The Cutprice Guignol

Please note this article will contain explicit discussions of eating disorders and body image issues

Celebrity culture and gossip usually retreats to the same few topics – work, marriage, make-ups, break-ups. But, more than ever, the conversation around celebrities from the A to the Z-list has been focused on a stark shift in the bodies many of those celebrities happen to be living in.

The shock of seeing someone reappear in the public eye having lost a significant amount of weight, the sudden spate of emaciation and visible bones on the red carpet, the return of ultra-skinniness much like the era of heroin chic that defined the nineties and early noughties. And with that conversation has come a backlash – a widespread cultural scolding of those remarking on the bodies of these people, particularly women. And, look, I understand where that urge comes from. God knows, as women, we’re used to the background noise of ever-changing body image standards, the recurring hum of indignation about the way some part or another of our body happens to look. But when it comes to extreme thinness like the kind we have seen make such a return in pop culture in the last few years, I think it is worth talking about where they fit in the broader cultural narrative around weight.

One of the tenets of body positivity that took root in a big way across social media was the instruction not to comment on anyone’s body. And it’s one of those things that I think is useful on a broad scale, as a general statement aimed towards moving conversation away from the way someone happens to look as the most interesting thing about them. Because that scrutiny that’s so often aimed at people’s bodies, and especially the changes that their bodies go through, whether that be gaining weight, losing weight, or something else entirely, feeds in to a toxic and profoundly harmful narrative of self-surveillance to ensure that our bodies fall into the forever-shifting range of acceptability. To this day, I try not to comment on anyone’s body unprovoked, because, fundamentally, the people around me are far, far more than the way they look and I wouldn’t want them to feel any other way.

But with that said, I’ve seen this particular comment thrown around a lot recently, with regards to the recent and impossible-to-ignore spate of celebrities, influencers, and others in the public eye losing large amounts of weight and making public appearances in very, very thin bodies. And there has been something of a shitstorm brewing around these people, mainly women, as their bodies come under scrutiny from the public, much of which has been met with a reminder not to comment on anyone else’s physical appearance. Even if these people are famous, are they not subject to the same respect and dignity that the rest of us are? Even some of the celebrities in question have leaned on this as a way to deflect conversation around their shrinking bodies. Even when their careers have relied on their physical appearance as part of their social currency, don’t the same rules apply?

In a perfect world, I think the answer would be yes, because their bodies would be just that – bodies, the physical form that they happened to occupy in the public eye. But the truth is, we’re living in a world that holds up thinness, especially in women, as one of the ultimate expressions of worth and value, and the ever-whittling bodies of people in the public eye does not exist in this vacuum separate from a world that treats extreme thinness as something to be actively pursued. From social media algorithms pushing restrictive eating disorder content to the promotion of weight loss drugs intended to curb the appetite to the popular “skinny clubs” that earn thousands of dollars a month from those looking to lose weight to idols opening up about dangerous eating and exercise habits aimed at controlling their weight, we are in an era of pop culture that puts extreme thinness front and centre. The extremely thin people we see held up in celebrity culture are another piece of that narrative.

And, of course, people are within their rights to do what they want with their bodies; I’m not saying that we should be out here demanding people put on weight until they land into a normal BMI range before they step on to the red carpet. But the normalisation of this level of thinness, of emaciation so extreme that virtually every celebrity selfie turns into proto-pro-ana content, and the treatment of it as not just standard but expected and achievable sets an undeniably dangerous precedent. The health risks of being underweight are numerous and wide-ranging, and begin long before visible emaciation becomes obvious; the treatment of these bodies as normal and aspirational downplays the severe problems that come with extreme thinness. I’ve seen some argue that the same treatment should be given to celebrities who are overweight or otherwise unhealthy in some visible way, but frankly, I think that’s a pretty erroneous conclusion given that gaining weight or pursuing other unhealthy habits just doesn’t have the same cultural narrative surrounding it that weight loss does.

When is a body not just a body? When it becomes part of a wider pop cultural landscape that valorises the dogged pursuit of thinness above almost anything else. And that’s why I find this brushing-off of the growing trend of emaciation in the public eye something that misses the point of the broader narratives around weight loss and thinness that surround them. With that said, I know this is a really contentious issue, and I would be very interested to hear what you make of this particular pop cultural moment – let me know in the comments below.

If you’d like to support my blog, please consider supporting me on Patreon or dropping me a tip via my Support page. You can check out some more of my writing on eating disorders and body image here and here.