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Yesterday morning, I opened my inbox to find a message from a PR representative promoting a so-called “weight care” program. They went on for paragraphs about how this approach was different from traditional diets, claiming it was science-driven and non-judgmental—focusing on improving health markers like cholesterol and blood pressure instead of just shedding pounds. They were convinced I’d want to share this groundbreaking plan with my audience.
But my skepticism radar was going off, buzzing with every diet culture buzzword they used. To confirm my hunch, I clicked on the link and filled out a quick health survey to see what they would recommend for me.
Ten frustrating minutes later, I discovered that their “holistic, science-based, revolutionary plan” boiled down to prescription weight loss medication. I felt like Miranda Priestly in “The Devil Wears Prada.”
“Florals? For Spring? Groundbreaking.”
Usually, I ignore these pitches, but this time I replied, stating that I wouldn’t be the right person to promote any intentional weight loss program and that they would be better off elsewhere. Because honestly, my feelings about the weight loss industry can be summed up as a resounding SCREW YOU.
Especially now, as a significant number of Americans report gaining weight during the pandemic, the weight loss industry is eager to capitalize on this. They want to recover the losses they faced when gyms closed and meetings were canceled, pushing people to spend hundreds of dollars on supplements and foods that often just equate to a multivitamin and a calorie deficit.
Many of us gained weight because we were confined at home during a deadly pandemic, witnessing nearly 600,000 American lives lost to a virus that was unknown two years ago. Our children have been learning in a bizarre world, either at home or in unusual school settings. So what if we indulged a bit more, moved a bit less, or found joy in cooking and trying new recipes?
As we return to normalcy, many will naturally see their bodies revert to pre-pandemic weights. Personally, I have lost some weight in the past two months because, after being fully vaccinated, I’ve felt more comfortable engaging in activities outside my home. I was able to see my doctor and resume medication for my polycystic ovarian syndrome. My body is adjusting back to its pre-pandemic form as I return to pre-pandemic habits.
It’s almost as if weight fluctuation is COMPLETELY NORMAL.
Now, about that diet industry…
I will always be disgusted by the multi-billion-dollar weight loss sector. They hide behind comforting terms like health, wellness, and lifestyle change to convince you that your happiness is contingent on giving them money. The weight loss industry reduces health to a number on a scale, promoting dangerous behaviors like starvation, excessive exercise, and reliance on unregulated supplements. They create “communities” to “motivate” you to stay in their programs, encouraging you to spend more money. The ratio of “success” stories to “failures” is staggering, yet the few who “succeed” are paraded as proof that the program works if you’re committed enough.
Regardless of what they’re selling, they promise that it’s inherently good for everyone, far better than the “unacceptable” belly fat. The entire business model of the diet industry thrives on making people feel awful about their bodies, reinforcing the idea that they are perpetual works in progress, always striving for an unattainable ideal.
They manipulate our emotions with “before” photos of sad, dowdy individuals in ill-fitting athletic gear, staring blankly into the distance. The “after” images showcase smiling, confident people dressed to the nines, exclaiming how happy they are now that they “look great!” Oftentimes, the “before” images are closer to the ideal body than most of us will ever attain, making us feel even worse. “If SHE needed this program, I must REALLY need it.”
Let me clarify: I am not against dieters.
If you’re a devoted follower of a program, I respect your right to make choices about your body. As I tell my kids, YOU are the boss of your body, and you have the authority to decide what goes into it. However, I find the creators and beneficiaries of these programs to be predatory. The weight loss industry thrives on your eventual failure, and that’s a pretty exploitative business model.
I wholeheartedly support making thoughtful choices about your own body. I believe in eating mostly nutrient-dense, unprocessed foods when possible because they are delicious and provide good fuel. I advocate for learning to listen to your hunger cues and separating food from morality. I also endorse using your body for enjoyable movement, whether that’s hula hooping with your niece or pushing your limits in a CrossFit gym.
Moving feels good. Eating tasty food is pleasurable. Feeling comfortable and secure in your own skin is essential.
I embrace a range of feelings about my body, from neutral to radical acceptance, depending on the day. Most of the time, I find peace with my body. I won’t spend my life battling against it, and I see beauty, strength, and health when I look at my perfectly functioning self. But I’m not always head over heels for how it looks. When life naturally leads to some weight loss, I enjoy that feeling. While I don’t feel more worthy or acceptable at a lower weight, I do feel a bit more at ease in my body.
Ultimately, I refuse to give a single cent to any company promising “holistic weight care” when what they really mean is “take this pill and call me when you’re skinny so I can sell you something else.” No thanks. The weight loss industry can take a hike.
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