I’m a fat girl. On my wedding day I remember feeling that our special day would have been perfect, if only I was a couple of kilograms lighter.

I berate myself daily for the piece of chocolate I ate or the steps I didn’t climb. Guilt and shame are my constant companions.
The strange thing is, I’m not overweight. Never have been. But this small fact hasn’t stopped me feeling fat at every stage of my life.
I felt fat at school camp when I was too embarrassed to come out of the river because somebody would see my hideous size ten bikini body. I knew back then that my life would have been perfect, if only I could have fitted into a size eight.
For part of my twenties when I did fit into that size eight bikini I was still fat. If only I could have fitted into a size six. Then I would have been happy.
Now in my thirties, as I fluctuate between size ten and twelve, I wish I had appreciated my size eight body when I had it. If I had it now surely I’d be happy.
My problem is not my body, it’s my head — and I’m not alone.
In a recent experiment conducted for ITV’s Tonight program in the UK, 100 women between the ages of 35 and 70 were given a counter device which they were instructed to click each time they had a negative thought about their face, body, or themselves.
The results? On average, the women in the study had 36 negative thoughts about themselves per day.
I’ve seen this first-hand. Recently at a play group with my 18-month-old daughter, three other mothers with children of similar age got talking.
Two of the mothers were counting Weight Watchers’ points and obsessing over calories, fiercely trying to regain their pre-baby bodies.
They confessed to the group their sins of eating chocolate on the weekend and consuming “too many” points. They berated themselves and commiserated with each other.
The third mother said she doesn’t care enough about weight to worry about it and deprive herself of the things she enjoys. Phew, a note of sanity.
Not all women have a warped sense of their body.
But then she added that she still feels guilty when she eats chocolate it’s just that the pleasure from eating it is stronger than the guilt. Why must she feel guilty at all?
What makes this stranger is that the women dieting would already fit into that size eight bikini that I have coveted all my life. But just like me, they’re not satisfied.
As the conversation about weight loss and dieting continued, I thought about the four impressionable young minds that were listening into our conversation.
Sure, they might not have understood much of it, but it won’t be long before they have an understanding the mummy hates her body.
And then perhaps they will realise that other mummies hate their bodies, and that hating their bodies is normal.
It strikes me as perverse that my toddler is listening to healthy women congratulating each other for losing a couple of kilograms or lamenting the fact that they haven’t.
And I can’t help but wonder if we are inadvertently passing our body image hang-ups onto our daughters.
I would love for my daughter to grow up without the warped body image issues that I’ve internalised.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to raise a child who is truly happy in her own skin, liberated from the constant self-criticism about her appearance?
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