Content warning: This article contains themes of body image, weight, and other related topics.
I have always been fat. I know that there’s nothing wrong with being fat — and nothing wrong with pointing that out about myself — because my body is not good or bad or anything else based on its size. So why don’t content creators on Instagram want me to feel this way?
If you’re an Instagram user, you’ve likely been recommended some form of nutritional or fitness content: a “what I eat in a day” video or maybe a new “10 minute lazy girl ab workout,” the works. If you don’t engage with it, it goes away. If you do…wait a few days and watch your algorithm transform into an ugly amalgamation of thinspo, gym bros and broads, and skinny propaganda. Like this:
“I used to think red lipstick would make me confident, but nothing does it like…being skinny.”
I watched past those three little dots because I believed that beyond them lay some nugget of style wisdom. Instead, I was bombarded with skinny propaganda. As always, the bottom line communicated is that when it comes to living the chicest lifestyle possible, being thin is the standard.
Note, the creator mentions in her caption “Self-confidence isn’t about starving yourself.” However, this doesn’t seem to capture the message of the reel. Top commenter @lazysureman writes, “i truly hope you understand how harmful posting this is. some 11 year old is going to see this and never forget.” Meanwhile, the second top comment states,“Facts that NO ONE wants to recognize.”
#SpringBreakSkinny is in, according to influencer Liv Schmidt. I’ll save you some time watching the following video — here are my highlights:
“Wake up feeling light, tight, and unbothered.”
“Habits that make looking good and feeling skinny second nature.”
“Quick 3-5 minute workouts, because being toned is the goal, not bulky.”
“Subscribe to my Instagram exclusive content in my bio!” followed by a kissy to the camera.
Sorry Liv Schmidt, but by God, if this woman isn’t preying on my insecurities to grab up my money! She masterfully weaves in her sale with the little moments of humiliation so crucial to the universal urge to lose weight: comparing yourself to other women, feeling bloated when it’s time for the pool, going out and hating yourself for it the next morning, spring break.
It’s not lost on me that influencers are simply exploiting an opportunity given to them by Instagram — influencer content is seeded to users that Instagram believes will interact with it. As a content creator, the more emotions and evocative imagery you invoke, the more your viewer sticks with you, the more engagement you receive on reels, and the more your brand partnerships pay you. It’s an easy arrangement to sort out.
But what about us? What about those of us who have been falling victim to pro-ana and ED content since our childhoods? Do we matter to this company?
To me, it’s an obvious no. Of course not. We’re treated as mere means for profit in an oligarch’s machination of skinny propaganda. Who cares if we pick up some self-hatred and life-altering behaviors on the way?
Now, listen, I myself have tried time and time again to get off of the god-forsaken app — and I haven’t succeeded. I spent a solid two years off of Instagram, just to come back home to Zuckberg anyway. That is to say, this article isn’t a call to action, a scolding, or anything other than a commiseration. I know that I’m not the only one getting accosted by this, frankly, bullsh*t.
If you’re fed up with it too, it’s my hope that we can, together, hold space for our experiences and acknowledge that we are worth more and full of so much more life than an algorithm could ever know. Instagram’s algorithm will never know my body or my mind like I do — it should have no bearing on the way I choose to treat either.