When Progress Isn’t Enough: The Hidden Rise of Body Shame and Disordered Eating

It’s tempting to believe we’ve turned a corner. Marketing campaigns now include a wider range of body types. Athletes, influencers, even fashion brands have started to embrace diversity. There are more conversations about mental health, more open talk about therapy, trauma, boundaries. But the uncomfortable truth is that underneath this outward shift, many women are still at war with their bodies—and the numbers prove it. Eating disorders are rising, especially among teens and young adults, and body shaming hasn’t exactly disappeared. It’s just changed its wardrobe.

For all the progress, we’ve walked into a new kind of pressure. It’s not just about being thin anymore. Now we’re expected to be toned but not too muscular, curvy but not “unhealthy,” accepting of ourselves but still on top of every detail. The contradictions are exhausting, and they’re taking a toll in quiet, dangerous ways.

Social media feeds are now saturated with body positivity—filtered, framed, and algorithm-approved. “Love yourself” has become a brand, which makes it even harder to admit when you don’t. And let’s be honest: a lot of this curated empowerment is still rooted in appearance. The bikini pics. The perfectly posed “no makeup” selfies. The upbeat captions about self-acceptance that somehow still involve flawless skin and flat stomachs.

For women already dealing with a complicated history around body image, it can feel like failing at the one thing that’s supposed to be liberating. Loving yourself has become another benchmark to hit, another impossible standard. And when you fall short—because of course you do—it breeds shame, just wrapped in a more insidious package.

These issues don’t live in a vacuum. They’re tangled up in outdated beauty standards, toxic online culture, and deep-seated myths about womanhood. We’re expected to look good, but not too good. To care, but not be vain. To age gracefully, but never visibly. These mixed messages are impossible to navigate, and they fuel a quiet epidemic of self-doubt that often starts shockingly young.

At the heart of many eating disorders is control—something that feels in short supply when you’re caught between the noise of online expectations and real-world pressure. For a lot of women, disordered eating starts as a way to cope. A silent strategy to feel powerful in one small corner of life, even as everything else feels messy or uncertain.

But it spirals fast. The shift from “just being healthy” to harmful restriction is subtle. It can look like skipping meals, obsessing over macros, or cutting out entire food groups under the guise of “clean eating.” And it doesn’t always come with obvious red flags. Many women suffering with eating disorders appear high-functioning. They might even be praised for their discipline. That’s what makes it so dangerous.

The good news is that help exists. The kind that actually works. But it needs to be accessible, compassionate, and tailored. That’s where residential eating disorder treatment can change lives. It’s not a spa and it’s not a quick fix. It’s real, structured, professional care in an environment designed to rebuild not just a relationship with food, but with yourself. For those in deep, it can be the first step back to living—not just surviving.

You’d think we’d be going the other direction by now. With all the progress around mental health and body image, why are eating disorders becoming more common? Part of it is that our culture rewards overachievement. Women are burning out from trying to do everything—and look good while doing it. Perfectionism, comparison, and pressure to perform online have become daily stressors. The line between “wellness” and obsession is thinner than ever.

Then there’s the pandemic aftershock. Isolation, uncertainty, financial stress—it was a perfect storm. Many women developed disordered eating during lockdowns, and those habits have been hard to shake. Loneliness plays a bigger role than we give it credit for. So does shame. And while we talk more openly about mental health now, there’s still stigma when it comes to anything that feels “uncontrolled.” Disordered eating hides behind socially acceptable trends, like intermittent fasting or fitness tracking. But the damage adds up.

Healthcare access also plays a part. Too often, women are misdiagnosed, brushed off, or only treated when things are severe. Primary care providers aren’t always trained to spot early signs of eating disorders, especially in women who don’t fit a stereotypical profile. It leaves too many people slipping through the cracks.

Knowing the signs matters. If someone you love seems withdrawn, hyper-focused on food, exercise, or their body, it’s worth paying attention. But even more important is how you respond. Shame doesn’t heal shame. You don’t need to have the perfect words. Just listen. Offer support, not advice. Avoid commenting on appearances altogether—yes, even compliments. A simple “I’m here, if you want to talk” can be more powerful than any fix-it speech.

Healing isn’t linear, and it doesn’t happen on a timeline. But it’s possible. There are therapists who specialize in eating disorders. Support groups that offer real connection. Dietitians who get it. And resources like CasaCapriRecovery.com, montenido.com or others to learn more about what treatment looks like and where to start. These tools exist for a reason—and the earlier someone gets help, the better the outcome.

The real work here isn’t just about food. It’s about identity. Worth. Safety. And the freedom to exist without constant self-monitoring. That kind of peace takes time, and it’s usually not found in an Instagram post. But it can be built—sometimes through therapy, sometimes through community, sometimes through the radical act of just eating the d--n meal.

We need to raise the next generation with more than slogans. We need to give girls permission to take up space. To feel hunger. To speak up. To rest. To stop apologizing for the size of their bodies or the volume of their opinions. That starts with us. With checking our own biases. With dropping the language that equates thinness with virtue. With remembering that food isn’t moral, and bodies aren’t proof of anything but life.

There’s no one-size-fits-all fix and thats why individual and natural medicine is growing so fast. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe the real progress comes not from perfect campaigns or filtered self-love, but from the slow, unsexy business of choosing kindness—even when no one’s watching.

We’ve come far, but we’re not finished. Behind every trending body-positive hashtag, there are still women quietly struggling. It’s not weakness. It’s not vanity. It’s pain that deserves to be met with care, not criticism. If we really want to break the cycle, we have to keep doing the work—not just perform it. That means talking about it. That means getting help when we need it. And that means making space for others to do the same.

The path forward isn’t flashy. It’s not always social-media-friendly. But it’s real. And it’s possible.