Can we all just agree Selena Gomez is a gorgeous fucking angel?
Not only am I a Wizards of Waverley Place day one fan girl, now obsessed with Only Murders in the Building, but I’m a huge admirer of anyone brave enough to be vulnerable about their health struggles and who turns that into a mission to help others. It can’t be easy to speak up about lupus on a platform so huge, or to be honest about the daily nuances of bipolar disorder.
Unfortunately, enough morons exist in the world to understand a few will pipe up with misinformation or criticism when you’re speaking to millions. But Selena speaks up anyway. Seemingly, because she sees it can benefit others, and wants to enact that change in the world.
Love it. Love her.
But a couple of weeks ago, Gomez felt compelled to address body shamers during a TikTok Live. She explained how the medications used to control her lupus made her gain weight at times, and on the flip side, how disease progression could cause weight loss. Either way, it seems everyone on the internet has an opinion about how her body should look and why. And every autoimmune girlie screamed: AMEN.
Ah, the dreaded prednisolone. A drug which has recently re-entered my life in a six-week tapering dose. A drug which, once again, has me scrutinising my face in the mirror for signs of bloating, checking my upper back for spider veins, and massaging my neck to avoid the infamous buffalo hump.
It’s a damning snapshot of society when we can find ourselves more concerned with aesthetic side effects of a medication than the positive impacts that can save lives. From surgery prevention, to organ preservation, to simply restoring some quality of life, prednisolone, although not ideal, can feel nothing short of miraculous.
At the heart of our shame sits fatphobia. It certainly seems that way.
We see it medicine, when women are turned away from doctors who refuse to hear their concerns until they lose a couple of stone.
We see it on television, where women are poked and prodded, reduced to “apples” or “pears” or whatever other fruit can be perceived as insulting.
We see in the office, where colleagues shrink at the sight of a donut, and exclaim loudly, “why are you trying to make me fat?”.
I do it myself. I’m trying to rectify that.
Health and nutrition are paramount to our lives. But that looks different for everyone, and certainly can’t be judged on a scale.
Recently, this has also played out in reverse i.e. women are taking a medication they don’t need, in order to get thinner. An injectable drug used to manage glucose levels in those with type two diabetes has been shown to cause weight loss, and so, because of the media’s demented obsession with reliving the glory-less days of “heroin chic” and eating disorder exaltation, women are resorting to these measures once again. This, despite serious side effects, such as thyroid tumours, organ inflammation, and changes in vision.
It brings us back to the same place: risking our health to achieve a fleetingly fashionable look.
Repeat the mantra with me:
My body is not a trend.
My body is not a trend.
My body is not a trend.
The need to be smaller is so ingrained in our culture, that choosing to push back is an act of rebellion. But there’s very little reward for doing so. And when we do get pulled into diet culture, we’re punished in equal measure, and labelled as shallow or problematic.
For me, prednisolone brings with it its own brand of trauma. It’s hard to look in the mirror and see a stranger’s face looking back. It’s hard to associate that face with illness. It’s hard to resist the need for a medication because accepting it has come to feel like defeat, and that defeat looks like moon face and thinner hair. I’ve found myself explaining my appearance on numerous occasions, apprehending the questions or less-than-subtle observations.
But why should I have to? Why should anyone?
Illness aside, weight fluctuations are normal. Autoimmune or not, our shape changes throughout our cycle. We carry water, we bloat, we retain swelling. Fluctuations are so normal, they’re actually boring.
I’m bored even having to write about this. I’m actually getting a stress headache from rolling my eyes so much.
That being said, how should we respond? Should Selena have addressed the critics? Should we ever engage with body-shaming trolls? Is doing so lowering ourselves to their standards, or do we have a duty to educate?
Unsurprisingly, there isn’t one answer. I certainly don’t have it, and how you handle your conflicts is none of my business.
Yes, there is value to Selena responding to media commentary. Some followers are genuinely ignorant. They didn’t know about her medication before, and now they do. In that sense, knowledge has been gained, and awareness has been spread.
However, a person should never feel backed into a corner to explain their body. It should fall on the rest of us to do better. Before commenting, or passing judgment, online, out loud, or in your head, take a moment to counter it. Consider the multitude of possible reasons for their physical change. Ask yourself why you even care. Give them the same grace you’d want to receive.
Finally, remind yourself it’s not of your business, deconstruct the systems that pit us against our mirrors and scales, pull back your shoulders, and strut around with a bit more kindness.