When Weight Stigma Gets a Rebrand

I’ve worked in eating disorder treatment for over two decades. I’ve walked alongside people through the slow, courageous process of unraveling the belief that their bodies are problems to be fixed. I’ve supported the unlearning of internalized weight stigma, the reclaiming of pleasure in eating, and the rebuilding of trust in hunger, fullness, and dignity.

Which makes it all the more jarring to witness this cultural moment—where the hard-won work of body liberation is being quietly unraveled. Where conversations once rooted in self-compassion are now being overshadowed by a familiar and painful fixation:

Ozempic. Or Wegovy. Or Mounjaro. GLP-1 medications originally developed for managing diabetes, now repurposed and rebranded as fast-tracked solutions to weight loss.

And not just for people in larger bodies. It’s being discussed across all body sizes, in all communities, with a breathless kind of urgency. The before-and-after photos. The influencer testimonials. The medical endorsements. The messaging: "If you can get smaller, why wouldn’t you?"

From a clinical lens, it’s clear this isn’t just about medication. It’s about meaning. It’s about the fantasy—the fantasy that if we could just change our bodies, we could finally feel safe. Visible. In control. Worthy. Only now, that fantasy comes dressed in clinical respectability. It’s prescribed. Normalized. Even celebrated. Which makes it harder for people to resist—and harder to talk about what they’re giving up in the process.

In many conversations I’ve had with colleagues, trainees, and professionals across disciplines, a common thread has emerged: People are grappling. They’re questioning. They’re wondering if their commitment to weight-inclusive care is still relevant in this new era of “medicalized” weight loss.

They’re hearing from folks in recovery spaces who feel suddenly destabilized. People who have worked hard to embrace intuitive eating and body neutrality are now being flooded with self-doubt. Others feel ashamed for being curious about these medications—or ashamed for not wanting to pursue them in a world where weight loss is increasingly seen as a moral or medical imperative.

This is what happens when weight stigma gets a rebrand.

As someone grounded in a Health at Every Size (HAES) framework, I believe that health is not determined by body size and that all people deserve respectful, evidence-based care, regardless of their weight. HAES, as defined by the Association for Size Diversity and Health (ASDAH), promotes “compassionate self-care, respectful care, and inclusive health practices” that support physical, emotional, and social well-being without a weight-normative focus.

It’s not inherently wrong to take a medication. There may be valid reasons someone chooses to pursue a GLP-1 agonist. People have autonomy, and every body has its own story. But we cannot ignore the broader cultural context in which these choices are being made—a context steeped in fatphobia, weight bias in medical care, and the fantasy of control.

And we cannot ignore the fallout.

What I’m hearing and observing is not just rapid weight loss—it’s rapid identity loss. People no longer sure how to eat. Meals that once held meaning now feel clinical or joyless. Hunger, once trusted, is now feared or forgotten. Some report feeling emotionally numb, socially withdrawn, or hyper-focused on maintaining their new size. Others feel disoriented by the praise they’re receiving, unsure whether it’s admiration or conditional acceptance.

For those who don’t take the medication, there’s a growing sense of alienation. A fear of being left behind. A grief that their hard-earned peace with food and body may now be seen as a failure of will or ambition. This isn’t just about individual choices—it’s about a cultural moment that’s undermining decades of progress in body liberation work.

It’s important to say, especially for those in larger bodies: Your body is not a mistake. You do not need to justify your size. You do not need to pursue weight loss in order to be respected, loved, or cared for. You deserve healthcare that sees your full humanity—not just your BMI.

And if you’re feeling shaken by all of this, you’re not alone. Many people—clients, clinicians, caregivers—are trying to make sense of this new landscape. There’s grief, confusion, curiosity, fear. These are real and valid responses to a culture that continues to send contradictory and harmful messages about what it means to be well.

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Healing in this moment might not look like confidently rejecting everything. It might look like pausing. Reflecting. Returning to what you know about yourself, your values, your body. Asking:

• What kind of freedom am I really after?
• What kind of care do I actually need?
• What does liberation—not just weight loss—look like for me?

We know from research that long-term weight loss is not typically sustainable and that weight cycling is associated with worse health outcomes over time. We also know that internalized weight stigma, not weight alone, can contribute significantly to poor health outcomes.

As a field, we must continue to hold the line: to support body diversity, to resist weight stigma, and to create spaces where people can explore these questions with honesty and support, free from coercion or shame.

Because weight loss might offer a kind of relief—but it is not the same thing as healing.

And healing is what people truly deserve.