I absolutely agree with Kirsten that we are responsible for our bodies. And I believe it takes time to learn this, learn how to treat them well and what to do with them outside the influence of magazines, television and peers. As someone who is having their own moment, finally, at almost thirty after year of disordered eating I know that life’s just not that simple. As a child, I was always larger than other girls. Almost my full adult height by 12 years of age I was a giant amongst pre-teen girls. I didn’t feel competition from magazines, tv or music to fit in, to be something, I felt the pressure hardest from my peers and their mothers.

Later I discovered magazines and perfect, air brushed images. Ad campaigns in particular intrigued me. Enthralled my want for glamor and adventure. I thought that I was smart enough to know that perfection was not real. To escape the pressure. I knew nobody was that perfect. I knew that people who smoked more often than not got cancer of some description. I knew that not eating enough food to sustain my body would lead to long-term health effects. And none of that made any difference. Perhaps magazines HAD brain washed me. Perhaps movies HAD integrated into my thoughts and reprogrammed me while I slept.

Perhaps it’s time to unravel some of these thought processes. Maybe the place I’m at is where I need to be now. I am tall. From a large family. I liken our family to Dr Phil and his brood. Tall and big-boned but athletic. No excuse for layers of fat. None. But I’m never going to be a tiny 5 foot something, delicate little flower. No amount of punishment or ruination of my body will make that happen. It took me time to get here. With a clear head and focus. Would my journey have been a shorter one without the perfection of the nineties supermodel?

What came first, the chicken or the egg?

Chief Blogger at Suger Coat It; An Australian lifestyle blog for women who work for themselves. Melissa is a social media consultant & lover of stripes. Most weekends you’ll find her at the beach or home on the veranda kicking back. Around here, they call her Suger. Feel free to do the same.