COME BACK, SIZE 0! ALL IS FORGIVEN! : The fall and fall of women's clothes sizes.
Some of the contents of my wardrobe are downright embarrassing. No, I’m
not talking about the ones whose suspect mottling betrays the fact that I
consume pasta sauce with the grace and dignity of a three year-old. Nor the ridiculously
high, gold-heeled platforms, bought ‘ironically’. What I’m actually referring
to some of the most innocuous-looking pairs of jeans, and shorts, and the odd
dress. They don’t look too bad, until you look at the label, and see that where
most women’s clothes will read ‘M’ or ’14’ or ‘38’ or some other reliably
meaningless classification, some of mine start with the words ‘Age…’. And the
numbers following that word aint 22. Nor, if I’m being honest about it, are
they even post-pubescent.
Ok, so here’s some disclaimers, before you think that I’m some sort of self-masochistic
with a penchant for crushed ribs and ultrashort hems. For a start, I’m five foot one, and come
from a family who are, largely, ridiculously skinny. And secondly – I suffer
from acute, restrictive anorexia nervosa, and have at my worst got down to a
BMI which made me very ill, my doctor very, very worried, and shopping nigh-on impossible. I have been thin. Very
thin. People shouting ‘Eat a Mars bar’ on the street, can’t take a bath because
of the bruises on my back, could use my ribs as a low-fat cheese grater-type thin.
Dressing should be the last thing on your mind when you’ve got medical professionals
warning you that your white blood cell count means you could die of a bad cold.
But getting to the point where I was so skinny that I hated my body (far more
than when I thought I was ‘too fat’) did not make me hate clothes. I still
bought Vogue (for the Miu Miu, not the models), and what with having a normal
20-something female trapped in there somewhere, was still into fashion. As
such, I was sick of jeans falling off, and didn’t want to find a ‘solution’ in
elastic waistbands and baggy t-shirts. Hence the furtive buying of kids’
clothes, carefully picked for minimum flower embroidery and sequins, to stave
off my longing for a pair of skinnies that were actually skinny. Luckily, despite
the little voice that was actually quite pleased to have got to pre-period
levels of skinniness, I managed to make my rational self look at the labels on
these clothes and feel utterly embarrassed. I know they say that anorexics are
all scared of growing up, but trust me, I never
wanted to be the girl wearing the dress also available in age four. I felt ridiculous.
In moments where my resolve to recover wanes, the sad fact is that a beautiful dress in a size 8 will probably give me the
guts not to forego that sandwich.
Except, wait – it seems that the wonderful people at ASOS have some sensitivity
with my problem. Low and behold, they have
actually made something for people my size. As of 10/07/2013, you can buy your
body-con, cut-out detail mini dress in UK Size 2.
UK Size 2. That’s American size 00, or (as we sticklers for rational
maths or euphemisms put it) MINUS 2. And if you want measurements, that means
you can buy your figure-hugging, cleavage-flaunting, rib-bearing dress in bust
29 inches, waist 22 inches, hips 32 inches.
I appreciate that all those numbers might not mean much to anyone who
isn’t as attached to the old measuring tape as an anorexic is. So let me put
that in context. I am 5 foot 1 inch, with a small frame and an eating disorder.
My lowest BMI was below 13.5, a few days before I got talked into admitting
myself to hospital for inpatient treatment. You’re generally considered as ‘severely
underweight’ at about 15.5 or less. I’m saying all this because of a pretty
stark fact – taking measurements as the basis for fit, I wouldn’t have squeezed
into ASOS’s size 2, if I’d ordered myself some new clothes for my stay in
hospital.
Even being at the lower end of ASOS’s ‘Petite’ range height-wise (they
class petite as 5 " 3 and under), and even at a BMI which was potentially
life-threatening, I had a bust measurement which was over that of the 29 inch
prescribed by ASOS. I know because I used to have a 28 inch bra at my smallest,
and I eventually gave up wearing it (even as I was losing weight) because it
crushed by ribs and gave me bruises. I’d lost most of the fat around my chest,
but you can’t starve away bone. I would never have been able to fit a piece of
clothing over my underwear, if it was
a 29 inch bust.
Now, I totally accept that some people are just naturally skinny, and
that of those a few will also be very short, and positively welcome ASOS’s
stocking decision. But, sorry guys – you skinny, healthy people are a tiny minority. No way have ASOS stocked these
clothes for a market as niche as that. They’ve got to be targeting the
unhealthy ones, too. OK, some people are this small size, and technically not 'healthy, but because of illnesses in no way related to eating disorders. These girls undeniably deserve fashionable clothing as much as the rest of us. But is that really the target market ASOS has in mind when they launched this size? Or have they unconsciously, or perhaps silently, included people like me in there, too?
As I see it, there are a few ways that this could go. Obviously, we
super-thin people are vastly outweighed (no pun intended) by the non-kids-clothes
wearing majority. I accept that a lot of people will see the minus size for
what it is, but I’m worried that there are some people out there, fit in both
sense of the word, but maybe a bit insecure. These girls might see those size 2s
and feel a sneaking guilt, a niggling shame, that they can’t fit into it. Or,
think that this is the way to go – after all, didn’t they hear that VB is a
size 00? And, God, she looks great. Alternatively, and this is what really
scares me, there’s the reaction of those people who have taken insecurity a
whole stage further.
I don’t speak for every ED sufferer here, but I want to try and put
across how I think this would affect someone with eating issues. I think the message
getting through (carried by that nasty little voice which most of us have, but amplified so loud it's hard to ignore) would be one
of three things:
- Either A) ‘Oh God, I’m not a size 2. Why am I not a size 2? I must be fat. I need to lose more weight. I am fat. Must work harder. Must fit into a double zero. Actually, must get to a point where nothing fits. Must prove that I’m properly thin. Must, must, must.
- Or B) ‘I knew it! My doctor is speaking a load of crap. I can be this size and be healthy!’ (FYI: most can’t.) ‘No way would ASOS, with its corporate responsibility schtick, sell clothes that you’d have to destroy your body to get into. No problem here. Bloody scaremongerers.’
- Or C) ‘This is absolutely, one hundred per cent, totally and utterly wrong. I am angry. I will write letters. I will shout. I will get my angry feminist anorexic on. This will end!’
Only one of these can in any way end well. Miraculously, I’ve just
about convinced myself that I’m in category C. As such, I’ve written this
article, and started a petition, to try to throw some light on the issue, and
get a movement behind a call for change. No one should be giving out the
message that a UK size 2 is a desirable, acceptable size for a mainstream
retailer to stock. ASOS’s customer base includes teenage girls, the single most
likely demographic to develop eating problems, and the one most given to low
self-esteem. Excuse the pun, but don’t feed it, for God’s sake!
I love the fashion industry for its creativity, and I used to love ASOS
for its mix of high and low, for its ethical Africa range and its brilliant
take on trends. But I can’t sit by and watch it peddle a potentially dangerous set
of measurements as if they’re a perfectly acceptable, nay desirable, way to be.
It’s wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
And if you think so too, please go to our petition and say so.
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