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Yesterday morning, I received an email from a representative of a so-called “weight care” program. She rambled on for several paragraphs about how unique their approach was compared to typical diets, claiming it was science-based and non-judgmental. Their focus was on improving health markers like cholesterol and blood pressure rather than just shedding pounds. It sounded revolutionary, and she was convinced I would be eager to share this with my audience.
However, my skepticism was on high alert due to the overwhelming diet culture jargon in her message. To verify, I clicked on the link and completed a quick health survey to see what they would recommend for me. Ten minutes later, I discovered that their “holistic, science-based” approach for me involved prescription weight loss medications. I felt like that iconic moment in “The Devil Wears Prada.”
“Florals? For Spring? Groundbreaking.”
Usually, I would ignore such proposals, but this time I replied that I wouldn’t be the right advocate for any intentional weight loss program and that her interests would be better served elsewhere. Because honestly, my sentiment toward the weight loss industry is simple: a resounding F*** YOU.
Especially now, as many Americans report weight gain due to the pandemic, the weight loss industry is poised to cash in. After all, they need to make up for losses incurred when gyms closed and in-person meetings ceased, leaving people without the pressure to shell out hundreds for supplements and food that essentially just boils down to a calorie deficit and a multivitamin.
Many of us gained weight because we were stuck at home during a deadly pandemic, mourning nearly 600,000 lives lost to a virus we barely knew two years ago. We’ve had our children learning from home and navigating an altered world. If we found solace in cooking and indulged a little more during this time—SO WHAT?
As we transition back into regular life, many of us might gradually see our bodies return to pre-pandemic weights. Personally, I’ve noticed some weight loss in the last couple of months because I felt comfortable leaving home again after getting vaccinated. I was able to visit my doctor and resume treatment for my polycystic ovarian syndrome. It’s almost like weight fluctuation is F***ING NORMAL.
Now, regarding the diet industry, I will forever be disgusted by the multi-billion-dollar weight loss sector. They hide behind terms like health, wellness, and lifestyle change, pressuring you into believing your life depends on their services. They reduce health to a number on a scale, promoting harmful practices like starvation, over-exercising, and consuming largely unregulated supplements. Their so-called “communities” are designed to keep you engaged and spending more money. The ratio of success stories to failures is staggering, yet the few that succeed become proof that the program works—as long as you have enough willpower.
No matter what they’re offering, they insist it’s universally beneficial, no matter your history—far better than that “unattractive” belly fat! The entire diet industry profits by making people feel terrible about their bodies, perpetually convinced they are works in progress striving toward an unattainable ideal.
The diet industry exploits our emotions, using before-and-after photos that feature sad, downtrodden individuals in ill-fitting workout clothes next to glowing, confident “after” pictures. Often, the “before” images are already closer to the ideal than many average people, making us feel even worse: “If SHE needed this program, I must REALLY need it.”
Let me clarify—I don’t oppose those who choose to diet. If you’re committed to a program and wish to change your body, that’s your choice. I believe you are the authority over your body, and you have every right to make decisions regarding it. However, I find the companies profiting from your weight loss to be predatory. Their business model thrives on your eventual failure.
I wholeheartedly support making conscientious choices about your body. Eating mostly nutrient-rich, unprocessed foods—when possible—is beneficial because it’s delicious and fuels us. Listening to hunger cues and separating food from morality is vital. Enjoyable movement, whether it means dancing with your child or engaging in a challenging workout, is also important.
Moving feels good. Eating tasty food feels good. Feeling safe and at home in your body feels good. I actively support individuals doing whatever they need to achieve peace within themselves. My feelings about my body fluctuate between neutrality and radical acceptance. Most days, I feel at peace with my body, acknowledging its beauty, strength, and function. But I also recognize that I don’t always love how it looks. When life naturally causes me to lose weight, I appreciate that feeling. I don’t equate my self-worth with my weight, but I do feel a bit more comfortable in my skin when I’m lighter.
Still, I refuse to give any money to companies promising “holistic weight care” when their real agenda is to sell me pills and other products with the hope that I’ll be “skinny” one day. No thank you. The weight loss industry can take a hike.
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In summary, the weight loss industry is a predatory force that preys on insecurities and promotes harmful practices under the guise of health and wellness. It’s essential to prioritize self-acceptance and make informed choices about our bodies without falling prey to the industry’s tactics.
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