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Persuasive Coursework Essay

The Size Zero craze refuses to surrender. The media refuses to give up on the figures of malnutrition crawling down the catwalk, while readers continue to be secretly amazed by these new species of human – are they human? I’m not sure either.

But, fear not my friends; the bombshells are clawing their way through the skeletons to unveil their curves on beaches, and billboards, and magazine covers, and the catwalk, and, well everywhere. Yet, I still can’t help but feel shit about myself. I know when I say this many of you will agree, so I’m going to come out and say it, Kim Kardashian, Beyonce, Christina Hendricks and all you other bootylicious sugar tarts, I hate you.

Well not hate, I’m sure they’re perfectly lovely people, which makes it harder for me to hate them. I can’t help but cherish the time when a bag of bones would appear in the newspaper, and my boyfriend would be repulsed. It made my life a lot easier knowing that my significant other preferred my size 10 (ok so I’m borderline 12, but I’m still working off the mince pies) to what can be only described as a ‘thing’. But now, with Kim Kardashian racking up tabloids, I can’t help but be extremely jealous that my boyfriend and probably every other male in the modern world, stop on the gossip pages to admire her absolutely breathtaking body, even I stared for a while when finding the picture for this article. He does try to hide the fact that he’s smitten with her by claiming that he’s interested in ‘what went wrong this Kris Humphreys and her’. It does satisfy me just a little bit however to know that despite her amazing assets, model worthy face and millions in the bank, that she too can’t make a marriage work.

The fashion industry, in all their support for a confident woman, has a different take on this issue. Working here at the Mail, I don’t get front row seats next to Anna Wintour or Olivia Palermo. In fact, I don’t get an invite full stop. But I still enjoy flicking through the pages of the top fashion magazines and style blogs to find out the backstage gossip and see who has been wearing what. When each Fashion Week comes around, there’s always a bit of controversy to kick it all off – usually surrounding the weight of the clothes horses who will be parading down the runway. And Chanel boss Karl Lagerfeld kicked off proceedings with some rather bitchy comments. Just a week before Adele picked up six Grammys, the white-haired, leathery- skinned fashion mogul took a swipe at the singer, calling her “too fat”. The world was outraged and, in her typical no-nonsense style, she replied with a blunt comeback, saying she was happy with the way she looked.

So, why is it, in the year 2012 after massive leaps in technology, earth shattering events and promising ourselves that we would learn from our past, that we even give a flying f***?

We were all astonished by the iPad, we were all shaken to the core during the 9/11 attacks and we all promised to ourselves and the rest of civilisation, that we would work towards never having a world war again. So, why didn’t the fashion industry learn from its mistakes when 22- year-old Luisel Ramos died DURING, yep you read right, Uruguay Fashion Week after starving herself to heart failure. Or when just 6 months after, her 18-year-old sister, Eliana Ramos, died under the exact same circumstances.

If this happened during a civil war, or behind the gates of a concentration camp, those responsible would be prosecuted in an international war crimes tribunal. What makes the fashion industry so high and mighty that they have the right, the cheek, and the sheer brutality to dictate to every woman on the planet what is beautiful?

I’m not one to judge an individuals circumstance when it comes to their body shape and their mental health, but WHY AREN’T YOU PEOPLE LISTENING? It’s all very good a well aspiring to have a figure like our very own Kate and Naomi, but hells bells girls, be realistic. I’m pretty sure, no I’m positive, that every reader that this article falls into the hands of, will value their life over being mistaken for a tree.

Kate Moss was famously criticised in the 90s for her waif figure, and we were convinced that she achieved it via anorexic tips and tricks. But here we are, 17 years later, and dear old Kate is still the exact same shape, even after giving birth, proving that her metabolism is faster than most people’s heart rates. So why aren’t you people listening?

Beyonce. Amazing. Simple. I’m a securely straight when it comes to my sexuality, but even I fancy her. She practically invented the word ‘bootylicious’ and she’s constantly shaking her derriere singing about how girls, we run this motha world. Queen B is 1000 times as successful as any of the dolls barely making it down the runway; she is the epitome of ultimate beauty and womanhood (and yes I’m practically shaking with jealously). If you found any individual on the street, handed them a picture of Beyonce and a picture of any old beanpole, then asked them who 1) they would rather date 2) who was more successful and 3) who had a longer life expectancy, Beyonce would come out top 100 to 0. So why aren’t you listening?

When guys see a hot mama, they say ‘look at that ass’, ok that sounded wrong but you get my flow. They do not say, under any circumstances, ‘wow look at that thigh bone’. It could be any simpler. So why aren’t you listening?

Fashion industry, listen up. I’m a main source of income for you all. I buy every magazine you put out there; every iPhone app you pawn, every season brochure you tempt me with, and I always respond to your crappy advertisement email you send me. And we haven’t even begun on my collection of Stella McCarthy and Chanel dresses. So please, please, PLEASE, listen to my plea. I’m speaking on behalf of every un-brain washed woman in the world, APPEAL TO OUR BODY SHAPE, and stop making me feel guilty when I go for my weekly Big Mac. In return, I promise not to kill my boyfriend in a jealous rage, I will stop writing theses very unfunny articles, and I’ll invest in all the other crap you throw my way.

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