This Summer, I Visited a Wellness Clinic for Therapeutic Fasting and Detox, and One Day While Sunbathing, I Met a Stunning, Model-Looking Woman Lounging Nearby

This summer, I visited a wellness clinic in Bath for a detox retreat. One day, while sunbathing on a deckchair in the garden, I met a stunning girl with the look of a fashion model in her early twenties. We struck up a conversation about why wed come for fasting.

I need to lose 400 grams, she told me, straight-faced. I laughed, thinking she was joking. But noshe was deadly serious.

Ive been living like this for a year now, feeling fat. My boyfriend said hell leave if I dont slim down Looksee that? She pinched the skin on her stomach, looking embarrassed. Its mortifying to even sit down like this

That encounter haunted me for days. In my mind, she became Lisa-400-Grams. Apparently, to her boyfriend, women like me should be thrown off a cliffbecause in his perfect little Sparta, only slim girls are allowed, and the cuddly ones are surplus to requirements.

Not long after, I found myself at a big dinner with a crowd of strangersthe occasion was an anniversary at a Chelsea restaurant. A strikingly well-groomed woman sat across the table, her legs elegantly crossed so her sheer tights caught the light, making her shapely legs gleam. One high-heeled shoe dangled from her foot, and she was sipping water from a wine glass, drawing glances from every man in the room.

Then her husband arrived. He made the rounds, shaking hands and greeting the men, but when he passed her, he muttered through clenched teeth, Cover yourself up! Flashing your thighs like that

She stiffened, cheeks flaming red, and immediately asked the waiter for a rug, which she wrapped around herself even though she was sitting by the fireplace. She spent the rest of the evening huddled like a frightened bird.

At one point, I tried reading biographies of great English writers and poets, searching for the secrets of their genius in their lifestyles. I quickly gave up. Real peoplewith their commonplace weaknessesjust dont mesh in my mind with the brilliant masterpieces they produce.

The day I gave up? It was during Tolstoys biography. Anna Karenina is my favourite novel, but some facts about Tolstoys life I just couldnt stomach. Not only was he unhealthily obsessed with death and enjoyed watching its process, but after the birth of their fifth child, Mary, his wife Sophia grew very ill. She barely recovered and didnt want to give birth again; even doctors warned her body was too weakened for more pregnancies. Tolstoys response? Well, what good is she to me then?

Sophia ended up having thirteen children.

I scroll through Instagram. It’s flooded with glamorous BarbiesEnglish influencers with perfect make-up and fitness routines. Their days revolve around gym sessions, tanning salons, body wraps, spa treatments. The beauty industry works overtime to sculpt their perfect bodies. This kind of beauty is a full-time joband a costly, exhausting one.

I respect all types of work, truly. But somewhere along the way, we became confused. Girls go after a certain look to be loved. To catch the eyeand the heartof men. Theyre shown a blueprint: slim figures, plucked brows, pouty lips, peachy bottoms. They nod and race to mould themselves accordingly.

Yet now, even the men dont know how to choosetheyre faced with a queue of identical porcelain dolls.

One Saturday, my husband and I went to a garden centre on the outskirts of Surrey. He was after compost and hedge trimmers for the allotment, while I wandered among the stalls for something to do. I stumbled upon a stand selling garden ornamentsfairy lights, gnomes, wind spinners, watering cans, ceramic bunnies and foxes.

Nearby, two middle-aged blokes were sizing up some enormous garden gnomes with bright red hats that made them look like fly agaric mushrooms. One was circling the gnomes, hefting them, eyeing them close-up, while the other burst out laughing:

Come on, mate, just pick one! Yesterday you chose a prostitute with the same look on your face

Absolutely hilarious.

Girlsdear Lisa-400-Grams, Sarah-Cover-Up-Your-Thighs, Sophia-Thirteen-Children How do you put up with never loving or respecting yourselves? When did being treated like a faulty product become mistaken for love? Who convinced you that having the ideal body and face was essential for happiness?

I have a hundred examples proving external beauty and love dont connect at all.

A friend of mine met her husband on a renal ward, of all places. She won him over while pale and exhausted, wrapped in a hospital gown, a large catheter bag peeking coquettishly from under her nightie.

Have you seen Frida Kahlo? Really looked? What about those eyebrows? Exactly. The most extraordinary men of her time were captivated by her.

Years ago, I had a disastrous wisdom tooth extractionthe dentist tore my mouth, complications followed, my cheek ballooned, my jaw throbbed, and my temperature shot up. Lying at home, drooling blood, my face swollen like a pillow, I was weak as a kitten. My husband sat beside me, coaxing me to drink a bit of kefir since I couldnt swallow anything else. Inevitably, I ended up with a milky moustache, grabbed a mirror, and whispered Oh, God before bursting into tears.

He just smiled: Youre the most beautiful woman in the world, you know? Even now. Will you marry me? Marry me?

Later, when I was better, there was a dinner, a ring, a one-knee proposal, applause, balloons, flowers, and a yes.
But to this day, its that first, bedraggled declaration I remember most. Because beauty isnt about looks, and love isnt about perfection.

Our flaws make us real, make us unique. Thats what were loved forthe parts that make us ourselves. Really, perfection doesnt existor rather, it means something different to each person.

I decided recently to get bracesmy teeth genuinely are crooked. My husband supported me, but gently said:
I adore your smileI dont see why youd want to torture yourself with braces. Do it if you want, but if it were up to me, Id leave everything just as it is.

After the birth of our first son, I weighed 18 stone. All the while, my husband showered me with compliments, making weight loss seem pointless. I slimmed down only when I wanted to.

Just last week we looked at old photosme with our tiny son, melted into the sofa. I asked, Why didnt you ever tell me to lose weight? I was massive!

He just said, You were my sweet, cuddly bun. Slim down if you want, but I love you as you are.

And five years ago, I had a nasty bout of psoriasis one summerpatches all over my body. We still went to Spain for holiday, but I refused to take off my cover-up on the beach. My husband asked, Whats wrong? and I realisedhe genuinely couldnt see anything wrong. To him I was still gorgeous; he noticed me, not my skin.

Im not here to advertise my husbandbut to talk about relationships. If a man demands you fit his standards of beauty, this isnt loveits about dominance.

Youre a gorgeous English appleif he only sees blemishes, he doesnt want an apple, just control.

Youre free to run after him, fearing loss. But what, exactly, do you risk losing? A tyrant, to whom youre just a gnome with a red mushroom hat?

Men want to be the alpha, sure. But true authority comes from our admiration and respectnot fear.

Your devotion should never be a given; it must be a choice. Choose a man you want to follownot because hes domineering, but because hes strong, reliable, affectionate. The kind whod take your hand and go with you to the ends of the earthand youd trust him, because you chose well.

And remember, the right to hold your hand isnt owed. Its something he must earn.