I can't help being skinny. I am happy and healthy.
At twenty, Joey Turner — once watched growing up on British reality television — finds himself navigating the strange territory where public memory collides with private selfhood. Having left The Only Way Is Essex, he now lives as a fashion student in London, yet strangers online still feel entitled to diagnose his body. His response is less a defence than a question: whether the compassion society claims to extend to all bodies is, in practice, offered only to certain ones.
- Fan concern erupted online after Turner posted photos showing a noticeably slimmer frame than viewers remembered from his teenage years on screen.
- Turner pushed back firmly, refusing to apologise for his body and insisting his lean build, fast metabolism, and modest diet are simply who he is — not symptoms of illness.
- He challenged what he sees as a double standard: body positivity loudly preached, but quietly withheld from those whose thinness makes others uncomfortable.
- Medical context complicates his confidence — at 7.5 stone and five foot eleven, his BMI falls below the threshold where health professionals begin to flag nutritional and immunity risks.
- Turner's deeper argument is about autonomy: having left television at twenty, he wants to exist without his appearance being treated as public property.
Joey Turner was twenty years old when the comments began arriving. Photos he posted on Instagram showed him noticeably slimmer than viewers remembered from his time on The Only Way Is Essex, and people who had watched him grow up on screen began to worry publicly — some suggesting he might be struggling with an eating disorder. Turner chose to address the speculation head-on.
He was unapologetic. At five foot eleven and seven and a half stone, he had always carried a long, lean frame, and he attributed his appearance to natural development and a fast metabolism rather than anything troubling. His diet — cereal, salad, sushi, vodka with water on a night out — was modest by choice, he insisted, not by compulsion. "I am not really a foodie," he said. "I just don't care to participate in gluttony." The distinction mattered to him deeply.
His family understood his body and his history. The concern, as he saw it, was arriving from strangers who had watched him on television and felt entitled to assess his health from a distance. He also pointed out that he had joined the show at seventeen, before his body had finished developing — much of what people read as dramatic weight loss was, he believed, simply the ordinary shift from adolescence into adulthood.
What troubled him most was the inconsistency he perceived in how society applies its stated values. Body positivity, he argued, seemed to operate selectively — extended warmly in some directions, withheld in others. Now a fashion student in London, free from the obligations of being on air, he had no intention of censoring himself. "I am happy, healthy and have supportive people around me," he said — and in his view, that should have been sufficient.
Joey Turner was twenty years old when the comments started arriving. The former cast member of the British reality show The Only Way Is Essex had posted photos on Instagram that showed him noticeably slimmer than viewers remembered, and people who had watched him grow up on television began to worry aloud. Some suggested he might be struggling with an eating disorder. Turner decided to address the speculation directly.
In an interview, he was blunt about what he saw as an unfair intrusion. He stood by his body as it was, refusing to treat his thinness as something requiring explanation or apology. "I can't help that I am skinny," he said. "I am not going to apologise to anyone." At five foot eleven, he had always carried a long, lean frame. He weighed seven and a half stone, though he said he rarely stepped on a scale and didn't think much about the number itself.
Turner described his eating habits as modest but deliberate rather than restrictive. On a typical day he might have a bowl of cereal for breakfast, a salad at lunch, sushi for dinner. When he went out socially, he drank vodka with water. He didn't consider himself a foodie, and he was careful with his language when explaining this. "I am not really a foodie, that's not me being anorexic," he said. "I just don't care to participate in gluttony." The distinction mattered to him—the difference between choosing simplicity and being unable to eat.
His family knew his habits and his metabolism. His mother, he said, would comment that he looked thin, but she wasn't alarmed. She understood his medical history, the way his body worked, his temperament. Friends were aware too. The concern, as Turner saw it, was coming from strangers on the internet who had watched him on television and felt entitled to assess his health.
He had joined The Only Way Is Essex at seventeen, before his body had finished developing. By the time he left the show in May of that year, he was twenty. People change between those ages—their faces sharpen, their frames settle into their adult shape. Turner believed much of what people were interpreting as dramatic weight loss was simply the ordinary transformation of late adolescence into early adulthood. He was now a student studying fashion design in London, living a life that had nothing to do with television.
What bothered him more than the concern itself was what he saw as hypocrisy. Society, he argued, had embraced the language of body positivity, but that embrace seemed selective. "We live in a generation where everyone is preaching about body positivity, but does that only apply to bigger people?" he asked. The double standard felt real to him—acceptance extended conditionally, withdrawn when a body didn't fit the approved narrative of what needed protecting.
He was also newly free from the constraints of being a public figure on a television show. When he had been on air, he had carried responsibility for the show's reputation. Now he didn't. He was a twenty-year-old student who wanted to post what he wanted to post, to live without constant commentary on his appearance. He had no intention of censoring himself or changing how he presented his body online. "I am happy, healthy and have supportive people around me," he said. That, he believed, should have been enough.
Citações Notáveis
I can't help that I am skinny. I am not going to apologise to anyone.— Joey Turner
We live in a generation where everyone is preaching about body positivity, but does that only apply to bigger people?— Joey Turner
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
When you say you don't weigh yourself, is that a deliberate choice or just indifference?
Both, really. I genuinely don't think about it. The number doesn't tell me anything useful about how I feel or function.
But you mentioned your weight—seven and a half stone—in the interview. Why give that number if you don't care about it?
Because people were asking. I wanted to be transparent. But the number itself isn't something I'm tracking or worried about.
You describe your diet as simple. Do you ever feel pressure to eat more, socially or otherwise?
My mum mentions it sometimes, but she's not worried. The pressure comes from strangers online, not from people who actually know me.
You brought up body positivity and double standards. Do you think people would have reacted the same way if you'd gained weight instead?
I don't think so. There's a narrative about what bodies need protection, and thin bodies don't fit it. But health isn't one-size-fits-all.
What changed between being on Towie and now that made you willing to speak about this publicly?
I'm not on television anymore. I don't owe anyone an explanation, but I also don't have to hide. I can just be honest.