Recently, social media has become a vehicle for spreading ideas about health and wellness. This isn’t always a good thing (see: The vast amount of medical misinformation circulating online). But occasionally, it’s gamechanging in the right way.
Take, for example, the body positivity movement. Without the conversations we began having on social media, I doubt we would’ve arrived at this place where brands hire models who aren’t exclusively size 2, where clothing manufacturers create stylish plus-size options, and where BMI is finally viewed as a flawed health metric.
From body positive influencers to dietitians and health professionals who have worked to establish the idea that you can be healthy and worthy and beautiful at any size, to people who share unedited photos of their bodies to prove that the images we’ve been fed throughout the past few decades are all manufactured to create an unrealistic standard, we’ve made real progress.
But recently, that progress has been threatened.
Little but little, we’re seeing signs that we’re sliding backwards to a place of centering on thinness.
It all seems to have started with Ozempic, the drug that is meant to treat diabetes, but has become synonymous with a quick weight loss solution. As Ozempic started to gain a real foothold, a lot of complicated ideas about this particular drug and the others in its class emerged.
On the one hand, people ought to do what they feel is best for their bodies without input from the outside world (and speculating about whether or not someone is on Ozempic is never okay). For a lot of people, the benefits of a drug like Ozempic outweigh the risks — and ultimately, only they and their doctor can decide whether that’s the case. It’s not our place to litigate whether or not someone “should” be on any medication.
But at the same time, we can’t ignore the fact that drugs like this are playing into the same beauty standards that left so many of us, especially millennial women, with disordered body image, restrictive eating habits, unhealthy relationships to exercise, and self-hate.
The Ozempic craze isn’t showing signs of slowing down.
On top of that, we’re seeing so much additional content about weight loss and “staying skinny’ on social media. Diet Coke, for example, which has been demonized for years thanks to our focus on “clean eating” is making a comeback in a big way. There’s a full-on diet soda renaissance happening, and people are hailing these drinks as the ultimate solution for curbing a sugar craving (or even a hunger pang) without taking in any calories.
And listen, there’s a happy medium to be found where things like Diet Coke are involved, at least in my opinion. I’m certainly not above cracking open a can from time to time. A lot of people, women in particular, love a good diet soda from time to time, and in the grand scheme of things, that’s probably fine. But when we glorify this type of drink as a way to circumvent calorie consumption — even when what your body is asking for is food — it takes us back to some unhealthy habits.
It’s all so reminiscent ‘90s-style diet culture, when we opted for 100 calorie pack snacks, or ate Lean Cuisine for dinner or drank SlimFast shakes purely for the sake of making our bodies as small as possible. We deserve better than that, especially when we’ve worked so hard to get to a healthier, more inclusive place.
Another symbol of ‘90s diet culture? Phrases like “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.”
While we’ve recently recognized it as being completely toxic, somehow, phrases like this are resurfacing. Creators are sharing skinny-centric content along the lines of “what I eat in a day to stay skinny” videos.In light of all we’ve learned about how this type of messaging truly affects people and how far we’ve come in challenging skinny supremacy, this feels even more problematic today than it did in 1994.
Liv Schmidt is the poster child for this type of social media messaging.
Like many TikTok-ers, Schmidt gained a massive following for posting “what I eat in a day” videos — but instead of embracing popular philosophies like intuitive or clean eating, instead of telling the world she’s mindful of what she puts into her body for the sake of health, her videos are openly called “what I eat in a day to stay skinny”.
Schmidt has been criticized for promoting restrictive habits, and she’s pushed back on these claims in a Wall Street Journal interview, saying “I like to be skinny and there’s nothing wrong with that.” She, along with other creators, have unapologetically admitted that they like their bodies at a certain size, and will eat and exercise with the goal of maintaining that size. Ultimately Schmidt was banned from TikTok, but there’s still a group of fellow creators who are posting similar content and spreading similar messages.
It’s all complicated to navigate. On the one hand, messages like this can really get under our skin. They uphold a set of beauty standards that only includes a slice of the population, and they force us into obsessions around food and exercise. We *finally* began reaching a place where we could start to see food as a source of joy, and exercise as a way to strengthen and move our bodies for long-term health — not just as things we need to punish ourselves with in order to maintain a certain number of the scale.
We’ve gotten somewhere, but this is still very much a work in progress. Our collective relationship to size inclusivity is delicate, which is why this type of social media content can feel so dangerous.
At the same time, it’s easy to look at the class of thin, white, conventionally attractive influencers who talk about “all foods fit” philosophies and intuitive eating and wonder how they can embrace this approach while still very much fitting that exclusive beauty standard. Someone could argue that while this “skinny” content can be triggering or even dangerous, at least these influencers are being honest about the fact that they don’t look the way they look without serious effort.
Ultimately, extremes perform well on social media. That’s just the reality of the situation, and that’s why extreme hot takes (on both sides of the spectrum) about Diet Coke and Ozempic and food philosophies are the ones that take off. This in and of itself is dangerous, especially when it comes to content that affects our physical and mental health — and all of this absolutely does.
Zara Hanawalt is a freelance journalist and mom of twins. She's written for outlets like Parents, MarieClaire, Elle, Cosmopolitan, Motherly, and many others. In her (admittedly limited!) free time, she enjoys cooking, reading, trying new restaurants, and traveling with her family.
