The false premise of a never-changing body
On recreational weight loss and Ozempic
Last weekend marked a year since I broke my ankle. It was the only time I’ve broken a bone. The break (a distal fibula fracture for you medical nerds) required surgery, and I’ll likely have a metal plate and seven screws in my leg for the rest of time.
It’s healed well, and I was back to most of my physical activities within a few months. But I’ve been thinking about it recently again not only because of the anniversary, or even because I ran into my orthopedic surgeon at a coffee shop the other week.
Instead, as I’ve read these articles about Ozempic, the diabetes slash weight-loss drug of the moment, I’m remembering how my broken ankle and subsequent recovery taught me some nice stuff about what it means to be in a body that’s constantly changing, and the fallacy of the WASP-adjacent culture of my childhood that prized looking like a teenager for your entire life.
There’s a subset of upper east side moms, most recently depicted to a T in Fleischman Is in Trouble,1 who seem to chase having the body, hair, and face of a 19-year-old girl.
This could be described more broadly as wealthy white woman culture—associating it with New York is probably too narrow. It’s a world I dipped my toe in at times growing up, and one where I never felt comfortable. Back then I, too, pursued thinness as a goal. I, too, viewed any change in my naturally developing body as a threat to my value and acceptance as a woman (*girl).
Thinness was the zeitgeist of the 1990s and early 2000s. The Kate Moss era, the era of having one Diet Coke per day as a treat. I kept a scrapbook of photos of my favorite supermodels (Daria Werbowy, anyone?) and the Olsen twins, all legs and arms and collarbones. Eating disorders were rampant in my high school and college worlds. Unspoken, of course. Using a toothbrush to make yourself vomit will never be cute or sexy or cool.
Over the past decade I’ve felt priorities shift. Maybe it’s living in Alaska, or the effects of the pandemic.2 But it just seems like no one cares about thinness anymore. Here, an ideal body is one that is useful; one that can do things, take you places, be of service. Yes, that view is ableist, and likely reflective of the outdoors enthusiasts with whom I spend my time. It’s nonetheless a refreshing change from thinness culture.
Reading the Ozempic articles launched me back to when I would eye my friends’ waists with monitoring precision. Who looked best in tight jeans? Whose sweater draped most gracefully off of their protruding shoulders? Who skipped lunch or ate only a handful of almonds3 or went on yet another visit to the gym?
It’s a sad and messed-up world: one where the goal is to resemble a lanky teenager. I thought we had moved past this. Even Glennon Doyle recently went public about her disordered eating and journey to reprogramming her brain from its influence. Grown women looking like children isn’t attractive. Not to me at least, anymore.
After I broke my ankle, I lost a bit of weight. I’d been very active before the break and, once I stopped exercising, my muscles kind of disappeared. I don’t know how much weight I lost because I don’t own a scale. But the number doesn’t matter. It was enough to notice in how my clothes fit, in my reflection in the mirror after taking a shower.
I couldn’t walk for two months after my injury and had a lot of time on my hands. I wasn’t spending much money (apart from maxing out all my insurance deductibles and co-pays, lol) and decided to try out an expensive pair of jeans, the kind that look best on skinny bodies. I ordered the jeans and put them on, posing carefully in the mirror on my one functional ankle.
They looked good. A lot of fashion is still designed for that kind of body: slim hips, narrow thighs, pinched waist. They looked good and I wore them a few times around the house, feeling a secret joy in being part of a stupidly expensive and elitist club.
But the feeling faded. I realized that, as soon as I healed and could get back to hiking and biking and skiing, my leg muscles would return. I wouldn’t fit into the jeans so well and I’d resent them.
So I sent them back, losing only the shipping cost. I effectively rented the jeans. I had fun playing dress up as the kind of woman who wore them, and then I woke up and desired to return to my own life.
Back to Ozempic: putting aside the issue of taking a drug that could go to someone with diabetes who needs it for actual health reasons, the idea of paying nearly a thousand dollars a month to suppress my appetite so I could look like how I did as a teenager is wild. The fallacy is laughable: our cells are changing constantly. We can’t go back in time.
I am not a clothes hanger. My body grows and adapts to the environments I inhabit, to the land I traverse. My body is (probably) capable of growing another body within it. My body is but a vessel (couldn’t help it, sorry) for the things I do. It has limits and pains and I need to listen to and respect those. But it’s moving forward in time just as I am. It’s not a mausoleum to my past.
Perhaps others don’t view the pursuit of thinness as related to adolescence in this same way. Some of my critique may be misplaced. For one, I’m naturally lean—my body has fluctuated, sure, but I’ve never been close to overweight. These drugs are clearly a godsend for people living with type 2 diabetes and other weight-related health issues, and it’s wonderful they exist.
But as to those who want a get-thin-quick drug for no reason but thinness itself, my question is: why?
It’s dysmorphic to view thinness as a virtue. Being skinny is not the same as being healthy—anyone who’s gone through chemotherapy will tell you that. Especially when what the Ozempic drugs do is suppress your appetite for as long as you take them, it’s not so different from temporarily losing weight due to an ankle break, cancer, or other objectively unhealthy condition.
Reading these articles feels like a time capsule—I guess I thought popular culture had moved past this obsession with weight loss. At the very least, it’s nice to know that most of the women in my life have done so. It’s exciting to have peers and role models whose bodies have changed (through childbirth, through aging, through illness). It’s exciting to watch as we’ve all found new normals and have learned how beauty and grace comes with life experience. It’s refreshing to focus on my physical ability and health rather than clothing size. And it’s crazy to remember how much time I once spent thinking about my weight or my body type and wishing something was different.
At least I’m here now. Regardless of what my body looks like, I know it’s my job to love and accept and care for it, just the way it is.
Thanks for reading. Credit goes to
’s link roundup last week for getting me to look at the Ozempic articles—I'm glad I did, and would have skipped them otherwise. Again, this topic feels like a time capsule back to when weight mattered, when thinness was god. There’s so much more to give my energy to, and it’s wild to think recreational weight loss is still a thing.Speaking of better uses of time, Vibe Check remains my favorite place for *big issues* like the recent drag show and anti-trans bans, while also providing a laugh and a happy cry/audible hug. For more laughs, Celebrity Book Club with Steven and Lily just keeps getting better. And in the writing department,
continues to cultivate a gorgeous space in their chats and classes, and is on Substack and offering guided backpacking trips for women, trans, and nonbinary folks this spring!Finally, for anyone in the Bay Area, check out Alex Strada and Tali Keren’s upcoming event at Yerba Buena: If Housing Was a Human Right in U.S. Law. I’d attend if I could, but will be up here skiing with my Dad instead! Have a great week—in Alaska news, the Iditarod started this weekend. I got to cheer on some dogs at the ceremonial start and wow they are amazing.
Highly recommend this show.
So many effects to mention: prioritizing health and wellness over thinness, staying at home in our comfy pants, not having to see and dress up for strangers/acquaintances…
Yes, that’s probably an Obama reference.
I’ve certainly gotten heavier snd thicker calves with menopause but can’t say i’ve struggled with weight as some people have. Though of course, as a woman in this culture, I’ve struggled occasionally with my own imsge and fully appreciate your experience with the expensive jeans.
There’s notably been a few times in my life when my waist and legs have gotten larger. And in reflection, each time was when I particularly needed grounding in my life. Very interesting to me how my body seemed to know that. So my legs thickened like tree trunks in order to keep me steady. And when I was free to move and be lighter, my body allowed me. Our bodies always have a greater wisdom than our minds.