my hips, I would have to shave my damn bones. I am a woman, and a woman has hips for a reason!

Since then it hasn't been an easy recovery. I go through patches, and sometimes it is still hard for me to look in the mirror and accept I don't have a thigh gap anymore. Overall, I am happy with where I am now. I have kicked the modelling industry in the butt and have grown as a person too. Many people ask why my mother ended up allowing me to sign to an agency, and she says it is because this was the only way for me to really understand how unfair the industry is. She could tell me herself, which she did, but that did not mean I would actually believe her. When I was part of the modelling industry, I remember watching YouTube videos or ex-models sharing their horrible experience and warning others. I wish I had not been so close-minded and taken their advice, as that is exactly what I am trying to do now.

So I guess the moral of the story is quite simple, the modelling industry is a brutal industry and no one should feel pressured to fit into their ridiculous mold. It is 2018, we should be celebrating our differences!