Angst-ridden young women who hate their bodies
It’s a phenomenon that was unknown 40 years ago. But psychologists and doctors are increasingly worried by the generation of . . .
Ateenage girl’s sense of self-worth has always been an incredibly fragile thing. But never more so than today, with the potential to seek out social approval, or feel wounded by rejection, every time she looks at her phone.
Children clearly need help to both nurture and protect this precious commodity because the impact that losing it can have on a young woman’s life is devastating, as we have witnessed first hand on countless occasions.
With around 80 per cent of today’s women and girls readily admitting unhappiness with their looks, to describe poor self-image as a scourge on our daughters’ lives is no exaggeration.
a recent survey found only 39 per cent of girls in the UK had high body esteem ( it’s 46 per cent globally which is damning enough). In other words, less than half of British girls aged between ten and 17 are happy with the way they look.
as clinical psychologists specialising in body image issues, we know there’s plenty we can do to help modern youngsters build better relationships with themselves as physical beings.
But first, we need to get inside their heads so we can properly understand what’s going on here.
Of course, there’s nothing new about teenage girls and young women feeling uncomfortable in their own skin.
Many of today’s mothers will remember facing their own youthful inner struggle to overcome the horrible feeling that they weren’t quite good enough. Only to eventually grasp the immeasurable value of the non-physical attributes that truly define us.
But as today’s children grow up, they do so while navigating an online landscape that presents appearance as the only social currency that truly matters.
With the approval of their peers coming largely via reactions to the pictures they post of themselves on social media, it’s hardly surprising the majority live with a gnawing sense they are somehow lacking. We need to help steer them in healthier directions.
BUt first we must get to grips with how our daughters view themselves, and, just as importantly, how they believe the wider world looks back at them.
negative body image, which predominantly causes distress in females, can range from a teenage girl wishing her hair was a little thicker or her lips that bit fuller; to someone convinced they don’t have a relationship because they’re the ugly duckling within their peer group; to a young woman emotionally crippled and socially isolated because she thinks she looks so repugnant that she offends anyone unfortunate enough to look upon her.
Body dissatisfaction in its most extreme form is known as Body Dysmorphic Disorder, or BDD. this is a psychological disorder, causing sufferers crippling obsessive anxiety over their appearance, and an area in which we specialise.
Patients suffering from this, genuinely believe society is deeply offended by their physical features; this blights their lives.
We’re talking about normal and pleasant looking people. Yet, when they look into a mirror something truly hideous and inhuman is reflected back. Of course, BDD is at the far end of a spectrum that spans every kind of dissatisfaction a person might have over their appearance. and it affects men and women equally.
thankfully, most people sit a long way from the true body dysmorphic end of that spectrum. But in a world where young people increasingly find validation through online ‘likes’ for their looks, it’s worryingly easy for them to travel the wrong way along this destructive path.
there are plenty who will say this is simply the way of things now. that the online world our daughters — and sons — inhabit, is one we can’t ever hope to fully understand. But the troubling truth is that our children are fearful of the impact poor self-image is having on their own mental health.
earlier this month the Youth Select Committee published a report entitled a Body Confident Future, which urged MPs to address the growing issue of body dissatisfaction among young people. Made up of 11 youngsters aged 13 to 18, the committee heard from expert witnesses, including bloggers, social-media companies, teachers and mental-health professionals.
they now want decisive action from Parliament.
this includes the introduction of minimum standards for social media companies on content moderation, measures to improve the diversity of advertising campaigns and funding for schools so pupils are better supported on
issues of body dissatisfaction. the report says: ‘Body dissatisfaction must be recognised as a serious issue which potentially affects every young person.’ We couldn’t agree more. But we can’t sit around waiting for government action — as parents, we can help our own children now. It’s daunting, we know. that’s why we decided to offer a unique insight into the mind of someone who suffered from her teens and into early adulthood with debilitating body image issues. her story will put you in a far better position to understand what might be going on inside your own child’s — or grandchild’s — head. to compare Chloe Catchpole as she is now to how she was when we first met her four years ago — timid, desperately shy and uncomfortable in her own skin — is like looking at two different people. she is confident and able to fully appreciate how she is defined by far more than her looks. then, her negative obsession with her appearance ruled every waking moment. here, with great openness and emotional intelligence, Chloe, 24, of horsham, West sussex, talks about the negative thoughts that turned poor body image into the most destructive bane of her life.
Chloe says:
Clearly, mine is an extreme example of the insidious body dissatisfaction that affects vast numbers of young girls today. yet, my problems started in much the same way as it does for so many teenagers who, like me, harbour negative feelings about themselves at a time of their lives when appearance becomes terribly important to them. I was 15 when I first began comparing my looks unfavourably to my friends. It was little things at first: I’d admire their hair and wish mine wasn’t so thin; their skin tone seemed much more even than mine; I’d think how nice it would be to be a bit taller, thinner or slightly longer limbed.
I’d waste a few minutes on this, but could still brush off my insecurities and carry on with my life. thankfully, at this time, social media was still in its infancy; the internet had yet to become the place someone like me would search for validation.
If it had been, I predict I’d have spiralled into body dysmorphic disorder much more quickly.
As it was, over the next year I started analysing photos of myself, looking for physical faults and ways I might have held myself differently to appear in a more flattering light. If a birthday or another exciting occasion loomed, I began anticipating the moment the cameras would come out with dread, fretting about how I might make myself look better. Imagine how much more scope I’d have had to compare myself to others if Instagram and snapchat had been what they are today; if I’d been able to pull up thousands of images that had been filtered and airbrushed to unattainable perfection to pit myself against.
this is what today’s girls and young women do routinely — little wonder they constantly feel themselves to be lacking. throughout my final year at school, dissatisfaction turned into despair as I became increasingly convinced of how horrible I looked.
Whether I was sat in class, out with friends or just watching tV, endless thoughts about my appearance invaded my mind. I began looking at myself at every opportunity — up to six hours a day I’d stare into a mirror obsessing over my faults, trying to cover them with layers of make-up. I used the magnifying side of the mirror, which would blow up every line and every pore. I began to think that this was how others actually saw me. My horror was mixed with a sense of betrayal — why hadn’t anyone told me how huge my pores were and how hairy my face had become? I started to question whether I could trust my closest friends, when they’d easily hidden how repulsed they must have felt when looking at me. As my reality increasingly warped, I was convinced there was a huge lump on the side of my neck. there was nothing there, yet I wrapped a big scarf around my neck to try to hide it. Later at college, I’d find any excuse to go to the toilet to look in the mirror. If someone came in I’d pretend to wash my hands, waiting for them to leave so I could check my appearance again. this wasn’t vanity — I was desperately looking for some glimpse of normality, but found only faults. Now I realise the reflection I saw wasn’t me — just the perceived flaws. to me, it was a gargoyle staring back from the mirror. By 19, I had quit college and lived as a recluse; on the rare occasions I left the house I was convinced people were staring at me because I was so ugly. When family or friends came over I remained upstairs, determined not to ruin their visit by forcing them to have to look at me. sometimes, I’d try to come down and be a part of things, plastering on make-up to try and make myself a little more acceptable. But I’d look at the end result, and it just wouldn’t seem right.
By the time I’d taken it all off, layered it back on and decided I still wasn’t good enough, I’d be a crumpled and exhausted mess on my bed, fit only for sleep.
eventually my mum persuaded me to see our GP, who prescribed anti-depressants and referred me to various therapists.
It was a cognitive behavioural therapist who suggested I was probably suffering from body dysmorphic disorder. emboldened, I told my mum a little of what was going on inside my head.
From that moment onwards, a small idea started to fight to be heard — a voice that wanted me to consider that my problem might just be psychological rather than physical.
this epiphany ultimately led to a formal diagnosis and a referral to Lauren and Annemarie’s consulting rooms in London, where Lauren helped me to understand how the thought processes in my head were conjuring up the monster I could see in the mirror. And how I could begin to control them rather than them control me.
I’m still working at quelling that destructive voice inside my head. But today I’m able to live a more fulfilling life, developing my career as a film critic, and building up a busier social life.
there are many lessons others can learn from how negative self-image all but destroyed me.
FIrst, don’t underestimate the power that social media has on your child’s psyche — you can’t dismiss or trivialise the importance they place on those ‘ likes’ from their friends and comments under their selfies.
Accept it, and then start a dialogue where you dissect social media and expose it for what it is: a place where people put out the very best versions of themselves so what we see is no longer real.
remind them that celebrities get acne and have bad hair days just like anyone else. they just don’t post evidence of that online.
these are the conversations they won’t be having with their peers. It’s easy to assume your daughter or granddaughter is just vain because she wants to be permanently selfie-ready; but if you can properly grasp the culture she’s growing up in, then it’s easier to see that when she frets over her appearance she’s really just trying to be like everyone else.
If you can help her to see the bigger picture — that life is about being happy rather than just looking as though you are — she’ll embrace the person reflected back at her instead of hating her the way I did.
n BODY Image Problems And Body Dy sm orphic Disorder:
The Definitive Treatment And Recovery Approach by Dr Lauren Callaghan,