My forgotten interview shows why we need more compassion for kids' body image

Let Me Explain columnist Emma Cam reveals how finding her teenage magazine interview about body image struggles has sparked crucial conversations about self-acceptance and compassion.

Childhood stories like The Ugly Duckling tell of a farmyard bird ostracized for its looks, only to grow into a beautiful swan — a reminder that what feels like a flaw now can become a strength. Picture: iStock.

I used to wish I had bigger boobs when I was a teen — truly ground breaking stuff — but I guarantee I never wished I was shorter.

I was today years old when I discovered my teenage self was out there giving interviews I don’t even remember and apparently hating her body.

Gurl, how much shorter could I be? I’m 5’4 on a good day. Often referred to as a pocket rocket or “Kylie Minogue height,” depending on how generous people are feeling.

So when a girlfriend sent me an old magazine article I have zero memory of being interviewed for, reading the first few paragraphs honestly broke my heart a little.

Okay, let me explain....

An interview surfaced from a magazine from back in the day, called Dolly. An Australian teen magazine launched in 1970, stopped print in 2016 (thankfully) but continues online, covering fashion, beauty, celebrity news, and social issues, including its famous ‘Dolly Doctor’ advice column.

"I’d cling to my older sister and wait for her to decide if someone was “safe” to talk to. " Picture: Emma Cam.

My forgotten interview shows why we need more compassion for kids' body image. Picture: Supplied.

Now I was teased a lot as a kid, nothing revolutionary there, but the part that stings is thinking: If this is how bad it felt at 17, back in a time when barely any of us had mobile phones… what on earth are kids going through now?

I was picked on for being thin and short.

My school uniforms didn’t fit, and all you could see was two tiny legs and a backpack bigger than my personality, waddling through the school gate.

I was painfully shy as a child. I refused to let anyone hold me except my mum. I’d hide behind her legs, or cling to my older sister and wait for her to decide if someone was “safe” to talk to.

I was often a solo-player kid — give me a paintbrush, a corner, and absolutely no social pressure and I was living my best life. But by high school, something flipped.

I’ve always had a fire in me when it comes to defending other people.

Like the time a boy ripped my sister’s Barbie dolls’ heads off in the playground after grabbing her bag by mistake — I marched over like a tiny lawyer preparing for trial.

Or when our exchange student from Nepal was being picked on at the pool and I stepped in, and the bullies stared at me like “there is no way that kid is your brother.”

Yet standing up for myself? I didn’t learn how to do that until very recently.

Supporting others? Easy. Advocating for me? Historically… not my strong suit.

I’ve always had this deep conviction about fairness… even as a kid watching To Kill a Mockingbird and asking my mum a million questions about why people were being unjust.

What the hell was I thinking.... if I could go back to this bod I would. And I bet you in ten years time, I’ll be saying the exact same thing about my body right now. (Miss Universe Finals at Castle Towers. Emma Cam in foreground with (l-r) Jessica Kahawaty and Renee Slansky in background.) Picture: Supplied.

I believe I learnt a lot from my mum on this topic.

“Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them, humanity cannot survive,” as the Dalai Lama wisely said.

Because honestly? Compassion feels harder and harder to come by these days.

I wasn’t just teased for my size, I was teased for my skin. I’ve had psoriasis since I was four-years-old. For anyone who doesn’t know, it’s an auto-immune condition — basically, a long-term skin issue where your skin grows too fast and becomes red, flaky, itchy and painful. The stigma around it can be brutal.

It was so bad at times I’d be pulled out of school. I didn’t understand why my weight and my skin made me an outcast.

At home, I’d cover the mirrors because I couldn’t handle seeing myself. Mum once took me shopping and a sales clerk asked us to leave because she assumed my skin was contagious.

"I’ve worked as an ambassador for Psoriasis Australia. And trust me — with stigma, misunderstanding and unrealistic beauty standards still everywhere — we need compassion now more than ever." Picture: Supplied.

In those fundamental years, the things you’re taught, or made to feel, about your body start to shape your sense of value.

So yes — reading that 17-year-old Emma in Dolly magazine hurt. And honestly? It feels a bit exploitative now. I was underage, my parents were never asked for permission (as far as any of us can recall), and clearly I buried the whole thing deep in the vault.

But now, at 38, I’m still dealing with body image… just in reverse.

Back then, I wanted curves. Now? I have curves — and a rounder face, and a waistline that has checked out permanently — and I’m wishing I was thinner again.

It’s like a never-ending treadmill of being dissatisfied with something.

Ageing joins the party too, the wrinkles creep in, your knees start sounding like bubble wrap. And all of this plays out against completely unrealistic beauty standards.

We have AI models advertising anti-wrinkle creams. Cosmetic brands are creating kids’ beauty ranges. Children are feeling pressure at ages where they should be thinking about lunchtime and which Pokemon card is the shiniest.

Worldwide, about 125 million people live with psoriasis, and 9 - 55 experience depression linked to the condition. Picture: iStock.

What really got me was reading teen-me saying: “People tell me girls are meant to have curves. So does that mean I’m not a girl?”

Reading that now makes me furious. Because future Emma wants to grab teenage Emma by the shoulders and say: “You are fine. You are enough. You are allowed to take up space exactly as you are.”

Also: babe, being thin and flat-chested is currently in, future you would absolutely love to have that “problem.”

We don’t know what people are going through. Some gain weight from medication, some lose weight from it. Some live with chronic health conditions that shape how their bodies look or behave. And that’s why compassion, real compassion, matters.

For ourselves. And for each other.

Side-by-side: unedited versus filtered — a look at the pressure social media puts on appearance. Picture: Emma Cam.

In some ways, I wish I never did that interview. But I’m also strangely grateful it resurfaced now, because clearly, I had something to say about it.

But it has got me thinking, conversations with our kids about body image matter more now than ever. Don’t shy away. Ask questions. Check in with your kids, your friends, your siblings, your partner.

Because people who struggle with this stuff often don’t know how to express it and sometimes, they won’t until someone invites them to.

Relearning how to speak kindly to yourself takes time. Sometimes years and I’m still working on it.

I’ve worked as an ambassador for Psoriasis Australia. And trust me — with stigma, misunderstanding and unrealistic beauty standards still everywhere — we need compassion now more than ever.

If we want kids to grow up kinder to themselves than we were, then the first step is showing them how it’s done. Bodies change. Beauty standards change. But compassion? That’s the one thing we can control and the one thing every single one of us needs more of.
If you could say one thing to your younger self, what would it be? - email me at [e-mail] or drop a comment below.

If you or someone you know is struggling with body image, call the Butterfly Foundation 1800 33 4673. For mental health support, Lifeline is available 24/7 on 13 11 14.

Originally published as My forgotten interview shows why we need more compassion for kids' body image