Between 1959 and 1978, the contestants in the Miss America beauty pageant became progressively thinner. On average they shrank 0.13kg every year. This data, reported in the Journal of the American Medical Association, also suggests that by the 1980s, the average Miss America contestant had a body mass index (BMI) of just 17. To put that in context, a BMI of less than 18.5 is considered clinically underweight and, according to the American Psychiatric Association, a BMI of less than 17.5 is part of the criteria for diagnosing anorexia nervosa.
But it wasn’t just the beauty queens who were getting smaller, a similar shrinkage was also observed in the dimensions of magazine models – even Disney’s wholesome heroines shrank. Ironically, as beauty queens and magazine divas all got thinner, the average female in the general population, in the US at least, got progressively fatter.
This mismatch between the media-driven ideal, and the fast-food fuelled reality, has resulted in an epidemic of body image dissatisfaction.
A survey undertaken by Psychology Today, the popular magazine, asked the provocative question: “Would you sacrifice more than five years of life to be your ideal weight? A total of 3,452 women or 15 per cent of the survey sample answered yes.
This virulent body image dissatisfaction and drive for thinness has translated into a multibillion dollar global diet industry, and has helped establish liposuction as one of the world’s most popular forms of cosmetic surgery.
Increasingly, this drive for thinness is also true in the Gulf..
Take a trip to a supermarket and the magazine racks will be full of Arabic and English-language publications adorned with skinny starlets. Elsewhere in the same stores, you will find a wide range of “miracle” weight-loss products promising all sorts of incredible results.
Perhaps a subtler indicator of the new-found regional appetite for thinness is Fulla, the Gulf’s best-selling fashion doll.
According to her manufacturers, Fulla was developed to reflect Muslim and Middle Eastern values. She has an abaya, hijab and prayer carpet, she even has a set of tasbih (prayer beads). Such accessories are not available to Barbie, her North American counterpart. However, despite the traditional trimmings, Fulla has a very thin figure that would be unobtainable to most. Fulla, in fact, is even thinner and more waiflike than Barbie.
In line with global trends in cosmetic surgery, the Gulf has also witnessed a surge in demand.
In Saudi Arabia, Dr Mamdooh Ashy, a consultant plastic surgeon at a Jeddah-based private clinic, reported that women make up 70 per cent of the Kingdom’s rapidly growing market, with liposuction presently the number one treatment.
He also describes how a lot of Saudi women use the common community-based fund-raising system known as Jamiah to pay for such treatments. Similarly, one Qatari clinic boasts a two-year waiting list for treatments. And once again, liposuction tops the list of desired procedures.
The holy month of Ramadan has nothing to do with weight-loss fads or the enhancement of the physical form – at least it shouldn’t have. However, in our social climate, where the drive for thinness has become a lifetime obsession for many, it is easy to see how Ramadan could be misappropriated as a form of extreme weight-loss programme.
This idea, of what I call, “Ramadanorexia”, is reflected in the writings of a young Emirati woman who received treatment for anorexia nervosa in the UK. This brave young woman eloquently describes her deadly dieting and her descent into full-blown illness during Ramadan 10 years ago.
“I abused the good intentions behind the holy month and will forever be ashamed,” she said. “It was an anorexic’s dream come true. I could go all day without eating a thing, have my dose of exercise by horse riding, and then at iftar eat only the little set of ‘safe’ foods I had prescribed for myself: a green apple, a 90 calorie cereal bar and a glass of orange juice.”
Just like vegetarianism, detoxification and keep-fit classes, Ramadan too can be misappropriated. Every year at this time, we hear many messages warning us against the dangers of over indulgence at the iftar table. However, it’s also worth considering the opposite extreme too.
Justin Thomas is an associate professor of psychology at Zayed University and author of Psychological Well-Being in the Gulf States