Aunty Reagan didn’t waste any time bringing up modelling at the dinner table tonight.

“So, Pippa what size are you? Because I can’t have anyone bigger than an 8 modelling my clothes,” she said abruptly.

“I’m a size 10 but what’s it matter?”

“Models must be skinny and beautiful. Everyone wishes to look just like them so your size matters, a lot.”

“So you agree with the stereotypes and that everyone should be this skinny and wear that size clothes or they just aren’t good enough?”

“Yep, it’s what everyone expects. No one wants to see a larger built model showing off clothes that they should never wear.”

“That’s ridiculous. Just because you’re slightly on the large side shouldn’t mean you have to wear ugly clothes and be discriminated against for wanting to do something you love.”

“That’s sweet of you, Pippa but what is your point?”

“My point is this: I won’t model for you unless you let me control the way my body looks, which means no diets, I’ll dress how I want to, exercise when I want to and be the model I want to be.”

“Well you drive a hard bargain. You realise what you are subjecting yourself to?”

“Yeah, I’m subjecting myself to the attention of a lot of people. But unlike some models I’ll actually look healthy and alive. I will be telling people that you can’t let people’s opinions stop you from doing what you want,” the last words used intentionally, telling her that I don’t give up that easily.

“Okay, if you really want to do that then you have my permission I’m sure I’ll be able to find you some amazing outfits for you to show. But I’ll warn you now that things may get ugly.”

“And I’ll tell you now that showing people you are brave enough to break through the barrier of modelling expectations could be something that makes you more popular.”

The End

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