Figure fears at primary school

It came out of the blue one teatime. "Do you think I should go on a diet?" asked my daughter Molly. "To get rid of my fat tummy?" Now, Molly is seven. She's not one of nature's string beans, but she is far from fat. Our nanny took it in her stride. "There's nothing wrong with your tummy. Whatever made you think about it like that?" she asked calmly. "Because," said Molly, "Jodie's mum says she's got a fat tummy, and she's going to have to go on a diet to get rid of it."

I'm glad I wasn't there. I would have overreacted and demanded to know whether it was Jodie or her mum who was dieting, and rung them up and ranted about the long-term effect of such stupid, idle talk on a young girl's psyche.

My antennae have been twitching for talk of diets ever since Molly went to primary school, so when Manda, the nanny, reported their little chat, I yelped. The age that girls begin fretting about their bodies is falling all the time, and a new study by psychologists at Surrey and Melbourne universities has found that girls as young as seven think they're too fat to be perfect, and risk developing eating disorders as a result.

Sadly, this is hardly news to London mothers: body worries seep organically, insidiously, into the classroom, not helped by the fact that Molly and her pals are all mad about pop princesses such as Britney, Kylie, Geri and members of S-Club 7, who all flaunt their lovely flat tummies non-stop. Many of them also have older sisters who are well versed in the "does-my-bum-look-biginthis?"culture.

At the age of seven, it seems to be tummies in particular that girls worry about. Molly's is fabulous; it still curves out a bit, like a toddler's. It's noticeable, though, that when they're wearing their ballet leotards, most of her friends' tummies are utterly flat, and Molly has started complaining that certain clothes make her look "fat". Of course, all of us at home tell her she's not. We shrug off the subject of big tummies - it's just all her insides stacked up, it'll flatten out as she grows, it's not a problem. We also make strenuous efforts never to mention the words diet, calories or fat in the hearing of Molly and her younger sister, Beth. We sit down and eat meals with the children and if we don't eat puddings or have seconds, it's because we're full. We never say "I shouldn't," or "I oughtn't" where food is concerned.

I am so neurotic about all this because I know all too well where it leads. I was a fat child myself, a little butterball who could never fit into jeans. Before I went to boarding school, aged 10, I was 4ft 10in and weighed just over eight stone. My mother took me to the doctor, who put me on a diet - a low-carbohydrate diet, which was all the rage back then. I lost a stone over the summer - and a further 6lb through sheer fright at arriving at school. I was never teased or bullied for being a porker - I no longer was - but it gave me hang-ups about eating which took 20 years to unravel.

I dieted through term-times with increasing viciousness and binged during holidays. By the sixth form, I still weighed just over eight stone, though I was nearly a foot taller. I was also warned by the sharp-eyed netball mistress that if I got any thinner I'd be joining the anorexic girls who boarded at the mental hospital across the road during term. I can still remember the gnawing hunger, and how vital it was to feel it, and I'll do my damnedest to prevent Molly going through the same process.

It's going to be an uphill struggle. Thin equals successful, happy, desirable - it has done for years. Even the "real" children modelling swimwear in the latest Boden catalogue are actively skinny. Only babies, it seems, are allowed to be chubby these days. No one remarks if children are looking "a bit thin" any more; they only comment if they're fat.

While obesity among children is rising at a scandalous rate, it's not doing so among the middle classes - just look at those girls with the rake-thin, designer-clad mothers who attend private schools in central London. A friend from south of the river commented on this at Molly's birthday party. All the Kensington girls, he pointed out, were miles thinner than the Clapham girls. It gave me a jolt when I saw he was right.

Many mothers, I'm gradually realising, worry about having overweight children at a preposterously early age. My best friend won't let her four daughters, all under 10, have puddings - it's fruit and yoghurt only - for fear they will end up with backsides as ample as their father's. One eight-year-old girl I know isn't allowed butter - even though her brothers are.

You won't catch me doing that. Although I can't prevent pictures of pop princesses or talk in the school yard affecting how Molly sees herself, I can keep telling her how gorgeous she is. And I will.