When I asked real people why they post their workouts online, I received well over a hundred replies, many of them filled with venting about body image issues and unattainable beauty standards. That’s didn’t surprise me. What did surprise me was that the majority of these responses came from men.
Carefully measured chicken and rice, obsessive tracking of macros, the guilt when a workout is missed: On social media, these behaviors are framed in the language of performance and strength. The same rituals that would be clear indications of disordered behavior for women are redefined as “discipline” and “optimization” for men. How many men suffer in silence because eating disorders are coded as a women’s issue? How many cases go unrecognized when they’re framed as “clean eating” or “serious training”? When eating disorders and body dysmorphia get rebranded as “fitness goals,” a lot of men are left struggling in plain sight.
Men can have eating disorders, too
Boys and men now make up about a third of those diagnosed with eating disorders, and that figure likely understates the crisis. In particular, muscle dysmorphia—sometimes called “bigorexia“—is characterized by excessive and compulsive exercise, a persistent belief that one is insufficiently muscular, and an obsession with muscle mass, size, and leanness.
Unfortunately, much of fitness culture allows men to engage in disordered behaviors by wrapping them in performance language. “Bulking” and “shredding” cycles can mask seriously problematic eating patterns. Without giving certain men in my life an armchair diagnosis, I can confidently say I’ve seen the mental fallout when someone’s extreme caloric restriction becomes “cutting” or compulsive exercise becomes “staying on track.”
Unsurprisingly, social media amplifies these harmful messages. Mason Boudrye, who describes himself as “someone known to post gratuitous thirst traps,” shared with me the mental fallout of always trying to look a certain way. “Even if people don’t admit that the obsessive tracking and strict adherence to diet qualifies as disordered eating, I know it’s true for me,” he says. The social media of it all makes these feelings even more public and persistent.
We all scroll through feeds of chemically enhanced physiques presented as natural and achievable. This naturally breeds more self-scrutiny, more comparison, more perceived inadequacy. Matthew Singer, a yoga teacher, says most “fitspo” (fitness inspiration) “is as helpful for fitness as previous winning lottery numbers are for winning millions. Fitspo cannot take into account genetics, job and family circumstances, health history, or any of the other countless factors that influence health outcomes.” Our bodies are treated like projects always in need of correction, devoid of much-needed context.
What’s most troubling to me is the way men don’t get to call out disordered behaviors by name. There is both a misconception around who eating disorders affect, and a deep reluctance among affected men to seek help for a problem they’ve been socialized to handle alone. Society has constructed a masculine ideal that equates vulnerability with weakness, making it nearly impossible for some men to admit they’re struggling with their relationship to food and their bodies.
Unattainable beauty standards stay unattainable
Botox injections in men may get called “Brotox,” but a cheeky nickname shouldn’t shroud the fact that unattainable beauty standards are leading men to take more extreme measures. Dr. Claudia Kim of New Look New Life Cosmetic Surgery says she’s seen a rise in men turning to beauty treatments: jawline contouring, under-eye correction, hair restoration, skin rejuvenation. “These approaches offer noticeable yet discreet results with little downtime,” says Kim, fitting neatly into lives that were never supposed to include these concerns.
What’s telling, Kim adds, is that her male patients are usually entering the aesthetic realm for the first time. In this sense, men are catching up to beauty regimens women have been undertaking for generations, and slowly learning what women have long understood: Namely, that appearance affects professional success, social capital, and romantic prospects—and the goalposts are always moving. At the same time, the masculine ideal demands stoic self-sufficiency, even as it requires costly and constant aesthetic labor.
What does all this mean for the average person with an average budget? The treatments Kim describes—jawline contouring, hair restoration, aesthetic procedures—aren’t cheap. Nor are supplements, meal prep services, personal trainers, specialized equipment, and so on. Beauty standards increasingly require you to spend more money, meaning your appearance is yet another health arena where class determines outcomes. And if they can’t afford to look the way they feel pressured to look, men are uniquely left behind to suffer in silence.
As a woman, I’ve spent most of my life jealous of how men were allowed to age, or gain weight, or simply be in their bodies without constant intervention. Now I have a more sympathetic gaze, especially after hearing so many men admit they were never given the language to articulate aesthetic concerns without shame.
The bottom line
There’s a big difference between healthy self-care and the sense that your body is never good enough. Meticulously tracking every calorie, every rep, every perceived flaw—why should one woman’s obvious eating disorder be another man’s enviable achievement?
Women have been battling body image issues and unattainable beauty standards since birth, but a lot of men were never taught how to fight this particular war. To me, the takeaway is that we all need to be on the same side. To fight this war, we need a more honest conversation about what we’re doing to men’s relationships with their bodies. Until we acknowledge that, all this talk of “cutting” and “discipline” will allow dangerous behaviors to keep hiding in plain sight.
