Behind the Ring Light: The Cost of Viral Beauty

The first time I downloaded TikTok, I was aghast at the amount of "What I Eat in A Day" videos I saw, pure panic on my face as influencers obliviously posted "slim-fast tea" that "burns belly fat in 14 days". I wasn't sure if I had opened a social media app or accidentally stumbled into a dystopian infomercial.

The truly astonishing part? These influencers are fast-tracked into becoming role models for millions- idolised by fresh, impressionable minds. With a ring light, a pout and a promo code, they hold immense power. But if you think that's the only problem, oh no- buckle up.

To make matters worse, celebrities now parade their "natural bodies" like trophies, casually name-dropping 10kg weight loss plans as though cutting carbs and surviving on 900 calories a day is the epitome of wellness. Sounds fulfilling, doesn't it? Didn't think so.

So far, we have established that TikTok is a breeding ground for baffling behaviour.

But beyond the chaos lies a deeper, darker issue- unrealistic beauty standards disguised as "health" content. Sure, some health professionals are using TikTok to promote actual science-backed advice (hallelujah), but they're buried by an avalanche of creators glorifying skeletal physiques. It's #Thinspo 2.0, but with filters, trending sounds and 2 billion views. With tags like #thinspiration, #proana and #weightlosscheck dominating the algorithm, it's no surprise that TikTok has become the epicenter of body dismorphia. Now, you'd assume TikTok would be scrambling to clean up this mess, right? Wrong. According to them, "Content that promotes eating habits likely to cause health issues is not allowed." Sounds promising. They even claim to support body-positive creators and eating disorder recovery content. And yet... #thinspiration still thrives. Still trends. Still tempts.

But while TikTok's execs are patting themselves on the back, real people are at the receiving end. Real people are crying in front of mirrors, pinching invisible "flaws", googling "how to lose thigh fat in a week" at 2 a.m. These aren't the filtered, choreographed moments influencers post they're the raw, painful consequences.

Let's be clear: this isn't toxic. It's treacherous.

So, to all the so-called "influencers" out there, please do us all a favour: we're not asking you to film yourself eating a slice of chocolate cake or showing a stretch mark- we get it, baby steps- but please use your platform for something real.