Coming Home to My Body, from Inside the Modelling Industry
In this blog, Amelia shares how working in the modelling industry impacted her body image and eating disorder recovery journey.
Hi, I’m Amelia. I’m 30 years old and have worked as a model for over 13 years. I also act, teach yoga and meditation, and offer 1:1 Embodiment Coaching to help people feel more at home in their bodies. The eating disorders I’ve experienced have been anorexia, orthorexia and binge–starvation cycles.
While modelling has taken me on incredible adventures and introduced me to many wonderful people, it has also provoked anxiety, fear and loneliness, and challenged me to find a deeper sense of worth beyond my external appearance.
I hope reading this offers insight into lived experience of eating disorders, tools for self-care, ways to support someone you love, and how we can all help create a culture that supports healthier relationships with our bodies.
Growing Up
My eating disorders arose during times in my life when everything around me felt unstable, and at the time, gave me a sense of control when the rest of life felt chaotic.
Around nine years old, I remember hearing comments about my weight — from my mum and other loved ones. None of it was malicious, but it was the first time I felt self-conscious about my body and realised other people had opinions about how I looked. Around that time, my family had moved back to Australia after three years in Belgium. I had to start another new school, re-adjust to a different culture and make new friends again.
When I reached puberty, I started reading teen magazines and idolising actresses and models, unconsciously absorbing their beauty ideals. It planted a seed in my adolescent mind — a desire to be extremely thin and alter my lifestyle to achieve it. Around this time, my best friend nearly lost her life to anorexia.
A few years later, I developed orthorexia — an extreme obsession with health and fitness. My parents were separating, we were moving homes, final school exams were approaching, and I had a breakout of psoriasis across my body. I was also regularly using alcohol and recreational drugs, as a way to cope during this difficult time, but this only added to the cycles of emotional dysregulation — high highs and low lows.
At 17, at the height of my orthorexia, I was praised for how “good” I looked. Then a top Sydney modelling agency signed me, which strengthened the growing inner voice that linked my value to my weight and appearance.
Inside the Industry
After five years of full-time modelling, my career was thriving — I was travelling between Sydney, Tokyo, London and Los Angeles for work. But internally, I was struggling. My anxiety was high, my period had stopped, and I was in physical discomfort most days. At work, people told me how amazing I looked, then at home, family and friends would express concern. The contrast was confusing.
One of my big wake-up calls came when a GP told me that if I didn’t put on weight, I was at risk of infertility and early osteoporosis. It was the first time I truly considered that my health might matter more than fitting into an industry standard.
Modelling demands living with a high level of uncertainty about your daily schedule, location, and income. It makes for a great adventure but can also make it difficult to maintain a stable sense of self and worth.
The Healing Years
Recovery was slow and non-linear. I went through bingeing and restricting cycles, feeling insecure in my changing body. Having to show up for photoshoots for work added another layer of pressure to the process. However, having “safe people” I could be completely honest with became my lifeline.
My mum would gently point out when my eating disorder self-talk got louder, helping me recognise triggers and patterns — building this awareness was the first step toward change.
Eventually, I realised modelling itself was affecting my recovery. I was offered new UK and European contracts, but only if I lost weight. That was the first time I said no. I’d worked hard to get healthier and couldn’t go backwards. I knew my wellbeing wasn’t being valued in those environments. Later, I found new work at a healthy weight, but there was a long transition when I didn’t know if my career would continue.
Coming Back to My Body
What helped most in recovery was developing a new relationship with my body — one based on listening, care and appreciation. When I’m stressed, it’s harder to hear what my body needs, so learning to regulate my nervous system has been central to healing. Practices like yoga, breathwork and meditation help me reconnect to sensation and emotion — to actually feel again.
Now, I exercise for strength and joy, not appearance. I eat for nourishment and vitality, not control. And I focus on what it feels like to be in my body, rather than how it looks.
Many attempts at talk therapy left me feeling like there was something wrong with me. Then, at an Embodied Expression workshop, I released a deep well of rage I hadn’t realised I was carrying. When I finally expressed it, memories surfaced of times I hadn’t spoken up or felt powerless. Underneath the anger was sadness — but also relief. I left feeling more alive and grounded than I had in years. That experience reached something that talk therapy hadn’t. Today, I continue to use healing modalities like Embodiment, Psych-K, Acupuncture and EMDR to get to the energetic root of issues and change subconscious patterns when I want to make external changes in my life.
Community and Culture
Having safe people, places and daily rhythms has been crucial. I know who I can be honest with, and which spaces leave me disconnected or comparing myself to others. Setting boundaries is also an ongoing practice of self-care.
I don’t think eating disorders happen in isolation. They grow inside environments that reward perfection, productivity and external validation — things that disconnect us from our bodies.
Recovery for me has meant unlearning those values and building a life that’s gentler and more honest.
Coming Home
Coming home to my body is an ongoing process — hundreds of small decisions to listen when it would be easier to ignore. Re-learning how to rest, to eat, to move, and when to say no.
Sometimes I still lose touch with myself. But the difference now is that I notice sooner, and I have tools to come back faster. I prioritise more space for rest, creativity and connection.
Our bodies are the foundation for how we think, feel and experience the world. They are the only relationship we have for our entire life — so it’s worth making it a kind and supportive one. It’s something we can keep learning together.
Get Support
No matter how the eating disorder developed, recovery is possible, and Butterfly is here to help.
For confidential and free counselling, call the Butterfly National Helpline on 1800 ED HOPE (1800 33 4673) or chat online or email, 7 days a week, 8am-midnight (AEDT).
Find an eating disorder professional – search Butterfly’s National Referral Database to find eating disorder practitioners closest to you.
