I see we’re still doing that thing where we look at someone in a swimsuit and pretend we’ve accessed their full medical history and most recent blood panel.
This time our “patient” is singer and model Yumi Nu, who appears on one of Sports Illustrated’s four new swimsuit issue covers. She looks gorgeous and remarkably comfortable, in both her skin and her swimsuit. But you can’t see her ribs. And her stomach isn’t concave. And her curves don’t look like a surgeon placed them there, all of which upsets the delicate balance of people’s fantasy universe.
Doug Polk, a professional poker player, tweeted his thoughts on Nu’s cover to his 156,000 followers.
“I understand we want to focus more on positive body image, especially in a time where people are more critical of themselves than ever (primarily from social media),” Polk wrote, “but putting obese people on the cover of sports illustrated [sic] sends a horrible message about health and well being.”
He continued: “Being obese is a choice, and it will harm your quality of life significantly. It will make your life more difficult physically day to day, and will have long term health impacts on your body. This is not healthy and it isn't beautiful.”
Jordan Peterson, a self-help author/clinical psychologist/wildly popular YouTube star, tweeted a photo of Nu’s cover with his commentary: “Sorry. Not beautiful. And no amount of authoritarian tolerance is going to change that.” (He left Twitter when the backlash rained down.)
Their thoughts were echoed — and, importantly, denounced — by thousands, illustrating a couple of truths.
One, Sports Illustrated knows how to keep a gimmick as musty and schlocky as an annual swimsuit issue from falling off the cultural radar.
Two, the addiction to an extremely narrow set of beauty standards, which leans heavily on conflating thinness with healthfulness, still has a powerful foothold in this same culture.
Remember when Jillian Michaels, personal trainer, former host of NBC’s “The Biggest Loser” and pusher of diet supplements that were at the center of multiple lawsuits, went after Lizzo?
“Why are we celebrating her body?” Michaels asked on BuzzFeed’s morning news show, in a now-infamous segment. “’Cause it isn’t going to be awesome if she gets diabetes. … I love her music. My kid loves her music. But there’s never a moment where I’m like, ‘I’m so glad that she’s overweight.’”
(We’re celebrating both, Jill. It’s not hard.)
It’s obviously misleading to diagnose a person’s diabetes risk simply by looking at them. Lizzo’s blood sugar may be perfectly fine, and a person much smaller than her may have dangerously high levels. Same goes for cholesterol and blood pressure and triglycerides. Her ability to dance and run and sing and play flute simultaneously on stage (in heels) implies a level of physical fitness I’ll never know.
Similarly, Polk has no idea what will or won’t make Nu’s life more difficult, physically, nor does he know her long-term health outlook. He looked at a photo of her.
But her health isn’t the point. Lizzo’s health, Ashley Graham’s health (a former Sports Illustrated cover model whose curves caused similar waves), the public’s health — it’s never the point of these rants. The ranters aren’t actually talking about health. They’re talking about looks.
You don’t see online provocateurs and former reality show hosts worrying whether cover models and pop stars wear seat belts or bike helmets or sunscreen or live around secondhand smoke or adhere to annual mammogram recommendations. The only risk factors they feel called to weigh in on are the ones that thinly veil their tedious body shaming.
If public health was truly their concern, they’d read the room.
The rate of eating disorders had risen by 119% in kids under 12 during the last decade, according to Eating Recovery Center. The number of teen girls going to the emergency room for eating disorders nearly doubled during the pandemic, according to Centers for Disease Control and Prevention data. The National Eating Disorders Association reported a 58% increase in calls and texts from March 2020 to October 2021. Eating disorders remain the deadliest psychiatric disorder, with an estimated mortality rate of about 10% for people with anorexia nervosa.
We’re fooling ourselves if we think our kids don’t notice — and internalize — the temper tantrums that ensue whenever conventional, narrow definitions of body ideals are challenged. The tweets and comments and talk show quips all get stirred into the toxic waters our kids swim in, reminding them that their bodies better look one certain way or be deemed shameful, not healthy, not beautiful, certainly not worthy of celebration.
Talk about unhealthy.
I applaud Sports Illustrated for nudging us toward a more inclusive approach to beauty and a broader definition of healthy, even if a desire to sell magazines lies at the heart of their mission.
If those covers get us even a few steps closer to a time where we regard all bodies as worth celebrating — for their power, for the way they allow us run or paint or cartwheel or write, for their housing of our hearts, for the memories they hold and make — then I say the ends justify the means.
