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Journalism of Courage
Until recently, I wasn’t too happy with the way I looked.
I was the new daughter-in-law in a fun, boisterous household, and food became a way to connect. My plate was always full. Feasts were cooked just for me, my husband and I indulged in frequent dinner dates, and food became the language of love.
Before the wedding, I had moved back home for a few months, where all three meals appeared, like clockwork, on the dining table. None of it was particularly unhealthy. In fact, it was healthier than skipped meals from my time living in a rented apartment. But it also meant that I went up a size. My jeans clung a little more than before. In internet troll-speak, I felt like I had “let myself go”.
For someone who has struggled with PCOS (Polycystic Ovary Syndrome) for most of her adult life, my weight and appearance have always been something to be ‘managed’. Always. Even a day of indulgence feels like I could be throwing off my body’s hormonal balance. However, this piece isn’t about PCOS and the quiet tyranny it exerts over women’s bodies. It’s about what I felt when I looked at others — a window that social media has left perennially open.
Scrolling through Instagram, I saw Kylie Jenner publicly acknowledge her cosmetic surgeries, winning praise for her candour, hailed as a “girl’s girl.” I came across another Indian influencer aged just 20 who, inspired by Jenner, confessed to a nose job. Celebrities have been dropping weight in just months, fuelling rumours of Ozempic use. Botox and fillers have found more acceptance.
There’s data to back this up. A study by the International Society of Aesthetic Plastic Surgery found that between 2020 and 2024, aesthetic procedures, both surgical and non-surgical, surged by over 40 per cent. For those aged 17 years or younger, rhinoplasty (or a nose job) was the most common procedure, while botulinum toxin (botox) was the most preferred procedure for older ages. A staggering 7.8 million botox procedures were performed in 2024 – though this was fewer than the figure in 2023.
These once-frowned-upon methods have been repackaged as empowerment. If you can’t love your body as it is, fixing it — medically, surgically — is now a form of self-love. A recent widely acclaimed film, Materialists (2025), calls these surgeries an “investment”.
When matchmaker Lucy Mason (played by Dakota Johnson) learns about the growing acceptance of height-enhancing surgeries among men, she remarks, “If you have the money, it’s worth the investment”. Later in the film we learn that her ‘love’ interest Harry Castillo (Pedro Pascal), a billionaire financier, had gotten the procedure too. He says something eerily similar to Mason’s own beliefs: “I made an investment. A body is like an apartment. You have to invest to get value back.” He doesn’t stop there. The return on investment is stated as well: “It changed our lives — with women completely… You can also tell the difference at work, restaurants, airports. You are just worth more.”
Is it ‘your choice’?
I can’t help but feel conflicted. On one hand, it is refreshing to see women (and men, though they face less scrutiny) own their choices. And of course, there is no denying that some of these procedures may be medically required. They can also help boost self-esteem and confidence (as Castillo describes in Materialists).
On the other hand, I wonder: what about those who can’t afford to medically transform themselves? Is “body positivity” evolving into something that only wealth and access can buy? And what about those who don’t want to modify themselves?
It is important to question why people undergo these procedures in the first place. Several studies have found that media portrayals can significantly influence societal attitudes about cosmetic surgeries. Individuals with lower self-esteem and life satisfaction, and those with more exposure to cosmetic surgery (on TV or other forms of media), are more likely to undergo the procedures, per a 2023 study.
The problem, however, goes beyond the moral dilemma over medical modifications. Clare Chambers, a political philosophy professor at the University of Cambridge, captures it succinctly: “When everyone feels bad about their bodies, it’s not the bodies that are the real problem. It’s the social context.”
In her book, Intact, she argues that the focus on appearances has grown with social media and its selfie culture, filters, and ‘touch-up’ apps. It’s a world where our bodies are ranked and judged, and where someone else is always prettier, skinnier or fitter. The message is most often: our bodies are not good enough.
Chambers says that while individuals have the right to change their bodies as they please, it is important to note that “our choices to modify our bodies are not made in a vacuum.” “They are made in the context of a constant barrage of messages, telling us we should feel worried about our bodies and ashamed of them,” she said in a 2022 interview with Philosophy Break. And that’s not all. She also points to the “aggressive marketing of ways to change our bodies”, whether it’s a new cosmetic procedure or product, new diets and exercise regimes, or new health practices.
Taking back control
I will admit, even I have been tempted by Internet fads or ‘challenges’ as they are called: 100-squats-a-day, 10k steps, or 16-hour fasting. But what these fads don’t take into account is that real change happens over time and requires prep. You cannot go from doing nothing to trying to walk 10,000 steps in one day.
So, I decided to listen to actual doctors. I joined the gym to take back some sense of control. The progress, admittedly, has been slow. I struggle with consistency, still learning to divide time between work, family, and myself. Friends who haven’t seen me in months point out differences, but if we are being honest, those are minute changes. In a world addicted to speed and visible transformation, my steady, sweat-soaked effort feels almost quaint. I often catch myself wondering: Am I doing something wrong? Could I ever “catch up”?
There’s a kind of madness in this modern chase, where health gets confused with aesthetics, and transformation is judged by how quickly it shows. We forget that the celebrities we envy have entire teams — trainers, chefs, surgeons, and nutritionists — behind the scenes. They are paid to look the way they do. The rest of us have day jobs, commutes, families, and fatigue.
Sometimes I imagine what it would be like if celebrities sat behind a desk for eight hours a day, hunched over a laptop, with limited time to cook or move or breathe. Maybe they, too, would struggle with bloating and low energy. Maybe they would be less likely to post gym selfies or their breakfast acai bowl if they had to catch the 7 am local.
I am not seeking pity or outrage. I am merely reflecting on beauty sold to us today, and how it often has little to do with health. What I am slowly learning is that the body I have, with all its stubbornness and slow progress, is on its own timeline — and maybe that’s okay.
