Yes, I am quite sure you have heard much of this before. How all those magazine pictures of pallid, panda-eyed models with coat-hanger shoulders are sapping the confidence of girls who can never hope to resemble Jodie Kidd or Kate Moss. How the struggle to shrink -- and stay shrunk -- is producing a generation of agonized and underweight underachievers.

But the level of hysteria here has reached a new high -- or low, depending on your orientation to the matter. The latest attack on extreme thinness comes from the British Medical Association (BMA), not some preachy pressure group. With typical precision, the BMA has announced that models and actresses in the late '90s carried just 10 to 15 percent body fat, while the average for healthy women was 23 to 26 percent. And yes, constant exposure to "unachievable" images can trigger eating disorders. Conclusion: "More realistic body shapes need to be shown on TV and in fashion magazines."

Tired as these breakthroughs might seem, they appear as fresh policy fodder to the government, which has decided to take a strong stand. Downing Street has summoned fashion industry leaders -- teen mag editors, fashion model bookers and the like, as well as experts on anorexia -- to a Body Image Summit later this month. Heading the agenda will be the link between "inappropriate body images" and women's self-esteem. As many as 40 panelists are expected, including eating disorder expert and onetime Princess Di confidante Susie Orbach, as well as unnamed representatives of the (bring your cameras!) Storm model agency.

Quite naturally, the government's minister for women, Tessa Jowell, isn't talking about anything so crude as blame; but we all know who'll be sitting on the sunny side of the table.

And this won't be just a chance to brainstorm. Oh no, no. The government is talking about "action." It has identified a real menace and it means business. Who knows, the next Labour election manifesto could contain a pledge -- this is a government that loves targets -- to raise women's self-esteem by 50 percent over the next five years. Quite possibly the summit will mark the start of a whole new era of good sense in which Barbie dolls have hips, men pull their weight in the kitchen and world peace is restored.

Why the cynicism? As a father of preteen daughters, maybe I should be grateful. After all, something is badly wrong when 57 percent of the nation's 12- to 15-year-olds put "appearance" at the top of their worry list. Maybe I should support any serious attempt to correct the notion that only the truly svelte deserve happiness and success.

But a government-sponsored "summit"? First there's the question of motive. Any politician knows that fashion mavens make an easy target. We may buy the magazines but we distrust the folks behind them. These are the people who have grown rich by trading on our vanity and insecurity, who have persuaded my children to waste their (my) cash on tricolor sneakers. Now we learn that they are conspiring to ruin our health and well-being.

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