The case for talking about weight in celebrity culture.
Can we stop colluding with Hollywood’s collective eating disorder?
If we ever want true body diversity we have to talk critically about celebrities’ bodies. Body positivity has come and gone and disappearing actresses are front and center. When it comes to celebrating body diversity, we have lost steam.
Wicked is receiving as much attention for the actresses’ bodies as it is for the acting. There is backlash against this discourse, of course, especially around award season time. But as a psychologist specializing in eating disorders, I am beyond worried about the disappearing celebrities in front of us, and I believe we need to build constructive ways of addressing Hollywood’s collective anorexia. It is time to address things head on.
Body Talk, the practice of making comments on one’s appearance, is often discouraged in the field of eating disorder treatment. I am constantly reminding people that “we don’t talk about other people’s bodies.” I have had countless conversations with clients and friends alike about the need to set boundaries around making such comments. Encouraging less body talk in one’s personal life is an empowering experience.
When Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo did their first press tour last year, many chimed in about their physiques. Then came the discourse about why we should not be talking about these young women’s bodies: You never know what someone’s going through, and commenting on weight implies that that’s the most important thing about them. Personally, I found myself airing on the side of not engaging in these conversations. It feels strange to comment on another woman’s body. It goes against much of the work I do with clients.
During this second press tour, though, I found myself experiencing a different response. Yes, all the reasons not to comment on other people’s bodies are valid and valuable. But what if shining a spotlight on how scary thin women in Hollywood have gotten is actually a lifeline for women struggling with their own bodies? Suggesting we limit discourse around disappearing women in the spotlight can be a gaslighting experience for people who believe they, too, need to be that thin in order to be “healthy” or be perceived as “beautiful.” I see it in my own practice.
Watching my clients struggle in the GLP-1 era, where the almighty algorithm feeds them countless images of shrinking physiques and tells them these women’s bodies are ok, or even something to emulate, has reshaped my perspective on these conversations. My clients often take breaks from social media to try to reduce the influence of such content, but the reality is that a social media hiatus does not inoculate one against the extreme thinness in the zeitgeist. And seeing more thoughtful critique of the extreme thinness can serve as a way of ringing alarms bells for people with a history of disordered eating. What if it is not only ok to comment but rather cathartic to express concern and frustration around celebrity women seemingly disappear?
I understand where the desire for less body talk around celebrities’ bodies comes from. For one, there is a concern of the trickle-down effect. The idea is that if this practice is normalized, then it makes it harder for non-celebrities to tell loved ones to stop talking about their bodies. But the new Wicked release feels different; it appears to mark a deep acceptance of Hollywood’s extreme thinness. Eating disorders are very much on the rise, GLP-1’s are advertised on network television, and MAHA has furthered the vilification of processed foods. It’s starting to feel like diet culture feels is here to stay. So, given the circumstances, I think attempting to neutralize these body comments is actually problematic.
Another concern about talking about actors’ bodies is that it is perceived as body shaming. In fact, Ariana Grande said as much: “There is a comfortability that people have with commenting on [people’s bodies] that I think is really dangerous.”
However, it’s even more dangerous not to address how thin Hollywood has gotten. It is not body shaming; it could be helpful to so many people who are considering engaging in damaging behaviors. In the work I do with clients, we often talk about “colluding with the eating disorder.” This centers on trying to unpack the ways in which people with disordered eating can help someone maintain their illness rather than help them move toward recovery. This might look like not pushing back on a friend’s newfound veganism that has them restricting more food and pulling away socially. It might look like congratulating friends on their weight loss without knowing the circumstances. Finding ways to challenge disordered behaviors as opposed to colluding with them is hard but imperative. And that includes putting those behaviors in the spotlight. Afterall, secrets keep us sick.
There is nuance in how to critique thin Hollywood. I wholeheartedly believe in body autonomy, and celebrity gossip culture is rough. Having critical dialogue about this means, calling attention but also connecting the dots that the pressures these women face are profound. I cannot imagine being on display for the world, but I am more fearful that if we don’t address that these women appear as if they are suffering—at the very least, from the pressures of diet culture that has them appearing incredibly thin—we run the risk of normalizing this aesthetic.
I am suggesting that we talk about actor’s intense weight loss and dramatically thin bodies as a means of attacking diet culture, the belief system that promotes thinness and perpetuates thin ideals, often under the auspices of health. Diet culture negatively impacts everyone, suggesting that there is one “right body” and everything else is bad. This is incredibly damaging. Actors are obviously incredibly susceptible to the pressures of achieving some ideal body. Sadly, in many cases, their careers hinge on their appearance.
Every comment about a celebrity’s body offers an opportunity to highlight the dangers of diet culture and how it is perpetuated. In diet culture, thinness offers safety. It is far safer to pursue thinness (if that is the ideal) than it is to stick out. And celebrities are not immune to feeling fearful. Competition is fierce, AI is adding an element of uncertainty, (yes, in acting too) and it seems like aging seems is not allowed.
People pre-disposed to disordered eating have a tendency to internalize messages perpetuated in diet culture. Ultimately, the extreme thinness we are seeing gives us an opportunity to talk openly about the dangers of not challenging this systemic issue.
The intensified pressure to achieve thinness leaves many feeling tempted to turn to drastic measures. When we skirt the issue and re-center the conversation on how we shouldn’t talk about bodies, people who are working to actively reject diet culture can begin to feel hopeless. A constructive dialogue is a step in the direction of rejecting diet culture, something that would benefit everyone.



I love this perspective and I could have written this. I hate that it feels like we can’t comment on the alarming trend of extreme thinness because we might offend someone or it is seen as commenting on someone’s body.
I’ve had anorexia for 18 years and it’s so hard to stay motivated to recover and gain weight when it seems like all the celebrities and people on social media are shrinking, whether that’s with a GLP-1 or an eating disorder. When I raise concern about GLP-1s and how I find it problematic that they’re touted as “miracle drugs,” I get push back from people who are on them and act like I’m crazy because I’ve heard about people eating the same amount of calories as I have in my ED while on one. I also don’t like the idea that they make ultra processed foods or foods high in sugar/fat in a “dangerous/bad” category because eating them on a GLP-1 usually causes severe GI symptoms.
I wish body size and gaining/losing weight weren’t such fraught issues because I feel like there are very few safe spaces now where I can even express concern about extreme thinness and GLP-1s.
This opens a needed conversation that so many people are already having internally. I appreciate how you hold concern and care at the same time without turning it into blame. It creates room to question what we’re being shown without turning away from the people inside those bodies. That kind of dialogue feels protective, not harmful.