Is Fiber the New Face of Restriction?

Plus, how we can avoid turning nourishment into numbers

If you’ve spent any time on TikTok or Instagram lately, you’ve probably come across the newest buzzword: fibermaxxing.

The idea? Eat all the fiber you can in your meals and snacks. Influencers are gaining millions of views as they share their maxed out fiber concoctions—how they exceed the daily recommendation fiber intake to “reduce bloat,” support digestion, stabilize blood sugar, feel fuller longer, and (you knew it was coming)… lose weight. Many are even naming it “nature’s Ozempic.”

It’s part nutrition advice, part social media challenge, and part wellness-y biohacking culture. And on the surface, it sounds great. Fiber is good for us. We need it.

Photo by David Hunter on Unsplash

In fact, I’ve been talking about fiber for years.

While the high-protein influencers, keto bloggers, and carnivore bros have been pushing extreme grams of protein in everything from cookies to sparkling water, I was over here gently reminding people that skimping on carbs doesn’t do us any favors.

There are many, many reasons that carbs are wonderful — including but not limited to: energy, hormone production, brain function, immune support, convenience, blood sugar regulation, hunger and fullness cues, mood, sleep, satisfaction, and a positive relationship with food.

Also? Carbs are where we get fiber. And yes, that makes for a happier digestive system.

Several months ago, I noticed that many dietitians in the anti-diet space (a space I identify with in my work) were talking about fiber as the nutrient that truly needs our attention. And honestly, I couldn’t agree more.

Because while protein has been the star of the social media nutrition show — the “protein hysteria” so many of us have witnessed — the truth is, research shows that most Americans aren’t actually lacking protein. Meanwhile, many do fall short of fiber recommendations. For example, data tells us that only about 5-10% of Americans meet their daily fiber needs. This isn’t all that shocking, given the carbohydrate fear-mongering we’ve been inundated with for decades.

Fiber deserves our love and respect — no question.

But what happens when a simple nutrient evolves into a social media trend, a challenge, even a fixation? Does it highlight a much-needed nutrition discourse? Does it cause harm? Is it possible that it does both?

Today, I want to press pause for a moment and hold this “fibermaxxing” trend in the light of a bigger, more complicated picture — one shaped by diet culture, weight stigma, and the lived experience of many folks recovering from or struggling with disordered eating. Because like many things in nutrition, when it falls into the “wrong” hands, it can slide quickly into a not-so-innocent conversation.

Let’s start with what the trend is getting right.

Fiber absolutely supports many aspects of health. (Again, I will repeat, since often an anti-diet approach is mistakingly seen as an anti-nutrition approach: I am a big fan of fiber. Zero issues with fiber.)

So when posts on social media detail the benefits of eating fiber, there is plenty of truth to it. For example, fiber has a role in digestive function, regular bowel movements, and potentially even our mood. It can improve blood sugar response, especially for those with diabetes, and can be supportive in lowering levels of LDL and total cholesterol. Fiber intake is also correlated with a reduced risk of colon cancer, along with many other correlated factors (let’s not reduce food choices down to being a sole determinant of medical conditions).

Okay, wonderful — hooray for fiber!

So where do the claims start to bread down?

Well, most of these benefits plateau after reaching an adequate intake — usually around 25 to 38 grams per day. “Maxxing out” (going far beyond that amount) doesn’t necessarily confer more benefits, and can actually cause digestive distress (more on that later).

And as we’ve seen with other nutrition fads (ahem, protein), the moralization of certain nutrients is not harm-free—it can fundamentally alter a person’s relationship with food by causing food preoccupation, creating nutrient and ingredient-related anxiety, or reigniting dormant eating disorder patterns. The mental and emotional toll of trends like this really need to be taken into consideration, especially given the prevalence of orthorexic messaging these days.

Photo by Aleksander Saks on Unsplash

Part of me fears that fiber is becoming the new protein. And I really don’t want this to be the case, because wouldn’t it be lovely if we could all just eat fiber and protein (and carbs and fats and all the things) without being convinced we must go to extremes? But alas, that’s not what fuels social media virality, wellness culture smokescreens, or fear-based purchasing.

Just like protein got swept up in a culture of “more is better,” “hack your macros,” and “optimize at all costs,” “fibermaxxing” could walk that same tightrope. And just like protein is a necessary nutrient—one that we benefit from eating—fiber is, too. I feel like I have to constantly repeat myself here: I am a fan of both protein and fiber. Big fan.

When it comes to nutrient fads, it’s not the nutrient itself that is worrisome — it’s the way it’s portrayed.

When one food or nutrient is cast as the hero of health and the “cure” for disease, it invites obsession instead of compassion, a fixation with certain foods over others, and a bit of moral panic. So a simple health tip about fiber? Fantastic. But in the context of a TikTok takeover where aesthetics matter more than true well-being? It can unfortunately become a way to restrict, to control, and to measure our worth by how many vegetables we can shove onto our plates.

I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again: no one in the anti-diet space is saying “don’t eat protein” or “don’t care about protein.” We’re saying: let’s not perpetuate protein hysteria or weaponize one macronutrient in ways that don’t actually serve people’s health or relationship with food. I want us to have that same critical, compassionate eye on fiber. Because yes, it’s important. But no, it isn’t a tool to control appetite, shame hunger, or justify food restriction.

Speaking of restriction…

Here is where the trend gives me some pause.

The seductive promises of this social media fiber frenzy don’t end with digestion, blood sugar, cholesterol, or nutrient variety. They seep into weight stigma, dieting behaviors, and even wellness misinformation.

Some of the claims that toe this line include (yes, I went down the social media rabbit hole so you didn’t have to):

• “helps you stay fuller longer!” (code for: eat less overall)

• “decreases bloat and inflammation!” (code for: shrink your body)

• “reduces your cravings!” (code for: suppress your hunger cues)

• “stops you from snacking!” (code for: deny yourself food)

• “lose stubborn weight!” (code for: oh, wait, this one says the quiet part out loud.)

Now, are all of these black-or-white? No, of course there could be nuance to some of them. It’s nice to be full after a meal, for instance. It’s also wonderful to find ways to feel more satisfied during the day. But we do that through eating enough, not just loading up on high-fiber foods to reduce our reliance on other things that diet culture would deem “unhealthy.”

Fiber? Great. Volume eating as a way to eat less and ignore what our body is asking for? Can become problematic.

So, for folks with a history of disordered eating, “fibermaxxing” can feel less like a wellness hack and more like a familiar trap. Many of us know the mental tug-of-war that comes from seeking ways to “trick” our hunger — filling bowls with massive portions of low-calorie, high-fiber foods in the hope of staying full while eating less overall.

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

While it might look “healthy” on the outside, the emotional reality can be a quiet return to old rules: ignoring cravings, distrusting our bodies, and chasing control over true nourishment. Physically, extreme fiber intake can cause bloating, pain, constipation, or diarrhea. It can also crowd out other important food groups that have a critical place on our plate.

And perhaps more importantly, it can dull the signals that tell us we’re hungry — making it harder to rebuild a peaceful relationship with food. Over time, relying on fullness from fiber instead of enough calories (energy!) may keep us stuck in the same deprivation mindset we’re trying to heal from. The cost may not only be digestive discomfort; it could lead to the erosion of trust in our bodies and in the belief that we deserve to eat until we’re genuinely satisfied.

In the era of Ozempic, we also have to be wary of nutrition fads that could be upholding more insidious messages about bodies, weight, and appetite suppression.

Many dietary trends are being shaped by the new reality of weight loss through GLP-1 medications, which slow gastric emptying and reduce hunger.

The risk? When you combine these drugs with fibermaxxing, you may double down on appetite suppression, which can dangerously increase the likelihood of undernourishment.

(For more on GLP-1s, and why I believe in informed consent to allow for body autonomy and personal choice with these medications, listen to this episode.)

I mentioned earlier that eating as much fiber as possible is being promoted as “nature’s Ozempic.” And that framing alone should give us pause. When we compare everyday foods to a pharmaceutical designed to drastically alter metabolism, appetite, and digestion, we reduce food to its utility for weight suppression instead of honoring it for nourishment, connection, and pleasure. It’s another way of saying, “Your body is the problem, and here’s a trick to make it smaller or hungrier for less.”

When we silence or override hunger, whether through medication, extreme fiber intake, or other diet tricks, we’re not building health. We’re disconnecting from our bodies’ most basic wisdom. And in that disconnection, diet culture thrives.

Since we live in a culture that applauds “less hunger = more health,” I want to gently remind you: hunger is a vital cue and a sign of aliveness — not a failure or something to outsmart.

What if instead of asking, how can I feel less hungry? we asked, what is my hunger trying to tell me? What does my body need right now to feel cared for, energized, and nourished?

That’s the question that honors both our biology and our humanity.

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Here is what I wish people knew before jumping on the “fibermaxxing” wagon:

1. If you’re interested in increasing fiber, that’s wonderful. Just remember: it does not need to feel like a numbers game or a moral imperative.

2. Please don’t drastically increase fiber intake overnight. Your digestive system needs time to adjust. Suddenly doubling or tripling your fiber can lead to uncomfortable bloating, gas, and constipation.

3. You deserve to eat without making it about weight loss or appetite control. While fiber can help you feel fuller, feeling full isn’t the same as being fully nourished. Hunger is a signal your body sends because it needs fuel — it’s not an enemy to be conquered.

4. Using fiber to restrict or replace calories is risky. Many folks with disordered eating, especially those who are volume eaters, rely on fiber-rich foods to fill up and suppress appetite without addressing true energy needs. This pattern can perpetuate cycles of restriction under the guise of “healthy eating.”

5. Focus on foods you actually enjoy. Just because an influencer is “maxxing” their fiber with chia seeds and flax meal doesn’t mean you need to go out and do the same. Plenty of things have fiber (fruit, beans, grains, cereal), and you are free to find the foods that bring you enjoyment, ease, and satisfaction.

Some questions for reflection, if they feel helpful:

If you’re wondering whether focusing on fiber intake is helping or harming your relationship with food, here are some invitations:

• Am I eating fiber to nourish myself, or to avoid feeling hungry?

• Do I notice guilt or anxiety when eating foods lower in fiber?

• Is fiber crowding out other foods that bring me energy or joy?

• How do I respond when my body tells me it’s hungry, even if I feel “full”?

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Fiber is a nutrient worth paying attention to. But please, let’s not let it become the new protein craze — a fixation that fuels restriction, shame, and confusion.

You are more than a fiber count. You deserve to eat enough, to eat joyfully, and to have a peaceful, kind, and autonomous relationship with food and your body.

In a world that profits from our obsession with optimization and control, choosing nourishment and freedom is an act of radical self-compassion.

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