Have GLP-1 Medications Become a Beauty Product?

There was a time when changing your appearance meant buying a new lipstick, changing your hairstyle, or perhaps investing in a new wardrobe.

Today, for a growing number of women and girls, it may mean taking a medication.

GLP-1 medications were developed to treat medical conditions, including type 2 diabetes, and some are approved for the treatment of obesity. For individuals for whom these medications are medically indicated, they can be important and effective treatments.

That is not the conversation I am concerned about. I am concerned about what happens when a medication stops being discussed primarily as a medical treatment and begins functioning culturally as something very different:

A beauty product.

When Thinness Becomes Something You Can Buy

We have always lived with appearance ideals. Women have long been sold products promising smoother skin, younger faces, thicker hair, whiter teeth, and countless other ways to become a supposedly “better” version of themselves.

But weight has historically been somewhat different.

You could diet. You could exercise. You could buy programs, powders, supplements, and plans. But there was still an understanding—however misguided—that bodies came in different shapes and sizes and that there were limits to how much control we actually had over them.

GLP-1 medications may be changing that perception.

Increasingly, the message women and girls are absorbing is not simply:

You should be thin.

It is:

You could be thinner. And now there is something you can take to make that happen.

That distinction matters enormously.

Because once thinness feels readily attainable, living in a body that doesn't conform to the current ideal can begin to look less like normal human diversity and more like a choice.

Why wouldn't she take it?

Why doesn't she want to lose weight?

If everyone else is getting thinner, why isn't she?

And there is another layer to this that concerns me deeply: What happens to the girl who doesn't want to take a medication—or can't?

If changing your body is increasingly presented as something available to you, choosing not to do it can begin to feel like a personal failure. A girl may wonder why she isn't willing to do what seemingly everyone else is doing. She may feel that she has somehow failed to be disciplined enough, motivated enough, or invested enough in her appearance.

The pressure is no longer only I wish my body looked different.

It can become: There is something I could be doing about my body, and I'm failing because I'm not doing it.

That is an extraordinarily heavy message for a young person to carry.

And suddenly, the range of bodies we consider acceptable becomes even narrower.

Our Girls Are Watching

Perhaps the most concerning part of this cultural shift is what it communicates to our daughters.

Girls notice.

They notice when adults lose significant amounts of weight.

They hear the conversations about who is “on the shot.”

They hear admiration for someone's dramatically smaller body.

They hear women discussing medications, doses, pounds lost, clothing sizes, and how little they are able to eat.

And they notice which bodies receive compliments.

Even when no one says directly, Your body should look like this, the message can be remarkably clear.

Smaller is better. And if your body isn't naturally smaller, you should consider changing it.

For a generation of girls already growing up surrounded by unprecedented appearance pressure, this adds an entirely new dimension.

What Happens to Body Acceptance?

For years, those of us working in body image and eating disorder prevention have tried to teach young people that healthy bodies naturally come in different shapes and sizes.

We have encouraged girls to move away from seeing their bodies primarily as ornaments to be evaluated and toward appreciating them as instruments that allow them to live meaningful lives.

We have taught them that self-worth cannot be measured by a number on a scale or the size printed inside their clothing.

But those messages become much harder to internalize when the culture around them is communicating something else entirely.

What does “accept your body” mean when everyone around you seems to be actively trying to make theirs smaller?

What does body diversity mean when medication makes it seem as though diversity itself is optional?

What does a girl conclude when a body that looked like hers six months ago is now being celebrated because it became significantly smaller?

These are questions we need to be willing to ask.

This Is Not an Argument Against Medication

It is important to be very clear about this.

GLP-1 medications are medications. There are people who benefit significantly from them, and decisions about whether someone should take one belong between an individual and a qualified medical provider.

We should not stigmatize people for using them.

But respecting legitimate medical treatment does not require us to ignore the cultural phenomenon developing around these medications.

A medication can be medically valuable and have unintended social consequences.

Both can be true.

The concern is not simply that people are taking GLP-1s.

The concern is that we may be normalizing the idea that changing the size of a healthy body is simply another form of appearance maintenance.

Hair. Nails. Botox. Skin care. Weight-loss medication.

When those things begin occupying the same cultural category, we should pay attention.

The Conversation We Need Instead

We cannot control every message our daughters encounter.

But we can control the conversations happening in our homes, schools, and communities.

We can stop treating weight loss as automatically worthy of praise.

We can resist asking people how they lost weight.

We can avoid discussing medications, diets, pounds, and clothing sizes as casual social conversation—particularly around children and adolescents.

And if we ourselves are taking a GLP-1 medication for medical reasons, we need to think carefully about the story our children hear about that decision.

Our daughters may see our bodies changing. They may hear other people compliment us. They may notice that we are eating differently. And if we don't provide context, they will create their own.

We can tell them, in an age-appropriate way, that this is a medication our doctor recommended because of a health concern. We can talk about the health benefit we are trying to achieve rather than celebrating the change in our appearance. And when other people compliment our weight loss, we can be thoughtful about how we respond—especially when our children are listening.

Because there is a tremendous difference between a child hearing:

“I'm taking a medication that my doctor and I decided is helpful for my health.”

and hearing:

“Look how much weight I've lost. I finally look so much better.”

Our children are learning not only from the choices we make, but from the meaning we attach to those choices.

We can remind our daughters that bodies are supposed to be different.

And perhaps most importantly, we can model something increasingly countercultural:

A body does not need to be continually improved in order to deserve care, respect, nourishment, and gratitude.

Our bodies are not projects.

Their job is not to meet the aesthetic expectations of the moment.

They are the vehicles through which we learn, love, give, connect, perform mitzvos, care for others, and fulfill our unique purpose in this world.

There may be very good medical reasons for someone to take a GLP-1 medication.

But when a prescription medication begins to feel like something women are expected to use simply because a smaller body is available to them, we have crossed into very different territory.

And if GLP-1 medications are becoming our newest beauty product, perhaps the most important question isn't what they are doing to our bodies.

It's what that message is doing to the way our daughters see theirs.