Whenever I hear my girlfriends talking about weight, I have a feeling that there is actually something else going on, than just a worry about the number on a scales.
Why are we so focused on how much muscles and fat we (and other people) carry around?
There are so many shapes and forms, endless variations of proportions, sizes and colors, but, instead of celebrating that diversity, we punish ourselves (and others!) for not fitting into this one, “perfect”, media-invented category.
It makes me actually sad, all that fight for the “ideal” body, for which most of us are not made. I mean, we are the only animals who think that they should have a different body form, that the one we have been given, right?
That pursuit of “beauty”, nourished generously and consciously by media, causes nothing but sadness. Healthy, smart, strong women look at themselves in the mirrors with disgust and disrespect, instead of enjoying their lives.
It makes me sad, as photographer, that women don’t want to be photographed, because they are “too old”, or “first need to lose 10 kg”, or do whatever else they have been told to believe.
We complain that there is not enough representation of all kinds of women in media, but where do these images should come from?