Why The Weight Loss Backlash Against Women Needs To Stop

I was pissed.

Then I got reflective.

Then furious.

Why do we feel entitled to comment on a stranger’s body? Would we do this to a man? Try naming the last time a male celebrity’s weight loss—or gain—was treated as headline news. Go ahead. I’ll wait.

Women’s Bodies: A National Obsession

In the big celebrity hype about weight loss for 2019, Prevention Magazine showcased “40 Celebrities Weight Loss” stories to inspire and encourage us to follow suit. Seventy-five percent of those highlighted were women. Really? Are there that many more overweight women than men? I doubt it.

We aren’t just more scrutinized. We’re the ones put on display. The ones expected to explain, justify, or apologize for the size and shape of our bodies. When women change their bodies, the world reacts. When men do, no one notices.

And it’s not just celebrities. Every woman I know has a story. Maybe it’s the coworker who made a “compliment” feel like a trap. The friend who turned weight loss into a competitive sport. Or the stranger at the grocery store who couldn’t resist giving unsolicited advice.

We’ve been conditioned to think that a woman’s body is open to public commentary. Praise it, shame it, question it. It’s all fair game—until we decide it’s not.

JLo and Shakira danced their asses off at the Super Bowl, and instead of celebration, they got backlash for daring to look hot over 40.

We digest, celebrate, and condemn women’s bodies like they’re a buffet. And that’s the real problem. The backlash isn’t about health. It’s about control.

Health, COVID, and Owning My Choices

Here’s where it gets even messier. We’re in a global health crisis. COVID disproportionately affects people with chronic illnesses, many of which are lifestyle-related, like heart disease and Type 2 diabetes.

Let me be clear. I’m not pointing fingers. Genetics play a role. So do eating disorders and emotional trauma. I’m not here to speak for everyone. I’m here to speak for me.

From age 52 to 54, I gained 15 pounds. For my 5’2” frame, that’s a 12.5 percent increase. No one said a word. If I brought it up, people rushed to reassure me:

“You look great.”

“I didn’t even notice.”

Cool. But I felt terrible. Sluggish. Uncomfortable in my skin. My closet turned into a museum exhibit. Nothing touched, nothing worn unless it stretched.

What Actually Helped

Turns out, hormones were a major culprit. I was estrogen dominant and lacking progesterone and testosterone. A hormonal cocktail for midsection bloat and low energy. I chose to try BHRT, bio-identical hormone replacement therapy, and it helped.

But hormones weren’t the only fix. I also had to rethink food. Exercise alone wasn’t cutting it. After trial and error, I found what works for me. That’s the key: for me.

And you know what?

No one’s writing headlines about my weight loss.

No comment sections. No think pieces.

It’s quiet. And it’s mine.

Still, I see other women post before-and-after shots and brace themselves for the backlash. Someone will accuse them of selling out, of conforming to patriarchal standards, of betraying body positivity. When did taking care of yourself become a crime?

You don’t owe anyone an explanation for your weight gain—or your weight loss. That space between judgment and self-awareness? That’s where the real work lives.

Ending The Weight Loss Backlash Against Women: 

If you want to affirm my choices, great. If not, also fine. Because my health isn’t up for debate. My weight loss doesn’t threaten your journey. It doesn’t need your praise or your permission.

This isn’t about Adele. Or me. Or any one woman. It’s about the double standard we keep feeding. It’s time to cut off the supply.

And maybe next time a woman dares to feel better in her skin, the internet will sit the hell down and let her.

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