There's a famous study which looked at teenage girls in Fiji after television was introduced to the island for the first time in 1995. After three years with TV, the girls who watched it the most were 50% more likely to describe themselves as "too fat"; 29% scored highly on a test of eating-disorder risk. One girl said of the western women she watched on Beverly Hills 90210: "In order to be like them, I have to work on myself, exercising, and my eating habits should change."

It's helpful for fashion buyers (the audience at catwalk shows) to see clothes on a shape that is as close to a clothes hanger as possible – hence the tall, bony models whose breasts will not bother the line of a shirt. But since catwalk imagery has gone mainstream, these model shapes have drifted into the public subconscious.

One celebrity whose body is frequently scrutinised (and scorned) by the tabloid media is The Only Way is Essex's reality star Lauren Goodger. "Never heard of Spanx, Lauren? Miss Goodger shows off muffin top in very unflattering dress," read one Mail Online headline. There are 546. "Oops, maybe you should've tried the next size up. Lauren Goodger's tiny dress feels the strain." "Haven't you learned your lesson? Lauren Goodger steps out in ANOTHER pair of unflattering leggings." Rather than the corrosive dripping-tap effect of reading these once a day over the last two years, read together these 546 headlines feel like quiet waterboarding.

She introduces me to the idea of "fat talk", everyday conversation that reinforces the "thin ideal" and contributes to our dissatisfaction. Like: "You look great – have you lost weight?" Or, on being offered a bun: "Ooh, I really shouldn't." "After three minutes of fat talk," says Diedrichs, "there's evidence that our body dissatisfaction increases significantly." Naming this – fat talk – makes much sense to me.