13/07/2026
NEW BLOG: CAN WE PLEASE STOP TALKING ABOUT WEIGHT?
Is it just me or has society completely had a meltdown when it comes to weight? Amanda Holden is in the headlines today talking about what she eats in a day as though it's breaking news. Who gives a f**k? Nobody asked.
The other day I gave someone a lift home and within minutes the conversation had turned to weight-loss jabs. Which one's the best? Who's lost the most? Who's put it all back on again? Who's got the prescription? Again, I hadn't asked. I was perfectly happy talking about literally anything else but somehow, once again, a woman's body had become the most fascinating topic in the car.
Then there's the friend who regularly asks me what have I eaten today. Why? Am I under investigation? Have I accidentally signed up to some sort of nutritional surveillance programme?
I'm a grown ass woman. I don't need my daily menu audited by anyone. Imagine if instead we asked people, "What book have you read this week?" "What podcast are you enjoying?" or "What's the funniest thing that's happened to you today?" Now those are conversations I'm invested in.
Somewhere along the line it's become perfectly normal to ask women to account for every mouthful they consume, as though our value depends on whether we've had a salad or a slice of cake.
And don't even get me started on social media.
A woman can post a photograph celebrating a business success, a family milestone, a holiday or simply because she feels good about herself, and without fail some random man feels compelled to offer his expert opinion. And more often than not, he is someone who looks like he's been assembled from leftover body parts, sporting questionable facial hair, a profile picture from 2009 and an ego wildly disproportionate to his appearance.
Nobody asked you Trevor, go back in your shed.
The irony is that many of these keyboard critics wouldn't dream of walking up to another bloke in the pub and saying, "You've piled on a few pounds, mate," because they'd probably end up wearing their pint. But women? Apparently we're public property. Our faces, our bodies, our wrinkles, our weight, our clothes... all fair game for public discussion by complete strangers who somehow believe their opinion is both wanted and valuable.
Since when did commenting on someone's body become a substitute for having an actual personality? Whether it's praise or criticism, why are we so fixated on people's appearance? "You've lost weight!" has become the modern-day version of hello. We notice shrinking waistlines before we notice someone's achievements, happiness or resilience. That's a pretty sad reflection of where we've ended up.
Don't get me wrong. If someone wants weight-loss injections, brilliant. If they want to lose three stone, fantastic. If they love lifting weights five days a week, good for them. If they nurse a packet of kettle chips every night in front of the telly, that's brilliant too.
This isn't about weight-loss jabs.
It's about our relentless obsession with body size, and it's exhausting. Worse than that, it's dangerous, especially for my daughters and every other young girl growing up believing her body is the most interesting thing about her.
We've reduced people's worth to calories, dress sizes, protein goals, macros, fasting windows and before-and-after photos. Every other conversation seems to revolve around diets, cheat days or the latest miracle solution promising to transform your life by next Tuesday.
Being good when I was growing up meant not getting arrested, showing up for work everyday and being a kind person. Not whether I skipped dessert.
It's as though we've collectively forgotten that human beings are fascinating for reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with the circumference of their waist.
How about talking about ambition, travel, family, music, funny stories, current affairs and dreams?
Literally anything else.
Life is far too short to spend it obsessing over our own bodies and policing everyone else's. I am going on a cruise in November and I plan to show up at every restaurant at every mealtime and eat my way through the entire menu.
And I can absolutely guarantee that if you died tomorrow, nobody would stand up at your funeral and say, "She was a wonderful woman, and her BMI was an impressive 23.4."
They're going to remember how you made them feel. They'll remember your laugh, your kindness, your courage, your generosity, the times you showed up when it mattered, the memories you created and the lives you touched.
I spend most of my time in Cyprus living in bikinis and do you know what I've discovered? Nobody actually gives a flying f**k what I look like on the beach. We spend years torturing ourselves over flaws that hardly anyone else even notices and if they do, so what? I don't care. People are literally holding themselves back from simple pleasures such as swimming in the sea just because they're obsessed about their image.
For God's sake, stop asking women what they've eaten.
Stop treating strangers' bodies as if they're open for public review.
Stop assuming your opinion on someone else's appearance is so important that it simply has to be shared.
And stop believing that someone's weight is the most valuable thing about them.
When I die, I hope people remember my love of life, the business I built, the people I helped, the risks I took, the laughter I shared and the memories I left behind.
Not my dress size.
You're Going To Die So Do It Anyway: Reinventing your life with intention
