Achieving Health and Happiness
What is Wellbeing?
In this ever growing world of blogging, a wise man once advised me to write about what interests me. So this is something that interests me – I am not educated, qualified or professionally experienced in this field; I am not speaking for the human race, I’m not preaching, nor giving advice. I am merely writing about my experiences, and offering a little food for thought. Mainly, I’m also aware that this will not be relevant to everyone, since there are many people around the world who do not have a plethora of choice – I speak mainly from my remit of experience in my field and culture.
As a singer (and a female) I have encountered pressure from all walks of life to look and dress a particular way. Pressure from our friends and families, peers, the media, colleagues is everywhere. I’m the first to admit, I could be healthier and I’m not advocating taking our health for granted. My beef really is with the interpretation of the word ‘health’.
I have always been a curvy girl really (my GP put me on a diet when I was 4 years old), and I was teased for being a ‘fatso’ (and a cow-pat?) all the way through primary school; I was sad, lonely, and looking back, I felt like a social outcast. I never thought I’d be ‘cool’ – whatever that is – and never felt feminine. I hid behind being a Tom-Boy, Georgie from the Famous Five being a mentor, (not that I was sporty either!) and hid behind being fairly bright; my Mum had taught me to read before I even started school, so I was a step ahead there (thanks Mum:).
I remember not being very happy a lot of the time at primary school, and funnily enough always looking forward to my next meal, home time and choir practice. I had a little breakthrough once when a school play was being put together. I will never forget the desperate sense of fighting courage I felt when I auditioned for a solo against the coolest girls in school. They sneered at and dismissed me, so assured that one of them would get the lead part. I was terrified, but I sung my little heart out…. and I got it. It was worth it just to see the shock on their faces – fat, crooked-toothed little me was the better singer that day. Who knew..? I was just eight years old. I should thank them really because that was my first public performance and I’ve barely looked back.
By the time I got to secondary school, things were a bit better, but not a huge amount. My closest friend went to a different school and I travelled further away to be privately educated, though we did keep in touch. I was still overweight and for most of my teens I felt like no boy would ever fancy me, I felt a failure as a member of school society, as a female, and as a person, despite performing well academically. Obviously I had nothing to really contribute to anything because I was overweight, stereotypically being picked last for sports teams and so on (which I hated anyway), and being in a small, competitive environment of a private school possibly didn’t help. I also had an assisted place and before long, braces, so being bullied now for being ‘poor’ and ‘train tracks’ was extra ammunition, as well as my weight. Incidentally, for the record my parents worked very hard to give my brother and I a good education and the subsequent choices in life, which they succeeded in doing – I certainly would not be doing what I’m doing now without their wisdom, love and support – and I don’t know that I wouldn’t have been bullied had I gone to a larger state school.
Thankfully, by now I had developed some thick skin – something that has served me well in my chosen career – and the jibes hurt a lot less than they did that small, sensitive little girl at primary school. I also was far less inclined to run with the pack – most of whom I thought were twats anyway by now, having made the observation that a lot of the ‘cool’ kids were unnecessarily cruel and nasty, and I no longer hankered to be accepted by people who would be such meanies – quite sophisticated thinking for a ten year old I thought, not that I realised it at the time. I’d also always been encouraged by my Dad to ‘be a trend setter, not a trend follower’. I took that to mean, ‘don’t be afraid to be yourself darlin’. I have been afraid at times, but that didn’t stop me wearing my PJs to college on occasion – something I think still embarrasses my Mum to this day. Sorry Mum.
When I was 11, and still very new at my big school, I chose to sing ‘Memories’ from ‘Cats’ for one of my musical assessments – I was a strange child to be fair, listening to my mum’s Andrew Lloyd Webber compilation tape on my yellow, splash-proof Walkman on the swings when I was 7, swinging as high as I dared and simultaneously hitting all those Sarah Brightman top D flats in Phantom Of The Opera. It’s no wonder I didn’t attract the fun crowd, is it? So I sang Memories, got an A and the head of Music suggested I started having vocal training, which I did and thoroughly enjoyed. I made a few nice friends who only picked on me occasionally, and life went on. I took solace in my creativity, still got all the solos for the next five years, accepted I wasn’t ‘cool’ and would always be fat.
By the time I got to college, I was convinced I was obese. I rebelled as far as my clothes were concerned (having been stuck in a very strict school uniform for the last five years) wearing anything that was as far from fashionable as I could. There was no way anyone would have bought the same top as me, and therefore I avoided being compared, and also avoided addressing my femininity. I had a much better time as it happens, being reunited with my best friend who’d gone to a different school. I’d also made some friends from my summer job who were a few years older than me, and gave me a great new perspective on life.
I sewed flares into all my jeans (this was long after the 70s were over you understand) dyed my hair all sorts of colours, wore my PJs to college as previously mentioned and had the most outrageous array of club wear imaginable. I bought a series of very bizarre tie-dyed, Lycra cape-dress things that came with hotpants – I never wore them with the hotpants obviously because I was grotesquely fat. One of these capes was figure hugging on the top, and flared out from the waist to the floor, with holes cut out on the sides.
I was wearing it with a pair of white trousers one night in the queue to our local club, and was completely shocked when one of my friends from my drama class, in front of us in the same queue, said ‘hey! I love that – skinny ribs!!’ And she tickled my bony ribcage that was sticking through the holes in this outfit. Her name was Nicola, she had taken dance as well, and I’d always been envious of her figure – not really skinny, but slender and shapely, ‘I wish I could get away with wearing something like that!’ she said to me.
I was stunned.. I said to her she was crazy and of course she’d look much better in it than me, and we entered into a good natured argument about who was the fattest. I don’t think it was false modesty, I genuinely think it was misinterpretations of ourselves on both sides. I had a great time at college, but I had thought I’d got by on being funny, a bit crazy, creative and compassionate – to compensate for being fat.
How fat can I have been, really? If Nicola could see my ribcage from two places ahead in the queue? If I’d got it from any kind of normal shop, it would have had a dress size in it I suppose – but then that’s another thing that drives me nuts anyway. Yet another number for women to use to make themselves feel awful, and it’s a complete arbitrary number. Depending on where I shop, my current dress size varies across 5 sizes. Also my bottom half is not the same dress size as my top half, so depending on what item I’m buying my size fluctuates.
Needless to say I’ve been on practically every diet invented from Weight Watchers to Cambridge, almost constantly for a decade since my early teens. I started going to the gym at college when became the lead singer of my first proper band. Over the years I have collapsed three times in the gym through lack of food – once naked in the communal shower and was picked up by the cleaner, bless her. It’s been a constant downer, making me feel awful about myself, regardless of my countless other achievements, and my weight has fluctuated, and continues to cycle to this day.
Once I was on the treadmill during period of going to the gym four or five times a week, and my weight was generally under control – by that I mean the number on the scale was getting close to something my GP approved of. I loathed going, especially on the treadmills and other machines that just bored my silly (I didn’t mind the classes so much), and I just watched the timer on the treadmill tick down, thinking about my mum saying to me ‘don’t wish your life away’, and that that’s exactly what I was doing. A huge chunk of my precious free time was being spent doing something I loathed. Nobody wants that.
The day I let go of all of this, I remember going through another period of feeling disgustingly fat, and looking back at photos of me in my teens, only to realise I’d give anything to look like that now. It was a picture of a group of my friends outside one of our favourite nightclubs, and I was in one of my crazy outfits. I remember when the photo was taken, and thinking at the time that I was the ugliest in the bunch and I was stood in some zany position pulling a face, lest anyone actually take a serious photo of me. If I do say so myself, I looked a million bucks that night, it just took me years to realise, by which time it was too late. I realised that in another five years time, I would look back at pictures of me now with envy. It was time to enjoy myself for who I was now. Screw the scale and the dress makers.
Getting back to my beef with the word ‘health’, I have been within the recommended BMI for my height twice in my life – the first time I didn’t have a period for a year (sorry boys), the second time I was on Cambridge (a liquid diet) preparing to get into a dress for a wedding. I’m sure it’s a wonderful diet for people preparing for heart surgery and the like – but a dress? Is that healthy? When I’ve eaten so little to maintain this recommended low weight, I’ve been passing out all over the place and struggling to get through the day. Never mind the self loathing and low self esteem that goes with it.
In my line of work, I see many people with terrible self image issues. People who in my view have absolutely nothing to worry about – but then some people used to say that to me. The extreme negativity of their self talk is a huge giveaway – I recognise it myself. I have been a musical director for various theatre groups in the past and was horrified once to hear half the leading cast of one youth group had been eating tissue paper in the loo and skipping meals wherever possible – collectively anorexic, encouraging each other, all under 17. Horrifying.
As a vocal coach I have seen people’s issues related to weight in all ages of my clients; girls in particular but boys as well, which creates low self esteem and lacking in self confidence. However thin someone is, my point is that this is not healthy.
There is no point being thin if you’re miserable. I do not believe the health of someone’s mind and emotional wellbeing can or should be separated from their body. I say again, I’m not advocating being unhealthy – health is a precious thing that not everyone can enjoy – and we should not take our health for granted. But I would like to see healthier attitudes towards the wellbeing of the whole person. One of my greatest personal achievements in life so far, is the number of people who have told me I give them confidence. One young client of mine – a gorgeous, colourful, live wire of a girl said to me once ‘you’re not just teaching me music, you’re teaching me to be who I really am’. Humbling to hear, and one of the proudest moments of my career so far. And I never would have thought that a confident young woman like this would need any kind of encouragement from little old me.
I have worked with individuals in more extreme cases, who have gained confidence through singing that has lead them on to show more of an interest in their health, and consequently lose weight and become fitter as a side effect. I personally find this the healthiest approach. I have known many individuals who have dieted like crazy to get down to their target weight, and frankly look plain sick to me, and still be miserable, still loathing themselves.
I believe that in order to truly be healthy we must respect and honour our bodies, minds and emotional centres. We shouldn’t eat for comfort and we shouldn’t punish our bodies through lack of food or excessive exercise. We should participate in physical activities we enjoy as often as possible, view healthy eating as consistently cleansing and nourishing our bodies. Find a balance.
Being thin and miserable is not healthy living. Just my opinion.
3 comments
Sheila Smith
Well said Dielle.
Like you I am more comfortable in my bigger state. I haven’t time to be drained through lack of food and have a duty to people who rely on me to maintain my energy and enthusiasm. I would not be doing anyone any favours in trying to starve myself which is what I’d need to do to get down to a decent weight. I would rather be a happy larger lady than a thinner miserable one! And yes, the pressure to conform is enormous. Sxxx
Claire Stone
Beautifully written Dielle!
It really breaks my heart to think of the young you (and all the other people in the world who feel like that) not liking or loving yourself just because of an arbitrary figure and the assumptions of other people. So glad that you are, by loving your whole self now, being a great example to other people in the world.
DiElle
Thank you Claire – it’s a lesson I wish I’d learned earlier, but I’m glad I learned at all!
Dx