Back in May 2023, Jemima Kirke posted an image of herself to her Instagram. Among the many comments, just a few were only one word: “Ozempic.”

“Should you motherfuckers only knew. I wish it was fucking Ozempic. How will you make such specific inferences and judgments a couple of person through their size?” Kirke replied. How can we? Easily. Crying “Ozempic!” anytime a public figure appears thinner is so common on this era of latest weight-loss drugs that it’s develop into a meme. Dozens of celebrities – from Mindy Kaling and Kim Kardashian to Jonah Hill and Lana Del Rey – have been subject to the identical accusation as Kirke.

While the specifics of the accusation could also be latest, that is just the standard inclination people have had eternally: if someone’s body changes, people need to know why, and sometimes declare that they do know why. It’s an eating disorder (Ariana Grande), it’s substance misuse (Post Malone), it’s steroids (Zac Efron, Kumail Nanjiani), it’s weight-loss surgery or ‘dodgy supplements’ (Adele). Now, though, it’s “the thin shot”. 

Much of this speculation echoes trashy tabloids and their shouty, body-dissecting headlines – it’s unhelpful at best, cruel at worst. But recently, people have began to ponder whether the response to this culture of body-shaming – never talking about people’s bodies ever – is equally as problematic. “V weird that ‘don’t speak about womens’ bodies!’ has was ‘we as a culture must ignore and talk around eating disorders, essentially pretending they don’t exist,’” Avery Edison, a content creator based in Liverpool, tweeted in response to a post suggesting Kiernan Shipka has an eating disorder. “I don’t think it’s anti-feminist to say ‘heads up, this woman is unwell and also you shouldn’t aim to appear like her.’”

Edison just isn’t the just one. Journalist Moya Lothian-McLean shared similar sentiments, tweeting: “Warped-ass culture we live in where famous women look violently thin and sick but it surely’s ‘unkind’ to notice that.” So what are the principles relating to what we are able to say about bodies? Is there space for expressions of real concern when public figures, particularly women, appear extremely thin or look unhealthy? Is it worse to remain silent and permit these bodies to be upheld as aspirational?

“I accept that declaring that a celeb seems to have an eating disorder might feel like an attack on individuals who share that disorder, or have that body type for another reason. Nevertheless it’s not,” Edison elaborates to Dazed. “After I say, ‘she looks like that because she has a terrible disease,’ I’m not attempting to harm anyone (including the celebrity, who is extremely unlikely to ever see my comment). I’m trying to stop the normalisation of that disease.”

While definitely a noble goal, is declaring a possible eating disorder in the general public square of the web the most effective option to prevent the normalisation? Emma Specter, writer of the forthcoming book, More, Please: On Food, Fat, Bingeing, Longing, and the Lust for “Enough,” says no. Though she understands “the frustration of seeing razor-thin celebrities presented in the general public eye as standard-bearers for what women are presupposed to appear like”, she doesn’t buy that calling attention to someone’s body, positively or negatively, goes to steer to healing for anyone involved.

“It is a systemic problem, not a person one, and calling people out for being too thin or battling disordered eating appears like the definition of Not It to me – speaking as a fat one who has too often needed to cope with my body being was fodder for individuals who don’t actually care about me or my well-being,” says Specter, who has written widely about Ozempic and her own body. “As my therapist once said to me, ‘Shame is never productive.’”

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Despite the intention, that’s what plenty of the unfounded speculation is: a form of shaming. It’s fundamentally different from talking to a friend or member of the family one-on-one to specific concern, or discussing the myriad forces that contribute to body-related disorders and the way we are able to counteract them. It’s simply pointing at a person and essentially saying, “Bad. Improper.”

It also could have the other of the intended effect. Amber Nelson, a copywriter from Washington, used to do freelance writing work for a celeb gossip website, and said this sort of body policing and concern trolling became her beat. “If someone does have an [eating disorder], those sorts of concern-troll comments can actually reinforce the behaviour. I used to have disordered eating, that’s how I do know,” she says. Eating disorder recovery groups just like the Eating Recovery Center in Colorado have published information supporting that notion, quoting experts who say that body comments can result in a “renewed commitment to vary the body.” 

“Most individuals don’t know in regards to the comorbidity of EDs and trauma,” continues Nelson, who says an eating disorder can sometimes be a symptom of trauma, abuse or neglect. “So the speculation about EDs, and the way that speculation is weaponised to shame female celebrities/influencers who develop into ‘too thin’ … it strikes me as pretty macabre.” It’s especially macabre if our speculation or accusations transform flawed.

That is precisely what happened with actor Chadwick Boseman, who, before he died of cancer, faced public ridicule and concern-trolling about his weight. Ashley Ray, comedian and host of the podcast TV, I Say w/Ashley Ray says people have learned nothing from Chadwick. “The sort of considering just alienates individuals who might have help with eating disorders and makes other people feel like they’ve to elucidate themselves when none of that needs to be crucial.” She also says that celebrities “offer an almost guilt-free option to judge the bodies around us,” which is an activity our society is “obsessive about.”

Turning people’s bodies into web discourse doesn’t meaningfully change hearts and minds – it only perpetuates a culture of surveillance

This obsession feels inevitable in a culture that places greater value on what someone looks like than anything. We’ve internalised that the look of the body is of the utmost importance, so we consistently judge our own and people around us. The impulse to guage celebrities is comprehensible: if you’ve spent your whole life under the thumb of a culture obsessive about beauty standards that feel unattainable to acquire, you is perhaps indignant that famous people act as in the event that they’ve stumbled into those standards without the trouble, sacrifice, or harm you’ve likely needed to endure. You would possibly not consider that it has been achieved without resorting to disordered behaviours or expensive interventions. 

But while it is perhaps comprehensible, none of it’s ultimately helpful. Turning people’s bodies or body changes into web discourse doesn’t meaningfully change hearts and minds – it only perpetuates a culture of surveillance and judgement, which has caused so many individuals body image-related issues in the primary place. Specter suggests that perhaps the most effective solution to that is one which seems unthinkable to many individuals: don’t publicly speak about anyone’s body, ever, and worry about yourself.

“Is my eating disorder going to be healed by my specific celebrity object of standom gaining or dropping pounds? Probably not,” she says. “I’m higher served to maintain attempting to fight off fatphobia and diet-culture brain wherever they show up in my very own life, fairly than litigating the finer points of other people’s physical forms.”