Katie Hopkins. Just where do you begin when discussing a woman whose job it is to generate hate, yet simultaneously craves adoration and attention from the very people she mocks? Firstly, let’s stop with the misconception that since her CBB appearance she’s merely some harmless pantomime villain. Guys, she still failed to win a show that washed up bigot Jim Davidson once claimed victory on – she’s hardly the new People’s Princess.
Now she’s out the house she’s free to continue her self-appointed role as the unofficial leader of the country’s War on Obesity. The news that the Tories are planning to cut benefits for the obese must have Katie Hopkins masturbating furiously into a mirror with excitement.
What’s your vice for the times when you actually ‘can’t cope’? Booze is an obvious one. Drugs for a lot – some even self-harm – but, more common than you think, a load of us would rather cut ourselves a slice of cake, rather than a couple of lines of coke. So why are we still so ashamed to admit it? Why are there fewer stigmas attached to snorting beak than there is stuffing your face until you’re feeling sick?
You know that episode of Sex and the City in which Miranda has to cover the cake in her bin with washing up liquid to stop herself eating it? That’s me at least once a week. When you channel your inner Sex and the City character, let’s be honest, you only ever want it to be Samantha Jones.
Like a lot of girls, my weight fluctuates. Sometimes I’m in great shape (yet never feel the need to be all #fitfam) and then at times I can’t even say ‘sweatpants are all that fit me right now’ as even they’ve got too tight. No matter what size I am, food is on my mind 24/7 and binging, purging and overeating occurs. I’m a girl who loves a bargain (aka a cheap bitch) but I can’t bulk buy anything food wise as I can’t be trusted to have it in the house – Costco is wasted on me. If something bad happens, you’re more likely to find me running down the confectionary aisle rather than drinking vodka straight like they do in the soaps. I’m more ashamed to admit all this than I am to talk about the times I’ve drank so much I’ve been sick in my sleep. (If my mum is reading this, I was tricked into binge drinking.)
We’re forever hearing about the strain smokers put on the NHS but it seems 2015 is going to be the year we talk about how much obesity is costing the taxpayer. Let’s compare the two addictions; the support for giving up cigarettes is there in abundance, yet it’s far easier to give up nicotine than it is to lose a couple of stone (I speak from experience having done both). You can get patches from the NHS, quit packs – you can even get a bloody app. Yet the biggest pro of all is that you can just quit cold turkey. You can vow never to smoke another ciggie again (it never happens, ‘last ones’ are just far too good) , you can bin every bit of smoking paraphernalia you have and remove yourself from situations that give you the urge to light up. Can you do that with food? Can you vow never to eat again? Can you flush your fridge down the toilet? For the first few months of quitting, can you avoid any event which will involve food? No, it’s simply impossible. When smokers walk into the office and declare they’re giving up an 8 quid a day, unhealthy habit, they receive support – regardless of the fact it’s maybe the 9th time they’ve tried this year. But when Fat Sandra from accounts comes in and announces that she’s on another diet, eyes roll and people still feel the need to push cake on her – “Oh come on, one little piece won’t hurt.”
If you can’t relate then I understand that you might think I’m being a bit sensitive right now but just think about how we treat anyone with bulging waistline. Katie Hopkins thinks it’s as simple as yelling ‘Eat less, move more’ at the overweight but can you imagine if we just chucked some butties at someone suffering from anorexia – “Eat, skinny! Stop being lazy and cook yourself decent meal.” Do we really think that some people are fat simply because they haven’t clocked that putting less chocolate in your mouth helps beat the bulge? Why do we have so little compassion for less aesthetically pleasing addictions?
I don’t want to blow my own trumpet but sometimes I manage to be quite witty at times. I never have to rely on mocking someone’s weight problems to do so. Sarcasm isn’t the lowest form of wit, pointing out that someone is obese for a joke is. Fat jokes are not only lazy (not as lazy as chubbies, though #lol #bantz #ladz) but, more often than not, just unnecessarily cruel. Take the BBC Sporf parody account, for example – a few weeks ago they tweeted the image of a young overweight lad, wearing a football shirt and taking a selfie. The football team happened to be sponsored by ‘Just Eat’ so you can work out the side splittingly funny caption, yes? His face wasn’t blurred out or pixilated and I doubt he’d given his permission to be mocked online to nearly 800k people, yet I seemed to be the only one calling them out for being unfunny bellends.
I’m not saying I’m an angel, God no. I’m one of the first to look at a girl squeezing into a dress a size too small and think “Oh girl, just go to Next if you’re that desperate to be wearing a size 12”. I’m forever reading interviews with Lauren Goodger, depressed about her weight, and thinking “Sod the diet love – Just get a pair of control pants and dress for your shape.” However, there is a huge difference between that, and making fun of an obese woman for simply wearing shorts and a t-shirt on a blistering hot day, for example.
Maybe we do have an obesity problem in this country, but we’ve got an even bigger problem with how we treat those battling an addiction. If you fail to show compassion towards others then it doesn’t matter whether you can fit into size 6 jeans or not – you’re being weighed down by negativity.
Originally published for Scouse Bird Problems. Below are some links to more content I have provided for the site: