I record every Oprah on my DVR even though I'm not interested in every show because I got tired of seeing a commercial for an episode that did catch my attention and missing it. I finally got around to watching the one with Portia de Rossi from last week. She was talking about her experiences that fed her novel "Unbearably Light," about her eating disorders, her sexuality and how she got to the good place she's in today. She told a story about scoring a L'Oreal campaign and going to a fitting where she had to try on all these suits to decide what would work for an upcoming commercial. None of them fit. 15 size 4 skirts in, she was feeling pretty shitty, only to have the stylist frustratedly tell the producer that "No one told me she's a size 8." Wow. I fondly remember my experiences as a model, but I know that my distance from it (4yrs now!) has allowed me to romanticize it somewhat. My stomach hurt for her just retelling her story. I can remember several go-sees where I just couldn't get the zipper up, button those pants, or could see the side seams screaming for mercy. Feeling like complete crap, thinking about every carb that I probably shouldn't have eaten the last weekend. And I was a size four, which is pretty damn thin for 5'11". Those samples that they send around with trunk shows are ridiculously tiny for women 5'9"+ to fit into. And even though I never got so far as to develop an eating disorder, I relate to feeling proud and in control that I had the discipline to watch what I ate, exercise diligently and get down to a size two so that wouldn't happen to me anymore. So that I could work every job. And that felt pretty hardcore, so I can hardly imagine the neurotic places her mind went to get down to a mere 82lbs.
I don't miss that pressure one bit.