Content warning: this article contains mentions of eating disorders, body image and health anxiety
Nearly a year ago I decided to take up running. I was on a health kick and felt I owed my body some more movement, an increased heart rate, and some kind of boost for my cardiovascular system. Owing to a surprising level of self-discipline, I have persisted in running 3 times a week to this day, along with the hodgepodge workout routine I seem to change as religiously as I perform it. Naturally, I feel better for it. I’ve been focusing on my protein intake, my iron levels and the quality of my gut’s microbiome like I never did before. But, as someone with a personality veering more toward order, routine and control, I can sometimes sense the creeping danger of a health obsession.
Of course, on the surface, maintaining fitness and feeling nourished and energised within your body is great. Especially when considering all the barriers against good health, such as increased food prices, gym memberships and lack of knowledge access, health is – more often than not – a privilege and is, therefore, something that should be cherished. Yet there is a certain mood surrounding wellness culture, cultivated largely in online spaces, that might lead one below this positive surface and into ironically unwell, damaging patterns.
Existing online with a phone that listens, tracks and tailors its social media algorithms, it was inevitable that I would fall into rabbit holes of running content. What used to be full of photography, artwork and fashion soon transitioned to an exemplary display of wellness culture in all its clean, precise bows and whistles. 5k tips scrolled into “how to maximise leg day,”swiped next to a cabinet full of fish oil supplements, magnesium bath salts and collagen powder. This will cleanse your body! This will heal your body! You must start doing exactly this now or you will be immobile in old age! New posts pop up with seemingly enough credentials (perhaps the poster is a practicing physiotherapist, or has an MSc in nutrition), charismatically sharing the “one-and-only” truth to health betterment. The ease of access to such advice is enticing, and for someone who gets disproportionately anxious about the smallest of symptoms, it is very easy to get pulled into this online sphere that consistently offers so many solutions to my fears.
The vast array of supplements, herbal concoctions, meal plans and “maximum benefit” workout routines can get increasingly overwhelming. Although most popular wellness and lifestyle content is packaged in a slick, minimalist, “clean girl”-esque aesthetic appeal, the actual messages are never as simple as they appear. Sure, crow pose and getting 30 different plants in a week appears a cake walk on a screen, but – when it comes down to it – the levels of self-restriction, subtle food shaming and unrealistic bodily expectations are rampant. The participatory, community-feel nature of these posts asks a lot from the people watching: adopt all of these habits yourself in order to fix your problems! And the calm, seemingly arbitrary, day-in-the-life visuals deny the level of time, money, planning and mental energy that can go into the “perfect,” healthy lifestyle.
For women in particular, disciplining the body – how it looks, holds itself and weighs – is nothing new. Much of wellness culture now can be related to a growing trend or, rather, a cycle back to 2000s era body standards, that is: thinness teetering on extremity. Although the 2010s and early 2020s saw a rise in body positivity, wellness culture’s online sphere seems, more and more, to emphasise the body’s visual appearance as a marker of physical wellbeing. Health is equated with thinness – a dangerous idea that feeds the delusion that an “optimum” external appeal is a true reflection of internal perfection. “Take this final advice to lose your last kilos,” they say, while women are pushed further up the Sisyphean climb toward unrealistic ideals.
In fact, fitness and health content, at its worst, can function a lot like online pro-anorexia forums: fostering a sense of community, maintaining shared goals, tracking progress. When suffering from anxieties and insecurities regarding your body or your health, content that disguises itself as encouragement can easily be interpreted as enforcement and bodily judgment.
It is no surprise that, along with the current rising knowledge of pilates, health supplements and other tokens of wellness culture, there has also been a rise in reported cases of orthorexia. Consisting of an extreme fixation and obsession surrounding food safety and purity, orthorexia has been linked to social media usage, such as following health food-based accounts. Although wellness can be deemed a hobby or a kind of innocent pastime, some people’s genuine enjoyment and self-fulfilment can slip into dangerous mental territory for others. Heavy food restrictions, excessive exercise, and thousands spent on expensive health products are not and shouldn’t be commonplace, as much as they can be pedalled online.
It is an unfortunate trap that what can bring feelings of success and contentment into a woman’s life can simultaneously act as a policing of her body. In Trick Mirror, cultural critic Jia Tolentino comments on the effects of gendered socialisation on women’s interests: “When you’re a woman, the things you like get used against you. Or, alternatively, the things that get used against you have all been prefigured as things you should like.” For those of us interested in activities that have been, and still are, confused through patriarchal body standards, it is important to remember that, in the barrage of influencer videos and pseudo-medical advice, you should not push yourself into an unsafe state.
In my own experience of wellness culture as it exists online, I am still learning to know when to distance myself and what it truly means to look after my body, both emotionally and physically. Yes, self-discipline and challenging goals can be beneficial, but that should never be at the expense of bodily freedom and mental health. The constant thinking and worrying about the body’s aesthetics, movements, and health reduces the time and joy available to actually live in it. I know that I will continue to have moments of overthinking, as is only natural, yet, when it comes to food and fitness, I am going to be assured that my feelings are more important than so-called health “perfection”.