The Hate Can Weight.

Now I will not pretend to be a Lady Gaga superfan, or one of her "little monsters", but I have to get this off my chest... Leave Gaga alone.

The tabloids have erupted in a storm of Gaga slandering. And why, you ask? Well, the madwoman has gained a few pounds. What a disgusting pig.

It makes me feel sick to read some of the truly awful articles published about a the "decidedly meatier" singer.  Led, of course, by The Daily Mail's addictive gossip website the press have been ripping Lady Gaga to shreds, blaming her weight gain on her drug dependence (huh?) and suggesting she has piled on a whopping 30 lbs.

The aptly nicknamed Daily Fail (christened by the goddesses at The Vagenda) have published a series of appalling articles. They suggest she "hides fuller figure under an oversized coat" and, most shockingly of all, that "despite her recent weight gain, Lady Gaga was polite to fans." And this is journalism?! Give. Me. A. Break.

Lady Gaga has responded by posting pictures of herself in her underwear, standing up to these bullies as only she knows how, and has bravely got on with it, despite this horrible abuse.

I'm not suggesting that Gaga does not expose herself to such criticism. She is a worldwide celebrity and is of course going to be subject to tabloid gossip, but what really gets me about this article is how it portrays "fat" as a terrible thing, something to be ashamed of, something that actually turns you into a nasty person.

This is the problem with modern media. Articles about severely anorexic girls are published alongside this vitriol, yet not a peep is uttered about how these "fattist" attitudes affect young women and men. Yes, Lady Gaga may have gained a few pounds but she has no obligation to be skinny, if she is happy and healthy then so be it- it is none of our business and I don't doubt for one second that the vile "journalist" who sat behind their desk typing up these ludicrous taunts will have been a good few pounds heavier than Lady Gaga. Not that it matters, of course.

The fact of the matter is that our beauty ideals are narrowing even further. The recent airbrushed images of Karlie Kloss, where her skeletal ribs have been smoothed over, shows that we are being fed a false image of perfection. Her emaciated body has been concealed, suggesting that you can be so very tiny but still be "healthy", with no savagely protruding bones. It is truly shocking.

The final straw in the whole Lady Gaga debacle is that Lady Gaga is a recovered bulimic. Everyone knows it, she has talked about the harrowing effects of this eating disorder, yet still the tabloids decide to rip into her for gaining a few pounds? If they had even an inkling of decency, these articles would not have been published, but still, they were and the subsequent media storm has drawn even more traffic to the trashy Daily Mail website. Bulimia is a truly horrible illness, a slippery slope that it is devastatingly hard to break away from. When you begin to purge, it is extremely difficult to stop, and before you know it you are sneaking into bathrooms after dinner, tears streaming down your face, feeling like there is no alternative.

I completely support Lady Gaga on this, and I think she still looks great. I could not care less about her gaining a few pounds, and nobody else has any right to attack her for this. Get a grip, there are far more important things than being thin.

And, on that note, i'm going to go lust over the Nutella pizza i'll be indulging in at Ping this evening. Because I can. Take that Mail Online writers, feel free to comment on my meatier frame if it makes you feel THAT much better about yourselves.

Pursuit of Prettiness: Road to Rapunzel

1. Hair Growth Shampoo £6.99
2. Hair Growth Treatment £7.99
3. Hair Growth Conditioner £6.99
SHOP HERE.

As you know from my previous post on hair regrowth (see it here), I am struggling to get some life back into my slightly dreary locks. However, shock horror, my hair is starting to grow- I HAVE ROOTS!

So, to ensure that this growth keeps on going, and I can get myself a nice mop of Middleton-esque hair, I have decided to invest in a whole lotta nourishing treatments for my locks.

Having read great things about the Lee Stafford Hair Growth collection, I had to give it a go. It's been in rather high demand since it's recent launch and until now I have not been able to get my hands on the full collection but, thanks to the big fat Boots in Westfield, I have now got the full collection standing pride of place on my shelf.

The collection comprises of three products: the shampoo, the treatment and the conditioner, all promising to nourish hair at the roots and therefore stimulate healthy and luscious growth. It also smells rather tasty.

Last night I gave it a little try and I have to say i'm muchas impressed. I began (obviously) with the shampoo, working it into a creamy, luxurious lather that belies it's £6.99 price tag. Mr Lee Stafford then directed me to pop a big egg-sized dollop of the treatment on to my hair and leave for five minutes to work it's magic. Washing the rich treatment out, my hair already lovely and silky, and just a teensy bit of conditioner was required to lock the moisture into my parched locks.

Blow drying my hair as normal, I noticed that it felt unbelievably smooth- as of yet I have not noticed some gigantic growth spurt, but give it time! The healthier the hair, the faster it grows, and this treatment is perhaps the best I have tried, especially given it's fabulous price (it even beats Bumble & Bumble Mending Masque I reckon!)

I definitely recommend giving it a go if you're looking to give your hair a little TLC, or just wish to mix up your shower routine.

Pursuit of Prettiness: It's A Hair Mare

I’ve not done a Pursuit of Prettiness post in a while, so here’s a big’un. This year, as most of you probably know, I’ve been struggling with an eating disorder and all it’s effects. As much as everything seemed to go horribly wrong, one of the little things that really got to me was how much hair I lost.

Ew. I know, right? I sound like an old man- except i'm a girl and balding at 18!

The lack of nutrition in my body meant that my hair was the last of my worries and, thus, became brittle and started breaking off, while no more grew. I was repeatedly asked if I’d cut my hair, but it had just all fallen out, sometimes in clumps. I’ve seen tweets from girls needlessly seeking to lose weight saying things like “the worse part about losing weight is losing your boobs” to which every bone in my body longs to reply “wait until you lose your hair…”

The great phrase: ‘you don’t realise what you have until it’s gone’ seems applicable here (not in a dramatic sense). I took my long, soft honey blonde hair for granted for all those years. I never had thick, glossy locks but I had beachy waves on holiday and my hair went nice and golden in the sun. It suited me so much more than the bleached, dry straggles that have hung from my scalp for the best part of a year. I feel so ugly without my long hair.

In March, as I started to gain the weight that is making me look so very repugnant at present, I decided to go for the chop. I headed to Cobella in Selfridges and had my shoulder length hair cut into a swishy bob. At first I loved it, but it really didn’t take long for the novelty to wear off. I WANT MY HAIR BACK.

So this P.O.P post is dedicated to those looking to grow their hair, either as part of recovery from an eating disorder, or just because you too have made the decision to cut off your hair without fully considering it.

Here are my tips for sustaining hair growth that, so far, have worked for me. It looks like these tips are working, so please do let me know if you have any others!

EAT WELL

It’s such an obvious one but starving your body of the nutrients it needs immediately affects your hair, skin and nails. You really need to nourish your hair from the inside out. Protein is crucial, think nuts, fish and eggs. A healthy diet will show in your overall appearance, regardless of your weight.

SCALP MASSAGE

This is a little tip I got from my friend Harriet (an annoyingly gorgeous budding beauty journalist with a fantastic little blog here) for which I am eternally grateful! I have only been doing it for just over a week but have immediately noticed a difference to the volume and strength of my hair. Massaging your scalp for around 3-5 minutes a day makes a world of difference. Just massage your scalp gently as you condition your hair and it shall stimulate the growth of the hair. It also feels pretty darn nice. I like to treat myself to Bumble & Bumble Mending Masque which I put on, massage my scalp for around five minutes (bit of a bicep workout to be honest!) then leave the masque for a further 10 minutes. My hair is soft, glossy and looks so much healthier as a result.

SEA KELP

Another little tip from the lovely Harriet. Supposedly sea kelp tablets (which you can buy from Holland and Barrett- in the penny sale just now!) help promote the healthy growth of hair. There is, as of yet, no scientific proof of this but seaweed is iron-rich and therefore sure to be beneficial. It should take a while for me to see the results, but I shall let you know if this really does work. Harriet says she’s noticed a difference in her hair and has had it recommended to her by a few friends so I’d definitely suggest giving it a try.

BLOW DRY HAIR STRAIGHT 

Rather than ironing your hair every day, as I used to do, try blow drying it straight with a ceramic barrel brush, using a heat protector product to keep the condition (my favourite heat protector is the GHD one but i'm not fussy!)

MOROCCAN OIL 

I have heard great things about Moroccan Oil for assisting hair growth. I personally have not tried the Morroccanoil brand, but am very keen to. I actually use Keihls Argan Oil on the ends of my hair to keep it smooth. It is a weekly treat for my hair and I have started to massage my scalp with a few drops of Argan oil as well as applying a little to the midlengths and ends of my hair. It does promote strength of hair as well as length and there is very little better for your hair! Just don’t overdo the hair oil as fine hair is more prone to greasiness.

Hopefully you have found these tips reasonably helpful and please do let me know any more tips you may have on hair growth (recovery or not!) as I’m all ears! I’ll let you know how my hair progresses… As I’m sure you’re riveted. 

Baby Steps

I wrote this piece, again, as a possible personal reflection article for theVogue Talent Contest, and felt there may be some of you who would be interested. Hope you enjoy, and hope it gets you thinking.

There are defining moments in life. Those little events that change everything, be that for the better or for the worse. For some it could be exam results, for others a first kiss. For some people, though, defining moments in life become worthless, and instead they live a life overshadowed by their mind.

The taboo of mental illness is one that has plagued society for so long. It is their own fault, say unknowing cynics. Self indulgent, say others. These comments, cruel and narrow minded, just add to the softness of the topic. No one wants to talk about it, because it is difficult to understand until you have witnessed it first hand.

Anorexia is the mental illness with the highest death rate, yet so few people actually understand it as such. “Eat a pie!” they cry, as if buttery pastry will block out the vicious voice within. What we do not realise is that this crippling illness destroys the mind as much as it does the body. It tears apart families and scrunches up potential, all in the pursuit of warped beauty.

Nowadays there is a wealth of writing about eating disorders. It ranges from seemingly innocuous comments about skinny models, to full reports examining the effect of the media on body image, but rarely is this writing sympathetic to the emotional turmoil that a sufferer faces. We hear of the deaths, the dark physical effects of malnutrition, but we do not scratch the surface of this maddening condition.

I did not, until I slipped into an obsessive cycle of skipping meals and pushing my body to its limit. Substantial meals would immediately be expelled from my body to avoid the incessant guilt, and I would wear my protruding ribcage like a trophy as I deteriorated into a childlike state of fragility. So far, so standard, and with each pound that dropped off, I became increasingly unbearable.

This is not merely a record of how it felt to live each day ruled by hunger. This is not a sob story, or a generic attack on fashion magazines; this is an empathetic account of anorexia, just as I try to escape its clutches.

Breathlessly pounding the treadmill days before my leavers dance, I glanced in the mirror. The thinnest in the hall, pointed elbows and sinewy arms, I would finish these forty minutes and then it would not matter that I had eaten ten grams more cereal than usual. I would walk back from the gym, before writing a blog post and completing my hundred crunches. “It will stop in a few days,” I told myself, “just once prom is over.”

Hair done, and just an hour before the dance, I began my make-up. A mask of foundation to hide my blemished skin and swirls of blusher to add the colour that starvation drained, I then unsuccessfully attempted to apply my false eyelashes and broke down. I sobbed, useless and ugly, longing to scream. Too much pressure and stress, I presumed, avoiding the blatantly obvious fact that this frustration was nothing but hunger.

The elegant Max Azria dress was bought months in advance and it fit beautifully, softly shaping my waist. Minutes before leaving, I carefully zipped it up, thrilled as it gaped at my hollow chest. This disturbing thrill should have been enough to make me stop but, of course, anorexia was ingrained in my mind and anything resembling common sense was gone. At the leavers dance I just drank, and did not eat, before avoiding an after party and retiring to my bed.

It should have stopped there, simple as that, but it did not. I ate less and less before being admitted to a specialist doctor for psychotherapy. I sat on the torn sofas, waiting to say all the right things and trick them into thinking I was fine, and then I saw the patients. A girl, younger than myself, hobbled past, leaning on a walking stick. Her matchstick legs looked ready to collapse as the veins throbbed on her hands and feet. Her head down, her expression was of heart-breaking misery. I felt sick. Another passed, her leggings gaping, clumps of her hair missing as she shivered, clinging to a cup of black coffee. These women had become manifestations of the demons that ruled their life and I could not bear to live my life in the same vain.

An eating disorder is all pervading. Every day I count myself lucky that I am working towards recovery. These girls, fading away, are no longer themselves, they are defined by an illness with no cure. If they do not want to recover, they wont.  It is a poignant, heart-breaking thought, but there is more to anorexia than wanting to be skinny.