Remembering friend and fellow writer and blogger, Kate Sutton. Women everywhere on Saturday 21 July 2018 turned up on social media shedding their inhibitions and saying “Feck it” as they donned bikinis and swimsuits in the spirit of #BeMoreWitWitWoo. RIP Kate. Ed

Growing up, I had the nickname “Miss Piggy” even though, looking back, I wasn’t a particularly large child. I was plump, but in what I now know to be in an adorable way. (Thank you very much.) But being short also, I understand how I got the moniker.

But that’s children.

They pick on something about someone, anything, then give it a label. Kids do that. I did that. Sensible and idiot kids alike do that.

Being said, I wasn’t particularly paranoid or unhappy with how I looked. Not even the day when mum made new, identical blue print dresses for me and my sister. My sister’s glided on effortlessly and mine… well, mine got stuck on something. The something being my arse. The solution was to alter my dress until it fit my shape. (The surgical solution to alter bodies to fit an incorrect size would become popular a decade or so later.)

No, the shame and paranoia came in high school, followed me to college and then into my first job in the over-the-top-fashion 80s. I flirted dangerously with an eating disorder during these times, alternating between eating too much and then too little. Here’s the thing, though, I felt fat whether I weighed a too low 6.5 stones or a perfectly normal 9st.

Some messed up shit.

Read on | What Mel Did