When Celebrities Shrink: GLP-1s, Grief, and the Cost of Weight Loss in the Media

Because this conversation is bigger than one celebrity—and bigger than weight loss.

“Our beliefs about bodies disproportionately impact those whose race, gender, sexual orientation, ability, and age deviate from our default notions.

The further from the default, the greater the impact. We are all affected— but not equally.”

― Sonya Renee Taylor, The Body Is Not an Apology: The Power of Radical Self-Love

I didn’t plan on writing this week — we’re enjoying a brief but very nourishing staycation. But several days ago, the internet lit up with headlines: Serena Williams announced she’s using GLP-1s for weight loss.

My DMs filled with links, screenshots, and emoji reactions that ranged from heartbreak to fury to resignation. Sad faces. Eye rolls. Angry tears. Underneath it all, I think the word is grief.

I’m not going to dissect Serena here. Not because it isn’t worth talking about, but because one woman doesn’t deserve to be held up as the symbol of an entire cultural mess. More importantly, I am a white woman with immense privilege, and the connection between diet culture and racism is one that cannot be ignored.

As Dr. Sabrina Strings wrote in her book Fearing the Black Body, “the current anti-fat bias in the United States and in much of the West was not born in the medical field. Racial scientific literature since at least the eighteenth century has claimed that fatness was ‘savage’ and ‘black.’”

From Chrissy King’s post on Instagram

And in response to the Serena media hype, my friend Chrissy King spoke with brilliance and sharpness about the roots of fatness in anti-Blackness — and why that matters when Serena Williams chooses to take GLP-1s. I highly recommend watching that video, and supporting her work on Substack.

So, what am I writing about then?

The bigger, zoomed-out picture of how this body shaming (and, equally, the celebrating) impacts us. And more specifically, some reflections that I hope can meet you wherever you are.

Because a few weeks ago, in my membership group, the topic of our monthly session just happened to be about celebrities, GLP-1s, and weight loss in the media.

The conversation was real, messy, funny, painful—all of it. People brought their anger, their disappointment, their fear, their grief. And together, we tried to make sense of what it means to live in this constant swirl of body commentary, shrinking, and “health journey” narratives that are often just anti-fat bias in new packaging.

What stayed with me most wasn’t the answers—we didn’t leave with neat resolutions—but the honesty. The way people admitted how hard it is to hold both compassion for individuals and accountability for harmful systems. The way grief and anger sat side by side, making space for each other.

That’s what I want to offer you here: not another hot take, but a gentle invitation.

To pause. To feel what this moment stirs up in you. To notice how much of that weight you’re carrying belongs to you, and how much was placed on your shoulders by a culture that insists thinner is always better.

Because if there’s one thing I know, it’s this: you were never the problem. The system was. The system is. And together, we can keep imagining—and fighting for—something different.

Here are some of the threads we pulled on together in that group session:

---

• What is the social cost of the GLP-1 obsession?
  Beyond the very real physical side effects, there’s a cultural cost. Every time a celebrity shrinks, the world applauds. Opportunities expand, visibility increases, and thinness is framed yet again as the ultimate marker of success. Meanwhile, people in larger bodies are further marginalized, left to absorb the message that they are somehow “less than.” And when kids grow up watching every role model shrink, they learn that smaller is always better, no matter the cost. The message seeps in: thinness equals success, visibility, and love. That’s not a neutral backdrop—it shapes self-worth from the ground up.

• Is this actually about health?
  Weight loss is consistently wrapped in the language of “wellness,” but the dangers rarely make the headlines. Malnutrition, muscle loss, declining bone density, disordered eating, intense digestive issues, and the psychological toll of chronic restriction aren’t glamorous. Yet they are the shadow side of a system that sells shrinking as salvation. The media is splashy about GLP-1s being quick “miracles,” but quieter about the reality*. These drugs work by suppressing appetite, slowing digestion, and altering hormones involved in blood sugar regulation. When a body is denied adequate nourishment in the name of weight loss, health is compromised, not gained.

• Can personal weight loss ever exist in a vacuum?
  Even when we insist our choice is private, it reverberates outward. In a culture steeped in anti-fatness, the pursuit of weight loss reinforces body hierarchies and sends implicit messages about who is worthy, lovable, or successful. No matter the intent, those ripples are felt.

• How does weight loss in the media affect our mental health?
  The constant barrage of transformation stories isn’t harmless. It can stir up old food rules, fuel comparison, and reignite shame. Protecting our peace takes active resistance: muting, curating our feeds, and surrounding ourselves with voices that remind us we are enough as we are.

• Where do grief and accountability belong? Beneath the frustration many of us feel is grief—grief over what can feel like betrayal as we watch someone we admire uphold harmful beauty ideals, grief for the parts of ourselves still vulnerable to diet culture’s pull. And while it’s tempting to place blame on individuals, accountability must be directed at the larger systems that profit from our shame and dissatisfaction. Because the truth is, if thinness wasn’t upheld as the cultural ideal, people wouldn’t pursue it so relentlessly. The desire itself is shaped by a system that teaches us thin equals worthy, desirable, and safe.

• What about when a doctor suggests GLP-1s for weight loss?
  Medical authority carries power, and stigma in the exam room is real. Saying no can feel impossible. This is why self-advocacy is a skill we keep building—whether that means asking about non-weight-focused options, bringing a support person, or simply remembering that declining treatment is always within our rights.

• What does it mean to lean into nuance?
  This is the hardest piece. “Your body, your choice” is vital. But choices don’t exist in isolation—they are shaped by stigma, systemic bias, and capitalism. Recognizing this doesn’t mean shaming individuals; it means zooming out to see the bigger picture of influence and power. It requires walking a line that honors autonomy—recognizing that living in a body is hard, especially at the intersections of multiple marginalizations—while also holding compassion for ourselves and others who are harmed by weight loss marketing. It means naming systemic forces while still respecting people’s humanity.

---

I am sharing these with you today, not because I have answers, but because I believe in the power of asking ourselves the right kind of questions. It tends to create a map that brings us closer to our values, and further from the noise of our cultural conditioning.

This is what we’re taught “success” looks like. And not in a small way. In a big, life-preoccupying, world-shifting, energy-stealing, health-anxiety-inducing, hunger-praising way. And yes, that ideal is rooted in whiteness.

Because the reality is, this isn’t about GLP-1s. It’s about diet culture’s talent for shapeshifting, and how every time it does, we’re asked to grieve the same thing: the dream of a world where bodies aren’t currency. A world where access to healthcare, safety, love, and respect aren’t tethered to weight, race, ability, gender, or money.

And sometimes, that grief takes the form of people we’ve followed and rooted for over the years making a choice that causes us pain—not because they’re “villains,” but because they’re navigating the same oppressive systems we are.

This is what most girls are taught—that we should be slender and small. We should not take up space. We should be seen and not heard, and if we are seen, we should be pleasing to men, acceptable to society. And most women know this, that we are supposed to disappear, but it’s something that needs to be said, loudly, over and over again, so that we can resist surrendering to what is expected of us.

— Roxane Gay, Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body

If you’re feeling angry, sad, confused, disappointed, relieved…you’re not broken. You’re simply human, moving through a culture that keeps asking us to trade our wholeness for smallness. When a headline like the Serena Williams one lands, it can feel like another punch to the gut — a reminder of how relentless this cycle is. Repackaged, rebranded, but always rooted in control.

And yet, we don’t have to face it alone. Finding spaces where we can name the grief, untangle the shame, and breathe together is one of the ways we resist. Every time I leave a session with my group membership* (you’re always welcome to apply to join us), I feel a little more anchored in myself and a little less weighed down by the noise. We need one another, now more than ever.

So tell me — how are you holding up? What helps you protect your heart from the endless body shaming in the media? Where do you find the nuance that keeps you grounded?

---

PS: Please don’t forget to hit the “heart” button and share this if you found it supportive — it helps the Substack algorithm. I know, I know. But really, it matters. So, thank you!

* I am speaking specifically to the use of GLP-1s for weight loss, not for their medical purposes, such as diabetes management.

* Group Membership Details: Can be found right here.

---

Here are some related episodes and writing for those who want more context:

• Dr. Whitney Trotter on disordered eating in BIPOC and athletes

• Chrissy King on body liberation, racism, and diet culture

• Dr. Rachel Millner on GLP-1s and eating disorders

• Ragen Chastain on the truth about fatness and health outcomes

• Jessica Wilson on anti-fatness, anti-Blackness, and the whiteness of wellness

• All the feelings that can come up when someone close to you loses weight

• Why suppressing our appetite is not the path to health we’ve been promised

---