Tove Lo Turns Body Dysmorphia and an Eating Disorder Into A Danceable Anthem on “Grapefruit”

Perhaps if anyone was going to succeed at making such a hotbed, highly delicate issue danceable, it was bound to be Tove Lo. Having finally come clean about her own struggles with an eating disorder during her teenage years, Tove was able to put into words the intense, overwhelming feelings that were swirling inside her head every time she felt the urge to purge. The result is the fifth single from Dirt Femme, “Grapefruit.” A song that’s not only another stroke of musical genius in her canon, but also one of the few effective compositions to openly address an issue that has only gotten more pervasive despite claims and cries of body positivity through various ad campaigns that ultimately fall off in favor of a return to the skinny bitch prototype that most not-so-secretly continue to covet.

With a video directed by Lisette Donkersloot, the fraught narrative of “Grapefruit” opens on, what else, a lone grapefruit perched on a plate contained within the top shelf of the open refrigerator. Donkersloot then pans over to Tove Lo sitting on the floor in front of the stove (an image that reminds one faintly of her “Sweettalk My Heart” video). Seemingly in a trance with a fork in hand (in fact, this could double as a “your brain on drugs” commercial), she rakes it across the carpet while counting (calories, obviously) on her other fingers. Donkersloot then intercuts scenes of Tove Lo in what appears to be a “padded cell” but is ultimately the flesh prison her body dysmorphic mind is trapped in. In this way, the style unwittingly melds the aesthetic staples of Xtina’s “Beautiful” with *NSYNC’s “I Drive Myself Crazy.” Incidentally, Christina Aguilera seems to be on Tove Lo’s wavelength at this moment in time, with plans to release her own updated version of the “Beautiful” video—one that is even more tailored to how obsessed mass media has made people, particularly teen girls, with being “perfect.” In other words, having a “perfect” (read: waifish yet stacked) body.

Which is why, inside the padded cell of her mind, Tove Lo is visibly much fitter and trimmer than she appears to be in front of the stove, echoing the lyrics, “What I see is not me/What I see is not me.” In this regard, too, Tove has created a trans-pertinent anthem as well, for this is a track made for anyone who has ever felt like a prisoner inside their own body—one they do not feel they should be “married to,” as it does not align with who they actually are inside. And since society has reiterated over and over again that all we are is our outside, it’s a large reason for why we become fixated on getting the subjective interior to mirror it accurately. Unless, of course, you’re a horribly ugly being on the inside who manages to look plastically pretty.

Still in her kitchen wishing desperately that she “could change overnight,” Tove shudders both internally and externally as though mimicking the involuntary motions that occur during a bulimic purge (or an exorcism). She even brings up the woman who has become something of a patron saint for eating disorders, Lady Diana. Referencing her controversial Panorama interview for BBC during which she mentioned, “I had bulimia for a number of years. And that’s like a secret disease. You inflict it upon yourself because your self-esteem is at a low ebb, and you don’t think you’re worthy or valuable. You fill your stomach up four or five times a day—some do it more—and it gives you a feeling of comfort. It’s like having a pair of arms around you, but it’s temporary.”

Tove Lo would tend to agree as she belts out, “Sweet girl, you’re so disciplined/Now keep it down/I don’t like my measurements/Won’t make a sound/Diana, how she guards the clock/She’s in control/Now why is everyone in shock?/You let her go.” Soon, we see Tove in a dilapidated and bare living room, doing her best to copy the graceful movements of a ballerina as she sings, “The swans of ballet/Their skin and their bones, that’s not me/I’d die for my love though, break/Break ’til I wither away.” She then proceeds to literally beat herself up while counting, “One, two, grapefruit/How am I back here again?/Three, four, lose more/I know my mirrors are lyin’/Five, six, hate this/Take back the body I’m in.”

Inside the flesh prison she keeps bruising and scratching from the inside, it becomes clear she’s starting to see how much damage she’s doing to herself not just mentally, but physically as well. And it was only after being told that her voice was at risk if she kept going on in this way that she finally found the strength of will to truly embrace body positivity. After all, she’s realized that “you,” i.e., your “husk,” is all that you have in this life, ergo her conclusion, “I’m learnin’ every time I feel out of place/That you are all I’ve got, oh.” So treat that bitch (yourself) with respect.