I don’t mind admitting that I have a smidgen of a girl crush on Dawn Porter. It’s not the sort of crush that inspires knicker tingles, she just has an air about her which makes me think ‘wow she’s really cool’. I suppose I would describe it as being in awe of her, the boys I live with might refer to it as the ‘willoughbizzle effect’ whereby two of them get inane grins on their faces whenever Holly Willoughby comes on telly. Especially if she is wearing something girlie/squeaking/pretending to be a cat and etc.
Dawn Porter first came to light when scrolling through the tv guide our attention was drawn to the temptingly odd title ‘Dawn goes Lesbian’ of an hour long show on Beeb Three. Not ones to pass up on such titillation, and because let’s face it it sounded interesting, we settled down to watch. Since that first foray in to Dawn’s world where she examined her sexuality we’ve watched her give birth fully-clothed to a plastic baby in a paddling pool whilst screaming her head off and more recently, getting naked.
It’s the getting naked part that fascinated me most because post surgery I have been fascinated with shapes and sizes of other women’s bodies as if I am trying to guesstimate what my figure might look like when I’ve shrunk. The other day whilst at lunch with Lady Headstrong I actually tracked a woman with my eyes as she walked past as I was enthralled by the sight of someone as tall as me who was slim. The underlying message of Dawn’s programme was an attack levelled at the glossies about the amount of photo-shopping that goes on behind the scenes to make their models look faaahhbulous. The show culminated in Dawn asking women to get naked with her before going on a London bus in a flash-mob style girl power assault on the senses to reclaim their rights to be naked and wobbly!
I don’t think I’ve been affected by the glossies like some women think they are because until now, the idea of me being able to be ‘conventionally’ beautiful has never been in my head. Yes I realise I’ve probably just alienated feminists all over the globe by describing a ‘conventional’ beauty as I understand that those in the know would say that beauty is anything but conventional and look at Agyness Deyn/Karen Elson and yadda yadda yadda but to me, having been a big fat heifer for all of my life there is such a thing as conventional beauty. That beauty is being a normal size, having nice white shiny teeth, long glossy hair and being comfortable in my own skin. It is not about being so bony my ribs stick out, or so underweight my face gets furry, capice? Rather than drooling over Keira Knightley/Eva Longoria-Parker/anyone skinny enough to feature on the cover of Glamour, I find myself admiring women with healthy figures who don’t feel the need to starve, binge, purge in order to be happy.