I deleted TikTok from my phone the other night. Yes. In the middle of the night.
At 2 AM I was lying in my bed scrolling through increasingly worrying videos that were starting to affect me in some serious ways. TikTok’s algorithm was a weapon with the sole intention of opening up old wounds and watching me bleed out. Except the algorithm has no intention. No feelings. No goals other than keeping you watching.
The story of why it affected me so much started a long time ago. When I was a kid.
My mom had been fighting with her weight most of her life. And due to being overweight, she felt bad about herself. Don’t get me wrong, I feel her. Most of the time I absolutely hate my body, being morbidly obese. But she became obsessed.
If you grew up around Boomers and Gen Xers, you know what kind of casual body commentary they are likely to provide. They sprinkle in little comments about how Aunt Susan has really let herself go after having her babies or how Meaghan down the block has lost so much weight and just looks fantastic right now, “she better stay off the carbs!” (Insert obnoxious “I’m serious” laughter here).
My mom was no exception. She would compliment people on losing weight and also had a comment when people gained weight. And then I started gaining weight as an 8-year-old little girl. I think she was scared that I would have to go through what she had gone through her whole life. And I would.
But then the comments started.
“You have to dress it off.” Meaning I had to wear darker colors and nothing tight. Hide your fatness so the world doesn’t judge you. Like people become blind as soon as you put on a dress with an empire waist.
But it wasn’t just mom. I lost some weight after a summer being out and about and when I got to school in the fall the teachers complimented me and told me I looked good. This taught me that:
Skinny = compliments.
Skinny = prettier.
Skinny = better.
So said the magazines. So said the adults in my life. So said my mom. In not as many words.
There is also a moment from when I was around 13 years old and my older sister, who was a big fitness buff, was giving me tips on exercising. Afterwards we were looking at old pictures and came across one from when I was seven years old. She didn’t say “aww you looked so cute!” or “Wow, look how little you were.”
What she said was: “You used to be so skinny.”
When I was seven years old.
All of the comments, my already messed up relationship with food, the media environment, the bullying in school that I haven’t really gotten into yet. It all accumulated into You Are Not Enough.
And so began my journey. Puberty also brought insulin resistance and PCOS into the equation, so I gained weight very easily and losing it was a very slow process. So obviously, the only solution was to starve myself. I found online groups and the internet phenomenon of “Pro Ana” and “Pro Mia.” Twitter was a scary place back then. It probably still is.
I would compete with myself to see how long I could go without a single calorie. Not even zero cal soda would pass my lips. Only water. And I started exercising.
I began losing weight and the adults in my life were so impressed. I looked so good. The boys were bullying me less. I felt more confident. I wasn’t skinny by any means, but I was smaller than before.
Then I got caught. They started noticing that I wasn’t eating. They started whispering when I went to the bathroom after meals. Sometimes they even followed me. Behind my back, they talked about how I was doing all this for attention.
Of course I was. The only way I knew how to get positive attention was a) to do well in school and b) be skinny. I had only been successful at one of those things so far.
But they had the audacity to tell me that I was the one that was messed up for doing what I did. I was the one that was in the wrong. For trying everything I could to please them in the only way I knew how. They TOLD me how I should look to be good enough. And then they chastised me for trying to do exactly that.
Mom was mad at me for not eating her food.
My friends, my beautiful, pretty, skinny friends, sneered at me for being attention-seeking and unhealthy.
The teachers who once complimented me now looked at me with sadness in their eyes.
It’s been years and I still haven’t been able to undo that damage. I don’t know if I ever will.
But when I started this health journey a few weeks ago, TikTok started showing me some videos of healthy recipes, weight loss tips, and exercises to do. I watched them and saved them and liked them, indicating to TikTok that this is what I want to see more of.
But they don’t even need the interactions to see what you’re into. They see if you stop for a fraction of a second longer on one video than another. They see if you scroll but then scroll back.
So when I started seeing videos of “What I Eat In A Day” in a calorie deficit, I was interested.
But then it wasn’t a deficit anymore. It was tiny, skinny girls logging 500 calories throughout their days, creating videos of their “fear foods” and “safe foods.” They had their SW, CW, and GW in their bios.
So when I logged my own calories the next day I thought… Well, four digits is a bit much, isn’t it?
A couple of days later, MyFitnessPal wouldn’t show me my 5-week predictions because I wasn’t logging enough calories. It thrilled me.
And then, one day, it was 2 AM and I was scrolling through these videos, planning what I was going to eat the next day. Or not eat.
I finally had a moment of clarity and before it disappeared I deleted the app.
It’s been a while and I haven’t downloaded it again. I’ve been scrolling insta reels instead (gotta get my fix), and so far it’s mostly been the Irwin family and unlikely animal friendships. Not that Instagram can’t do the exact same things if given enough time and attention.
I consider myself to be a sufficient critical thinker. But I got caught in the trap. And so can you.
I thought I was teaching TikTok what I liked. But it was also teaching me what to want.
– Luc
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