Should I stop caring about my appearance altogether?
- Jekaterina Schneider
- Jan 1
- 4 min read
I see and hear this messaging a lot, even if it's rarely phrased so directly.
Instead, it shows up in quieter ways, in questions about whether body positivity means letting go of caring about how we look, or whether focusing on appearance is somehow incompatible with self-acceptance. The implication often seems to be that if you're doing this work "properly", you should no longer care about your body in that way at all.
I don't think that's realistic. And I'm not convinced it's helpful.
Are we just changing the words?
I sometimes wonder whether many of us haven't actually let go of body image concerns, but have simply learned to rename them.
Caring about appearance has become less socially acceptable in certain spaces, particularly among people who are familiar with weight-inclusive or body positive ideas. So instead of saying I want to look thinner, we say I want to be healthier. Instead of I don't like my body at this size, we say I want to feel fitter. The desire hasn't disappeared; the language has shifted.
I don't think this is usually deliberate or deceptive. "Pretending" isn't quite the right word. It's more that we know we're not supposed to care about appearance in the same way anymore, so we soften it. We translate it into something that feels more acceptable.
Often, both things are true at once. Appearance reasons are still there, they're just no longer named.
"It's fine for others to be fat — just not me"
Another sentiment I hear often is this one: I believe it's fine for other people to be fat. I just feel best when I'm smaller.
If you recognise yourself in that, you're not alone.
On the surface, this can sound body positive. But underneath it sits an important question: why does "feeling our best" so often align with being thinner? Where did that belief come from? And how much of it is genuinely personal, rather than socially learned?
We live in a world that rewards thinness — socially, medically, professionally, and materially. Feeling more confident, more comfortable, or more "yourself" in a smaller body doesn't make you shallow. But it also doesn't mean those feelings exist outside the culture that shaped them.
We can't fully separate weight loss from society
I believe people pursue intentional weight loss for deeply personal reasons. I believe people want to feel comfortable in their bodies, to recognise themselves, to move through the world with less friction.
What I don't believe is that we can completely disengage those desires from the wider societal structures that tell us, again and again, that being fat is bad, unhealthy, unattractive, lazy, or undesirable.
When weight loss is framed purely as a health or fitness goal, it can sound neutral and rational. But that framing often hides the reality that fat bodies are stigmatised, and that stigma itself is a significant health risk. Ignoring that context doesn't make our choices more empowered; it just makes the forces shaping them harder to see.
The conversations that bother me most
Don't get me wrong, plenty of people are very direct in their dislike of fatness. But what I find more frustrating are the careful, sanitised conversations. The ones where appearance is clearly part of the story, but never quite acknowledged.
Recently, I had a conversation with a friend who admitted, plainly, that she worries about gaining weight because she cares about how she looks. No moral justification. No health-washing. Just honesty.
That doesn't make the fear healthy or harmless, but it was refreshing. It created space for a real conversation rather than a performative one. Around the holidays especially, these tensions become more visible, and it's often the "polite" conversations that feel the most exhausting.
Appearance isn't the problem, how we relate to it is
So, is caring about appearance inherently problematic? Is pursuing intentional weight loss always a sign of internalised stigma?
I don't think the answer is a simple yes or no.
The distinction that matters most to me is between adaptive and maladaptive ways of relating to appearance. Maladaptive appearance investment tends to show up when self-worth becomes tied to body size, when weight loss is framed as a moral achievement, or when fear and self-surveillance dominate how we feel in our bodies.
Adaptive appearance investment, on the other hand, can look like self-expression through clothing, hair, tattoos, or make-up; enjoying aesthetics and creativity; or wanting to feel comfortable and at home in your body without needing it to shrink.
Caring about appearance isn't the issue. Believing our value depends on meeting narrow, oppressive standards is.
A final reflection
I don't think liberation comes from pretending we don't care about how we look. I think it comes from being honest about why we care, and whose standards we're responding to.
We can acknowledge that appearance matters in this world without reinforcing the idea that thinner is better. We can hold compassion for our own desires while still questioning the systems that shaped them.
Ultimately, maybe the work isn't about stopping ourselves from caring altogether, but about loosening the grip appearance has on our sense of worth, and allowing honesty, complexity, and nuance back into the conversation.
That's all for now—thank you for being here and for making a commitment to make movement spaces more inclusive for all bodies!
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