Ciara O’Connor and Sophie Donaldson
Whether shop mannequins are too slim is a distraction we don’t need. There is no such thing as a normal body, writes Sophie Donaldson
ANOTHER piece of kindling has been thrown into the fiery debate around body image, in the form of a research paper released last week from the University of Liverpool’s Institute of Psychology, Health and Society.
It was a study of the size of shop mannequins — and whether they have detrimental effects on body image (of humans, not other mannequins). The research was published in The Journal of Eating Disorders and is available to read in its entirety online.
Because no shops would let the researchers in to measure their mannequins, they instead relied on a visual rating scale to determine whether the mannequins were deemed underweight. The study found that 100pc of the female mannequins were “medically unhealthy”. Its publication prompted headlines reporting “unrealistic” and “disturbingly thin” mannequins, although the paper surmises its findings with this:
“It is important to note that the present research does not tell us whether ultra-thin fashion mannequins have any observable direct effect on body image, but we presume that the widespread use of inappropriate mannequin body sizes may reinforce unrealistic body ideals in some people.”
To make the linear presumption that skinny mannequins could cause eating disorders skims over the complexities of body image and the ongoing discourse over women’s bodies. It is an unrelenting dialogue that females are presented with before they even hit puberty and that gets more aggressive as they mature.
This particular piece of research repeatedly uses the phrase “appropriate” when discussing body size. I can think of no less appropriate term to describe a body, flesh or fibreglass, perhaps other than that most damaging of all epithets — “normal”. Normal is both sweepingly vague and cripplingly specific. To classify one body type as normal implies that everyone else is abnormal. The implication is that it equates to ‘real’, which is a type of airbrush-free, warts-and-all version of the human body that we consistently recoil from. Kim’s dimpled bottom, Amy Schumer’s stomach rolls, Lena Dunham’s everything on Girls — we have been bombarded with so many variations of what bodies should look like we don’t know where to look when we see it. We are told that the ideal body is a ‘normal’ one. Dove’s Real Women campaign is a much cited movement to represent ‘real’ women — but it is just another label that further confuses how we see ourselves. To reinforce its findings, the paper cites another study that gave young girls a doll “denoting a very slim body size, as opposed to a more appropriate size” which resulted in a “greater internalisation of thin ideals”. I do not have children, but I can say with confidence that the influence of digital media is far more potent than that of a doll, or a plastic mannequin.
Sure, skinny still reigns supreme on the catwalk but let’s consider Kim, Kylie, Beyonce et al who have real influence in popular culture. They have waspish waists, curvaceous bottoms, hefty cleavage and muscular thighs. Even their lips are voluptuous. They take selfies on their haunches, arching their back to narrow their waist and splaying their legs to emphasise their impressive hips. Teenagers and young women around the world follow suit as the “ultra thin ideal” wanes in favour of this new physical ideology.
After reading the research, I find it difficult to discern why it was published in The Journal of Eating Disorders. It finds no link between the findings and eating disorders, nor does it make any mention of a specific condition. In fact, it surmises its findings with a presumption which surely does far more damage than good. Eating disorders are complex conditions and plagued with misconceptions. Like all mental illnesses, they are rarely born of one particular experience or influence.
For me, it was about regaining some control on a life that had swerved into the unknown. I had moved to a new country, abandoned my career and fallen in love. I was wading through a quagmire of doubt; about my future, my identity and my decisions. To regain some stability and take back an iota of authority I began to make myself sick.
I understand these triggers now, with the glorious advantage of hindsight and good health. But at the time my preoccupation was on my body, although I was adamant I wasn’t bulimic. I could only think as far ahead as the next meal and how I would be able to undo the effects of eating it.
Eating disorders are mental illnesses manifested in physical reaction and when discussing such conditions the emphasis should be on the mind, not the body. The study suggests replacing the emancipated mannequins with more “appropriate sized” ones. My suggestion is to ditch the labels because really, there’s no such thing as a healthy body type, just a healthy body.
‘No shops would let the researchers come in to measure their mannequins...’