I've lost count of how many times I've been told to lose weight as a model. In the end, I quit | Zoe Huxford

The life of a model - walking in fashion shows for Prada and Givenchy, shooting for Vogue - can seem, from the outside, like a dream come true.

I was scouted and signed to a modeling agency when I was 16. It was an exhilarating, but still confusing experience - I had no idea a trip to Kent's Bluewater Shopping Center could be life changing. Then, the week before I was due to enter Year 16 and start my A-levels, my agent asked me if I would be modeling at London Fashion Week. They said I wouldn't be in school for a week, so of course I said yes. This week turned into two, which turned into five when I was whisked away to Milan and Paris to walk in Jil Sander, Balenciaga and Louis Vuitton.

I was extremely lucky that my career started like this, and I was even luckier that it continued. After that first week on the job, I continued to shoot magazine editorials, walk the catwalks, and travel fairly regularly over the next four years. For a 17 year old I was also making decent money - even after learning that when my agent said they were taking me to lunch it would later be deducted from my salary. To observers, I was something of a star, which wasn't entirely unwarranted given that publications such as Harper's Bazaar, British Vogue and, oddly, the Sun called me a "face to watch". p>

Of course, no one will be surprised that the modeling industry is, by design, exploitative. It capitalizes on women (although this also afflicts male role models) who are often foreign (sometimes non-English speaking) and, like me, very young. I was 16 when I was first told to lose weight, and throughout my four years as a model, this "advice" was never too far from the tip of my tongue. my agent.

It wasn't just the pressure – to which I succumbed – to force my body to become a weight it wasn't designed for that warned me of a predestined disaster. I was 17 when I went out to dinner with a friend, who was also a casting director - and in my thirties. He texted me saying he needed to finish some work and invited me to his house. I went there, made polite conversation, and then he kissed me. I froze. I had to be friendly - there is an unfair but nevertheless direct correlation between success and being liked - but, equally, I had been raped (even if I hadn't had the courage to use that word at the time). I texted another model friend immediately afterwards, to which she replied, “Man, you look young and sexy. it sucks, but it had to happen.

At 20, it felt like everything - my career, my social life, my relationships - was imploding. Unhappy and overweight in terms of fashion, I had to make a decision. I could do what my agent told me and go to a model weight loss camp, or quit. I chose the latter. I told my agent that I was planning on going to college, but since I had to wait until September for the school year to start, I wanted to travel first. My agent didn't care because I wasn't making much money for them. I was just plain old fashioned.

Oh spare me, you might think - yet another thin, white, conventionally attractive young woman talking about the burden of being attractive. I get it, it's infuriating and infuriating to be told how heavy the cross of physical beauty is to bear. To be clear: I am aware of the privileges of being attractive. I am also aware that commodifying and profiting from my own body and beauty via the fashion industry does not absolve me of my own complicity in allowing such an industry to continue. But it's possible to capitalize on and fall victim to the perils of beauty. Is there a way to reconcile the two? Maybe. I haven't found an answer to this yet. If so, send it to me.

I'm too far off these days to know how much the industry has really changed; from what I see in magazines and catwalks, it seems the cast is more inclusive and diverse. But I'm not sure to what extent these are just symbolic acts. I'm skeptical that these diversity optics actually translate into meaningful shifts in power dynamics behind the scenes. Nepotism and a strong following on social media seem to be more in vogue these days, so I wonder if brand exposure is considered more valuable than diversity.

There is strength in knowing when to quit. Looking back, quitting modeling was the best decision I could have made. Last year, I completed my MA in English Literature at University College London and have since become a journalist. It's sad how many people try to emulate role models, many of whom are d...