“Why don’t you just put the fork down and get to the gym?” The question is garnished with a little pig emoji. Subtle. I’m reading the comments section underneath a random Instagram video on one woman’s experience of taking semaglutide, the weight loss drug that is transforming the public conversation on obesity. The comment is one of many. I scroll by and now another woman is talking about the benefits of hot lemon water first thing in the morning. She drinks it every day before she meditates for 30 minutes. “Definitely avoid coffee before 11am,” she trills. I’m not sure she has any qualifications in nutrition. Or meditation for that matter, but it looks as though she can churn her own butter, so there’s that.
I recall my recent trip to my dentist, when she warned me to avoid lemon water in particular. “It’s such a stupid fad,” she said grumpily. “It damages your enamel. I’m seeing so much of this lemon water nonsense on social media. People think it’s ‘cleansing’. As far as your teeth are concerned, you’re starting the day with a hot cup of acid.” “Right so,” I replied. “Thanks for the advice!”
I’ve been lifting weights three times a week on my doctor’s advice. “In your mid-30s you need it to boost metabolism and ensure good balance and bone health as you age,” she told me. “Right so”, I replied. “Thanks for the advice!”
These pieces of advice from medical professionals seem worth following. I do my best to incorporate them into my life, balancing them against all of the dreck that women in particular must wade through when attempting to protect their health and sanity to navigate a good life. Because we strongly outperform men as consumers of health and wellness products, most of these products are targeted at us. Some of the wellness conversation is valuable. A lot of it isn’t. It’s the volume that makes it baffling. The effort to differentiate sense from insanity.
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Wellness is a thriving industry – valued at $6.8 trillion last year – and in a time and culture where most of us wrestle with the pervasive feeling that something is “off” in our lives, we are prime targets for products that claim to fix us. There is a vulnerability to the current moment, when basic healthcare can be challenging to access and spurious information can be difficult to discern from the reliable kind.
The social media wellness engine is a lot to contend with. For women, we’re told we should be doing the lemon water and meditation (but not really because of the enamel thing). Getting up at 5am to work out. Taking supplements whether or not you have evidence that you’re deficient in anything (unrelatedly, they’re poorly regulated in many jurisdictions, cheap to make and sold at an astonishing markup). The idea that therapy is something most people need now – rather than some people dealing with distinct challenges – is relatively new. You should work full time and maintain an identity outside your role as a mother, but you should always be present for your children (have you tried this juice cleanse to help manage the stress of trying to be two entirely separate people simultaneously? You might also be more comfortable if you bought these leggings). Cook and eat whole foods – do not under any circumstances eat processed food or serve it to your family.
If you gain weight, you should feel shame. If you try to lose it and fail, you should feel shame. If you lose it successfully, you should feel shame that you didn’t accept yourself before. Work to do there.
Have you tried Pilates? The person teaching the class is incorporating weird new age pseudo-religion for some reason. It costs extra. You’re overwhelmed? Have you tried crystals? Astrology? Touching grass?
Feminist philosophers like Simone de Beauvoir and Susan Bordo would argue that perpetual pressure for women to focus upon rigorously controlling their bodies is a profitable way of distracting us from bigger questions. It’s harder to push back when you’re hungry and worried about how your arms look in this top. An emphasis on the individual can result in overlooking the systemic. It can keep us focused on smaller stuff – “if I can just get through this week, or get on top of this one issue, or feel better about my body, then things will settle down”.
However, you don’t need to take a feminist perspective to take issue with the stranglehold the wellness industry seems to have on women. Consider Jean Baudrillard’s theory of hyperreality, in which representations become more important or real to us than reality itself. The status of looking healthy is prioritised over being healthy. The resurgence of extreme thinness has proved that the last decade of body positivity was largely insincere. “Self-care” can be valuable but it can also be performative – more about the illusion of a curated lifestyle and social media feed than health, balance or anything else that is actually good for us. Women are overwhelmed because these are overwhelming times. Lemon water and home-churned butter won’t cut it.
