Author’s Note: This article contains and discusses content related to eating disorders and disordered eating. This piece will exclude specific weight-related details.
I entered this fall semester with a fresh eating disorder diagnosis. Initially, I refused to believe that conclusion. Even the term eating disorder acted like a death sentence in my mind. Despite disordered thoughts fueling that sentiment, I shamed myself immensely. Why did I allow this to happen? While my body actively fought literal starvation, I entered the school year. I then came to realize that men are to blame.
Obviously, I am being facetious. Relax, pal. Although, a man in one of my courses who last fall semester viewed me as disgusting now plays one-sided eye tag with me now. I know the cheeky language perhaps creates a flippant tone, but that interaction deeply disturbed me and prompted this piece. I do not intend to shame this particular man, but rather highlight how normalized diet culture remains. A man who refused to even look me in the eyes and completely ignored me in a four-person group discussion (the only other woman was white and thin) last year, now shows some sort of interest in me. Why? Now that I’m fifty pounds lighter, perhaps now I’m worth his gaze.
When skinniness becomes a safety net, a certain comfort develops. In this context, I mean comfort as an ideal. Skinniness is an aesthetically violent concept. Attempting to attain a media-imposed, objectively unrealistic beauty standard perpetually harms you. The Body Liberation Network describes this concept systematically and internally. Aesthetic violence includes emotional and physical violence towards the minority and self-directed violence towards one’s self to maintain the visual standard.
When the media establishes skinniness as a trend and jests or superficially criticizes its resurgence, it strips away the cruelty and viciousness of the culture — it becomes impersonal. Fashion drives trends and I can buy leopard print clothing anywhere, diet culture pushes skinniness, but I can’t buy skinniness…
A Forbes article detailing some key GLP-1 statistics and trends in 2026 revealed that prescriptions for GLP-1 drugs for obesity increased 587% from 2019 to 2024. The culture is shifting. Once body positivity lost its marketability, diet culture surged. To abide by the beauty standard, to evade body-shaming or bullying, to avoid a loss of social worth, one must become skinny.
The Body Liberation Network poses an interesting question. “Why do we consider self-inflicted violence in pursuit of beauty as acceptable?” No one wants to consider their behavior as violent. Orri, an eating disorder treatment clinic, argues these trends, especially trends like “SkinnyTok,” glorify thinness by disguising extreme dieting or calorie restriction as “wellness” or clean-eating. Going hungry no longer implies food insecurity or poverty; going hungry means ‘locking in’ or ‘cutting.’ The phrase “beauty is pain” feels oblivious. I considered hunger pains an indicator of progression. When I lost my hunger cues, I thought I achieved skinniness. In actuality, my body was experiencing severe starvation, to the point where I lost those cues to conserve energy.
I’m sharing my personal experiences because I never considered my violent behavior problematic until someone expressed fear for my well-being. A person’s self-worth is not defined by their weight or body image. Losing a few pounds might feel harmless or like a “healthy” decision, but identify a core intention and the social influences. I’m not insinuating anyone should or could dismantle a deeply-ingrained social construct by mindfully thinking. I’m advocating for self-awareness and self-love.
Featured image: Betty Cavicchia’28
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