Article for The Sun newspaper

Article for The Sun – Sinead Moriarty Jan 2011

            Let’s be honest, how many of us look in the mirror and think, ‘wow’? None. When we look in the mirror all we see are flaws. Being self-critical is in a woman’s DNA. We live in a culture where thinner means better, happier, more successful and glamorous. Size zero is the holy grail. It’s what so many young women aspire to.     This observation drove me to explore the world of eating disorders for my book Pieces of My Heart. In the book, Alison the seventeen year old A-student daughter develops Anorexia and her family struggle to deal with the fall-out.

            During my research I was horrified to find how quickly Anorexia can consume you and become life threatening. Within a couple of months your daughter could be in serious danger. And the information on how she can starve herself is readily available. 935,000 results come up on Google when you search Pro-Anorexia websites. They are spine-chilling. One of them tells you how to survive on 30 calories a day.

            As I was writing the book I came to realise how important it is for mothers to instil a positive body image in their daughters. I have one friend whose mother put her on a diet aged eleven because she was “too chubby”. Five years later this girl weighed five stone and ended up in hospital being fed by a tube. Weight has always been and continues to be an emotional mine-field.

            Two years ago I had a baby girl after two sons. I was thrilled. Pink in the house, frills, dolls, dresses…I knew exactly what to do with a girl. I knew what songs to sing, toys to buy and games to play. But suddenly the happiness gave way to an overwhelming sense of fear. What if I messed her up? Girls are sensitive, emotional, and fragile. What if I made some flippant remark about my weight and my daughter became paranoid about hers. According to 2010 NHS figures, the number of patients admitted for eating disorders was up 11 per cent, 90% were women, the majority aged 14-16, but girls as young as 10 were being admitted.

            We all want the best for our daughters but how do we instil a positive body image in our children if we’ve never had a good one ourselves? How do we avoid passing our own insecurities on to our daughters?

            According to new research from beauty brand Dove, weight is a subject that mothers have trouble talking to their daughters about. The survey revealed that 42 per cent of girls believe their mothers are uncomfortable discussing appearance with them, while 65 per cent of nine to sixteen year old girls say they hide their feelings about their appearance from their mothers.

            Teenage girls are being bombarded with media images of the ‘perfect’ body. They need help understanding and resisting the pressures to develop strong body images and we mums need to be on hand to advise them.

            American author and psychotherapist Susie Orbach has some tips, “Avoid dropping casual negative remarks about your own body. Try to talk about the positives. Make it a habit to talk about peoples attributes other than their looks.”

            But how can we censor what we say all the time? It’s not realistic to think you can go through decades without ever commenting on your fat bum or wobbly thighs in front of your daughter.

            “In an ideal world, mothers should avoid all comments about weight,” says Ruth ní Eidhin, communications officer at Bodywhys, the Eating Disorder Association of Ireland, “but we know that’s not realistic. So we encourage mothers to try to moderate what they say. If you see your daughter looking at you when you comment on your weight, talk to her about it. Communication is key.”

            As I began to wonder how to gag myself for the next 30 years, ní Eidhin explains that the majority of girls suffering from eating disorders are affected by other outside issues. “It is very rare that a child will develop an eating disorder based solely on media images or the fact that her or his mother grumbled that she looked fat in her jeans,” she says. I breathe a huge sigh of relief.

            I know that over the next two decades, no matter how careful I try to be, I am bound to make many negative comments about my “muffin top” in front of my daughter. It is reassuring to learn that the odd throwaway remarks won’t give her an eating disorder, but it is sobering to know that I must watch my tongue and make sure I tell my baby girl how beautiful she is no matter what size or shape she turns out to be. I want her to grow up thinking she’s as perfect as I do when I look down at her sleeping in her cot – so small, so fragile, so innocent and vulnerable. I want to do everything in my power to make sure she has a happy life, full of love and laughter. Not one that is ruled by weighing scales and silly diets.