A little bit TOO serious...

If you read this, it's probably not the first time you typed my blog's address into your browser - you're also probably Polish remembering times when I was a seventeen-year-old with a blog slightly less popular than this one so the idea of reading a blog post in English here seems somehow stupid. I know it kind of is but here's the thing - I've been studying fashion journalism at LCF for two years now, somehow managed even to get the best grades at my course last year and as long as I spend half of my time speaking Polish even when in London thanks to my wonderful Polish boyfriend, my creative writing in my mother tongue is kind of rusty. Plus the "show-me-your-blog" thing I mentioned before. Plus some things just seem better in English.

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I love sharing with people. Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, even Endomondo - have those and I'm really cool with it. I'm not a privacy freak nor am I going to pretend that I don't like showing people slightly better, slightly prettier, slightly instagrammer version of my life. On top of that, I have a blog. Everything exposed. 

However, there is one thing that matters for me big times and I've never tried to touch it here - eating disorders. Eating disorders plus fashion in particular. C-L-I-C-H-E, right? Kind of. Yeah, right, we all know those models, eating an apple a day, blah blah blah boring stuff - but what about other people? Stylists, journalists? Well...

After watching "Devil Wears Prada" half of the universe thinks that everyone in fashion is obsessed with being skinny and kale chips. Bullshit. What's more, I have to disappoint you but we need to estabilish it once and for good "Devil Wears Prada" is not how fashion industry looks like. Runaway's office may be similar to that of American Vogue but have you ever been into an office of fashion magazine somewhere in London? If you were not - it's probably dusty, messy, tiny and not at all fabulous. I'm sorry.

Getting back to the main thing - eating. Well - I've never seen more people eating crap anywhere (and by that I don't mean sugary granola bars or, I don't know, wraps: I mean the real worst - canned beans with white bread, chips, crisps, chocolate, chocolate and even more chocolate) than I see in LCF's canteen every school day. People laugh at me, you know, for eating crispbread and yoghurts from time to time and applause me when I bring "normal" lunch to school. One of my closest friends ate a big box of flapjacks in front of me once and another one is obsessed with food (working freelance for Time Out now, I'm so proud!). I've never heard "x's too fat" coming from someone's mouth but I did hear couple of tooskinnys. A couple. Because even though everyone loves gossip and bitching about fellow coursemates their bodies are their own business. And this is LCF, one of the best fashion schools in the world, people.

And yet two months ago when my doctor, concerned and tried to figure out whether I'm anorexic or not asked me why did I decide to start dieting in the first place I didn't even think about it and said "ohhh you know fashion school, everyone's so skinny...". I played on a stereotype and you know what? It worked. She just nodded. 

I am not and have never been anorexic though in the past year and a half I lost a lot of weight, totally destroyed my digestive system, developed an unhealthy relationship with food and got addicted to exercising. I had days of eating 1200 calories and then burning 700 doing purely youtube workouts. I fainted at work,TWICE, and, yeah, I finally managed to fit into xs everything. And then I woke up. And then, after waking up I realised that it won't be that easy so I went to my doctor to find out that I need to gain at least some weight. After endless bloodtests and a month of eating more than I thought I was supposed to I came into the doctor's office only to find out I lost another two kilos. It's a lot harder to get out of it than get into it really. I eat super-healthy now, my workouts are more moderate and I really have days of sugary overload now but that episode of my life will be with me forver.

Why did I lie to the doctor? Why did I share something so private with you? Fashion + eating, once again. 

I've been an editorial team member for a really good magazine (as in "content-good" not "world-renowned-good" though we have an impressive list of contributors) for some time now - biscuits are our office staple, lunches are made by our lovely boss and every meal must end with bread and cheese overload. Every fashion event I go to has its catering and, WELL, everyone eats. A lot. Why did I spend couple of sad months of my life eating only weight watchers and tesco light choices meals for lunch then? Blogging. 

After moving to London I gained some weight - British food, moving in with someone for the first time, moving to another country, working crazy hours in a retail giant's chain store and not having days off at all made me go from one size to the other. Still considered pretty ok. Maybe more average than small. And then it started - comments about my weight. I stopped eating sweets. I lost couple of pounds. Got back to S. Comments were still there - one meaner than the other. I pretended not to care but, come on, I cared - I was a twenty-year-old girl, how couldn't I? After some time I stopped publishing them and they stopped to appear or maybe my weight started to be all right and so fashion for someone? I don't know. But why am i writing about it right now pretending to be a voice of my generation or something?

Because today, when making some pancakes for breakfast it just stroke me:

if the up and coming fashion journalists, creme de la creme of fashion journalism undergraduates don't really care if you are 10 or 6 why should people spending their time looking at fashion blogs do? Will that make them more fashion or will that make the people the bodies their commenting on more fashion? I don't get it. I'm sorry. Saying hi to you while eating my grilled cheese sandwich and sorry for getting too serious. Sometimes you have to.