Of skeletons and the rest of us.

I, as a feminist and a girl with a real body, completely abhor starlets that starve themselves stick-thin.

Hate it.
It's totally unnecessary.

And devestating.
Both to the stars who starve, and to the rest of us who watch as society and the media parade these girls and their protuding clavicles as tantamount beauty.

I understand they live in a fishbowl- and a fishbowl with a very extreme and harsh sense of what is beautiful- but come on.

Come the fuck on.

My example? Kate Bosworth.


I have a love-hate relationship with KB, because while I think she is gorgeous (refer above, non?) and I adore her fashion sense (and taste in men- have you seen Orlando Bloom?), I hate that she punished her body to a double-zero.

Allow me to illustrate:

Right, circa Blue Crush. Left, circa Superman.

See the difference?
Heavens.
Word was she subsisted on cigarettes- and not much else.

Can't you tell? Look at the chest. Look. Bones. It's downright skeletal on the Superman picture... Scary skeletal.
Her head looks massive- classic Lollipop, a condition developed after many months of abstaining from any and all nutrition.
Where did the muscle tone go? The beautiful cheeks? The amazing, All-American glow? The subtle curves?

Now, fortunately, KB has put on a bit of weight and looking much, much, much better:

Left, last year, near the bottom of the Starvation Cycle. Right, a few months ago (in stunning Chloe) at an event.

You see? You see what eating on a regular basis does for the body (and the soul)?

Love her style, always have. Now love her for beating whatever the hell possessed her to swear off food. Good, KB. Very good.

I love fashion, I love celebrity, I love glamour and beauty and all that jazz. But I also love my health. And my working organs. And my bones staying inside my skin, not jutting out.

And I refuse to believe that you have to be that thin unnaturally. I refuse.

Hope you do, too.

Ta.
savvy