Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande recently attended the European Premiere of “Wicked: For Good” at Cineworld London Leicester Square on November 10, 2025, in London, England. As they graced the red carpet together, they were admired for their talent, beauty, and confidence. However, their presence also brought attention to a disturbing trend that is sweeping through the media and society.
Every time I see Ariana Grande on the red carpet or in interviews lately, I feel a mix of fear and anger. Not towards her, her beautiful spirit, breathtaking voice, or her right to move through the world in the body she chooses. But at what she has come to symbolize.
Extreme thinness is back, and it is being packaged as aspiration. Grande and Cynthia Erivo, alongside other celebrities with ultra-thin bodies, are being glamorized and showcased in the media. The message being sent is that being thin equals success, beauty, and worth. And Grande is often positioned as one of the main faces to be celebrated.
Despite some criticism, this message is being drowned out by the mega-promotion machine that celebrates these figures and plaster them everywhere with great fanfare. And this is happening at the same time when weight-loss drugs like Ozempic and Wegovy have become omnipresent.
These drugs are now so widespread and easily obtained that people are using them without even medically qualifying for them. Not for diabetes or any health-related problems, but solely to chase the unrealistic and unhealthy goal of extreme thinness that is glorified on every magazine cover, press tour, and social media post.
This dangerous trend of pharmaceutical shrinking is not just about calling out celebrities or body shaming. It is about the unspoken message it is sending to society – that when it comes to health, thinner is always better. And it is not just frustrating, it is dangerous.
As someone who has struggled with an eating disorder for over 30 years, this is a danger I know all too well.
When I was a teenager, my mother constantly told me, “If you only lost weight, you could be beautiful.” She equated thinness with a woman’s worth, and she believed it would grant her access to power, success, and opportunities.
One particular incident that stands out in my mind is when a popular girl in my high school freshmen class turned to me and asked how much I weighed. Being desperate to fit in, I answered her without hesitation, “About 130 pounds.” Her response was, “Oh my God, I would kill myself if I ever weighed that much.”
Her words confirmed what my mother had drilled into me – that the most important thing to be was thin. This was the 1980s, the era of low-fat everything, Slim Fast, and Jane Fonda workout tapes. No one was talking about mental health or eating disorders. And instead of motivating me, this made me feel there was something wrong with me, that I was unworthy and unlovable the way I was.
So, when I was 15, I went into the bathroom one afternoon, locked the door, and pushed my fingers down my throat. It was the start of a secret life I carried for the next 30 years – of compulsive binging and purging, painful highs and crashing lows, and hiding behind locked doors and running showers to muffle the sound of my actions. I looked into that bathroom mirror and saw a version of myself I hated.
But the new thinness cult is not just limited to the red carpets; it is everywhere. It is on TikTok, in classrooms, and in text threads between friends. It is shaping how young people define health, beauty, and morality. And as a result, eating disorders are on the rise, especially among young girls, with treatment centers seeing a dramatic spike in patients.
I do not know the personal stories, health journeys, or reasons of these celebrities. But this goes beyond their individual choices about beauty; it is about systems, money, and power. The global beauty industry is worth $450 billion, while the weight-loss market is worth $163 billion. This industry thrives when we hate ourselves enough to keep spending.
My anger is directed at the cultural shift that is pushing people, especially young impressionable minds, towards disordered eating, mental health crises, and lifelong shame.
By the time I was in my 40s, I had found a
