Ranging from the formal frameworks of gender studies and sociology to the definitions found in psychology, sexology, and even colloquial usage, sexual currency can be most inclusively defined as a metaphorical "dollar" derived from one's body, actions, sensuality, and mind to enhance perceived sexual or romantic attractiveness in a materialistic society. While metaphorical, this currency both reflects and reinforces society. By examining the controversial use of Ozempic, this essay explores how beauty standards perpetuate inequality and interrogates the moral narratives shaping body image in modern society.[1]
Ozempic: Medicalized Sexual Currency
Semaglutide, marketed as Ozempic, mimics a hormone called glucagon-like peptide-1 (GLP-1), regulating blood sugar and slowing gastric emptying. This results in prolonged feelings of fullness, reduced appetite, and ultimately weight loss. Ozempic came to help as the drug was claimed to help people feel “full sooner and longer,” reducing the effect of dopamine released while eating.[2]
Pens of Ozempic
Research published in 2020 by The British Psychological Studies revealed that there is a tighter connection between childhood trauma, body image shame, and perfectionism. The theme of perfectionism is suggested to be a complexity of pathways from needing goals to have a perfect life, including a perfect body and Anorexia Nervosa being something they could be perfect at.
“But one area where they felt they could be perfect was with their eating.”[3]
With the aetiology and maintenance of eating disorders explained, this research pinpoints what triggers patients’ restraints on food consumption. Ozempic came to be the perfect cure: working on an area of the brain involved in impulse control and decision-making, Ozempic is designed to help eating disorder patients who could not cut their appetite to better control and less impulsiveness around food.[2]
As of 2022, approximately 3.28 million individuals in the United States were prescribed semaglutide medications, including Ozempic. Globally, the exact number of Ozempic users is not specified, but the combined sales of semaglutide products like Ozempic, Rybelsus, and Wegovy reached about $21.1 billion in 2022, indicating widespread usage.[4]
The Moral Dilemmas of Thinness and Fatphobia
Despite its effectiveness, Ozempic has sparked intense moral debates. “Most Canadians should expect to pay somewhere between $200 to $300 a month for Ozempic, as insurance may not cover it."[5] This has led to a class distinction hierarchy: “only for the wealthy,” said journalist Rachel Shin.[6]
This introduces major moral dilemmas of which stealing from those who need it–reinforcing class hierarchy, and conflicting with the body positivity movement.
A quantitative-conducted article analyzing TikTok videos engagement posted under the Hashtag #Ozempic, published in 2023, highlights how TikTok trends and its users consciously neglected Ozempic's original purpose as a diabetes treatment. Positive content showcasing weight loss gains the most interactions, while posts addressing its intended medical use and/or criticizing its misuse receive minimal engagement.[7]
The Witch Hunt: Celebrities and Personal Guilt
The Witch Hunt Goes From Celebrities...
The societal obsession with thinness has evolved into a hyper-scrutinized landscape where the use of weight-loss aids like Ozempic is shrouded in stigma.
“Female celebrities act as a 'mirror' to the pressures that women face more broadly in a patriarchal society,” [8]
“Did they or didn’t they Ozempic?”[9] became a modern witch hunt that reflects a broader societal discomfort with shortcuts to perceived perfection.
Oprah Winfrey, a veteran of the weight-loss discourse, recently addressed this phenomenon, advocating for an end to the “shaming and blaming” during a TV special after revealing her own experience with weight-loss medication.[10]
This suspicion reflects not just a critique of methods but also a deeply ingrained cultural belief in the moral virtue of hard work and self-control, especially when it comes to body image. Ozempic, with its rapid and dramatic results, challenges these narratives by offering an accessible path to a body standard long defined by laborious efforts.[1]
Milly Williamson[11], a senior lecturer at Goldsmiths University in London stated,
“Being a woman is an impossible role. She’s supposed to be naturally beautiful, but actually physically is no more 'naturally' beautiful than a man, so she has to work at creating herself —and can also be shamed and derided for doing so.”[8]
Excerpted from Barbie addressing the struggles of being a women went viralOprah Winfrey, the globally acclaimed host, and a "veteran" of the weight-loss discourse
...to Ourselves?
The celebrity witch hunt is a microcosm of broader societal dynamics, reflecting and amplifying the stigmas we carry. It not only targets public figures but also perpetuates silence and shame among everyday individuals using Ozempic or similar interventions. The judgment surrounding these choices reinforces fatphobia, framing weight loss as both a personal responsibility and a moral failing when achieved through "unnatural" means.[1]
Helen Lewis, writing for The Atlantic, explores the complex realities of Ozempic use, highlighting the stories of overweight patients who feel liberated from relentless thoughts about food. An anonymous user described the stark contrast in public reception:
“When the drug is used for diabetes, no one objects. The moment weight loss becomes the goal, everyone has an opinion, and it’s overwhelmingly hostile.”[12]
This contradiction reflects our conflicted feelings about body standards, as noted by an article published in Torstar Syndication Services. It frames the public backlash as a catharsis—a way of processing our own internalized fatphobia.[13] Similarly, Sue Jackson and Tiina Vares’ research in their article, Perfect Skin, Pretty Skinny: Girls' Embodied Identities and Post-Feminist Popular Culture[14], illustrates the early onset of these pressures. Their interviews with girls aged 11 to 13 revealed a “sense of hopelessness” about achieving the idealized appearance. The participants were neither unaware nor uneducated about the harm of chasing thinness, yet they internalized these ideals, often blaming themselves for falling short.[14]
Jackson and Vares draw on Angela McRobbie’s (2009) concept of “illegible rage”[15]—a suppressed anger that manifests as self-directed harm, endless dieting, or disordered eating. This rage stems from broader patriarchal structures, intersecting with gendered, racial, economic, and moral hierarchies.[15] As Gard (2009) notes, the result is a cycle of self-blame and moral judgment that reinforces fatphobia and diminishes self-esteem.[1]
In today’s climate, these pressures collide with a paradox. Body positivity movements have fostered awareness and critique of diet culture, yet the privilege of thinness remains deeply entrenched. Fatphobia persists, not just in subtle social interactions but in blatant societal rewards for weight loss. Many users of weight-loss drugs testify to newfound kindness from strangers:
“Doors are held open for you; service workers are more attentive; fast-food cashiers don’t roll their eyes at your order,” as observed in The Washington Post.[16]
How we feel about our own bodies profoundly shapes how we judge others. The root of the root of the problem is that our culture ties women’s power to their appearance and sexual appeal. This creates a competitive dynamic, where women are conditioned to view each other as threats rather than allies.
"Women don’t want to be seen as enemies of body positivity,” which only intensifies the shame around openly discussing weight-loss interventions.[17]
In allowing fatphobia to fester within ourselves, we perpetuate a culture that values appearances over well-being, pits women against one another, and reinforces the very standards we claim to critique. Until we address these deep-seated contradictions, the cycle of judgment, shame, and silence will continue, consuming us from within.
The game did not start with Ozempic, unfortunately.
A woman suffers wearing a tight corset
The first medicalized currency is not Ozempic but the corset[19]. Understanding the difficulty of being “the skinniest” for different biologically inherited factors, corsets were promoted with the endorsement of physicians, not merely as fashion accessories but also as tools for health, posture, and discipline, with advocates claiming they supported the spine and internal organs to promote well-being.[20]
Corsets then became symbols of elegance and status, embraced by many women as empowering fashion statements. Several promotions were made, with The Saint Paul Daily Globe stating:
“There is not a single fashionable woman who does not wear a corset. Some of the slender young debutantes affect the picturesque princess bodice, with the whalebones inserted in every seam.”[21]
With waists becoming the central focus, the 19th century witnessed a high demand for corsets among women, with mothers tasked with ensuring their daughters wore them.[22]
Criticisms arose, and the public was aware of them. By the late 19th century, movements for dress reform gained traction, with advocates urging women to reject corsets in favor of more natural and comfortable clothing, reflecting broader debates over health, freedom, and gender equality.[23] Nonetheless, many women endured physical discomfort to conform to cultural beauty standards, thus enhancing their competitive standing in social and romantic markets—a tactic to be “outstanding” and “expensive.”[24]
Perhaps this can be explained through our nature of rivalry? Extending beyond overt domains like sports or business to the social arena of physical attractiveness, rooted in the competitive relational schema—rivalry drives individuals to compare themselves against others in valued domains, motivating actions to gain an edge.[25] To be competitive in the sex economy.
The Question Is, Why Thinness?
Being thin is perhaps the shortcut to power in the economy of sex. While cultural and religious contexts may vary, thinness is now a sharpie marker of Westernized social and aesthetic value, often associated with status and desirability. However, thinness supremacy is not merely about sexual or aesthetic preference—it is the result of kyriarchal structures that reinforce racial hierarchies, class divisions, patriarchal control, and neoliberal desires masquerading as intuitive sexual attraction. This phenomenon reveals an unsettling truth: societal bigotries find their strongest footholds in the realms of sex and money, two of humanity's most primal and manipulable drives.
“Civilized people will always treat two things with ‘inconsistency, prudishness and hypocrisy’: money and sex.”[26]
The Prototype of Wealth
Thinness, therefore, serves as a proxy for wealth, class, and desirability in modern society. Sabrina Strings notes that fatphobia is deeply tied to elitism, as the wealthy have greater access to fitness facilities, nutritious foods, and health resources.[27] Conversely, obesity disproportionately affects impoverished communities due to the prevalence of energy-dense, affordable foods.[28]
As Jung’s research on beauty ideals in China illustrates, perceptions of body size have reversed with societal wealth. “In the past, a skinny body meant poor, but now fat means poor,” observed one participant, linking thinness to access to gyms, dieticians, and other privileges of affluence.[29] Therefore, the health concerns that body dysphoria reinforces are in fact, an implication of elitism.
Symbolic Racism Behind Fatphobia: The Roots of Thinness Supremacy
Beauty, like the economy, has shifted dramatically across historical eras. Before the Industrial Revolution, larger bodies symbolized wealth, health, and abundance, reflecting access to food in times of scarcity. However, industrialization transformed these perceptions: thinness emerged as a marker of self-discipline, moral superiority, and productivity, while larger bodies became associated with poverty, lack of control, and overconsumption.[30] This shift, while influenced by economic changes, is deeply rooted in systemic racism.
During slavery, food was weaponized as a means of control and dehumanization. Denying enslaved individuals food reinforced power hierarchies, while systemic hunger was used to punish and degrade.[31] Abolitionist Frederick Douglass captured this reality, describing slavery as:
Famine during Slavery
"a condition of starvation, causing us to eat our own flesh."[32]
White intellectuals like Joseph Arthur de Gobineau used pseudoscientific racial hierarchies to characterize Black people as gluttonous and animalistic. Gobineau’s claim that Black individuals ate "furiously and to excess"[33] contrasted their supposed lack of restraint with the discipline of white Europeans, further embedding thinness as a racial and moral ideal.[33]
This hierarchy extended within white societies, where Aryans were viewed as the pinnacle of human achievement, while Mediterranean and Slavic peoples were deemed inferior due to perceived hybridity with other races.[33] Thinness became tied not only to whiteness but also to the exclusion of any “Black-like” characteristics, reinforcing racial purity as a symbol of status.
In this framework, hunger operates both as a weapon and a measure of virtue: denying food enforces power, while starving becomes a sign of moral superiority. Thinness thus transcends biology, functioning as a social currency that reinforces racial, class, and moral hierarchies.
The Female Body as a Site of Oppression
The intersection of gender compounds this legacy. Charles Darwin’s theory of sexual selection, as detailed in The Descent of Man (1871), framed women’s beauty as an evolved mechanism to attract male mates, prioritizing traits like symmetry, youth, and health as markers of reproductive fitness.[34]
Statuette of Aphrodite leaning on a pillar
Historically, larger bodies were celebrated in pre-industrial societies as symbols of abundance and privilege. Early depictions like the “Venus figurines”[35] emphasized rounded, pear-shaped forms, while Greek mythology’s Aphrodite embodied curves and fertility. However, with industrialization, thinness came to signify restraint and modernity, aligning beauty with capitalist virtues of discipline and productivity.[27]
Though the desire to be wealthy and be considered wealthy for social respect is exceptionally applied to none, the reason why reproductivity is tied to women's bodies can be, again, extracted from Darwin's ideology. In his work, Darwin claimed that men were active agents in sexual selection, choosing their mating counterparts based on physical appearance[34]
Extracting from valuable research published in the Journal of Black History, Perkins et al. discuss The Objectification Theory[36] presented by Fredrickson and Roberts (1997) as a framework for comprehending the sexual objection of the female body and its repercussions. The main idea of the theory is that through over-sexualization and regular sexual objectification, society views and constructs women's bodies as objects of sexual desire. They proposed that, despite the existence of racism-rooted fatphobia coming from both sexes, the beauty standard applies more heavily to women is the rooted objectification of women, as degradation of femininity stems from the belief that women are properties, not people.
Therefore, thinness as an intersection of racism and fatphobia uniquely targets women.[36]
Black Woman and the concept of aesthetics
By delving into the intersection of race, class, and aesthetics, the YouTuber highlights how the systemic biases that deem Black features and bodies as less desirable. This critical perspective is essential to understanding the broader implications of aesthetic elitism, as it underscores the exclusionary nature of beauty norms that privilege certain appearances over others.
For Black women, this objectification intersects with racial marginalization. Physical traits like curly hair, darker skin, and ethnic facial features have been excluded from mainstream beauty ideals, further alienating them from societal standards of femininity.[37]
Grace Kelly by Bud Fraker, 1954
Hollywood’s thin, upper-class ideal—exemplified by figures like Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn—cements this hierarchy. Despite decades passing, these archetypes remain timeless symbols[38] of attractiveness[39], praised for their whiteness, status symbolism, and slim physiques. Such beauty standards illustrate how the female body remains a site where class, race, and gender oppression intersect, perpetuating an unattainable ideal.
Conclusion
I used Ozempic as an artifact to tell a story—a story of how deeply ingrained and traumatic fatphobia is in our collective psyche. The fear of fatness and the preference for thinness have rooted themselves in our culture, shaping how we value ourselves and others. In an era where flaunting wealth has become passé, Ozempic—costly and coveted—reflects the contradictions we embody. We value thinness but shy away from openly acknowledging it as a status symbol. We claim to have moved beyond overt appearance discrimination, but the truth is, we still harbor the remnants of stereotypes that continue to consume us.
As long as discrimination against fatness exists within ourselves, we cannot escape its grasp. By refusing to speak up about our rage, directing it inward instead of outward, we perpetuate a system that thrives on our silence. We attempt to increase our "value" by losing weight, disguising covert narcissism as altruism[40]—an act that is ultimately self-destructive. This is the bad news: the cycle is fatal, feeding on our insecurities and reinforcing systemic oppression.
But there is good news. Unlearning fatphobia—whether internalized or external—goes beyond just your body. It’s not just your body that will thank you; it’s the dismantling of systemic hierarchies of race, sex, and class that will truly create space for collective liberation. Recognizing this connection is the first step toward breaking the cycle, for ourselves and for the society we inhabit.
Further Reading
Awad, Germine H.; Norwood, Carolette; Taylor, Desire S.; Martinez, Mercedes; McClain, Shannon (2015). "Beauty and Body Image Concerns Among African American College Women". Journal of Black Psychology. 41 (6): 540–564. doi:10.1177/0095798414550864.
Perkins, Tiani R.; Ward, Lucretia Monique; Jerald, Morgan C.; Cole, Elizabeth R.; Avery, Lanice R. (2023). "Revisiting Self-Objectification Among Black Women: The Importance of Eurocentric Beauty Norms". Journal of Black Psychology. 49 (6): 868–896. doi:10.1177/00957984221127842.
Fiorenza, Elisabeth Schüssler (2015). Wisdom Ways: Introducing Feminist Biblical Interpretation. Orbis Books. ISBN9781608332526.
Brody, Stuart (2004). "Slimness is Associated with Greater Intercourse and Lesser Masturbation Frequency". Journal of Sex & Marital Therapy. 30 (4): 251–261. doi:10.1080/00926230490422368.
Strings, Sabrina (2019). Fearing the Black Body: The Racial Origins of Fatphobia. New York University Press. ISBN9781479891788.
Harper, Kathryn; Choma, Becky L. (2019). "Internalized White Ideal, Skin Tone Surveillance, and Hair Surveillance Predict Skin and Hair Dissatisfaction and Skin Bleaching among African American and Indian Women". Sex Roles. 80 (11): 735–744. doi:10.1007/s11199-018-0966-9.
Malson, Helen M. (1997). Body Talk: Anorexic Bodies and the Discursive Production of Feminine Excess. Routledge. ISBN9780203135327.
Harris, Marvin (1991). Cannibals and Kings: The Origins of Cultures. Vintage Books. ISBN9780679728498.
Capodilupo, Christina M. (2015). "One Size Does Not Fit All: Using Variables Other Than the Thin Ideal to Understand Black Women's Body Image". Cultural Diversity & Ethnic Minority Psychology. 21 (2): 268–278. doi:10.1037/a0037649.
↑Richard, Kyle (Jan 27, 2023). [Laing, Sarah (2023). "Hollywood's Wild Ozempic Saga is Turning Into a Celebrity Witch Hunt". ProQuest. Retrieved 2024-12-03. "Hollywood's wild Ozempic saga is turning into a celebrity witch hunt"] Check |url= value (help). The Toronto Star (Online) Torstar Syndication Services, a Division of Toronto Star Newspapers Limited.
↑Freud, Sigmund (1913). Totem and Taboo: Resemblances between the Psychic Lives of Savages and Neurotics. Routledge.
↑ 27.027.1Strings, Sabrina (2019). Fearing the Black Body: The Racial Origins of Fat Phobia. New York University Press.
↑Rankins, Jenny; Hojjat, Maura (2006). "Obesity, Poverty, and Food Accessibility". Journal of Public Health. 25 (4).
↑Jung, Min-Ju (2018). "Female Beauty Ideals in China". Asian Cultural Studies.
↑Candrall, David P. (2020). "The Industrial Shift in Beauty Standards". Cultural Sociology Review. 882.
↑Kennedy, Randall (1997). Race, Crime, and the Law. Pantheon Books.
↑Douglass, Frederick (1855). My Bondage and My Freedom. Miller, Orton & Mulligan.
↑ 33.033.133.2Gobineau, Joseph Arthur de (1855). The Inequality of Human Races. Gallimard.
↑ 34.034.1Darwin, Charles (1981). The Descent of Man, and Selection in Relation to Sex. Princeton University Press.
↑A.J. Tripp, N.E. Schmidt, Analyzing Fertility and Attraction in the Paleolithic: The Venus Figurines, Archaeology, Ethnology and Anthropology of Eurasia, Volume 41, Issue 2, 2013, Pages 54-60, ISSN 1563-0110, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.aeae.2013.11.005
↑ 36.036.1Fredrickson, Barbara L.; Roberts, Tomi-Ann (1997). "Objectification Theory: Toward Understanding Women's Lived Experiences and Mental Health Risks". Psychology of Women Quarterly. 21 (2): 173–206.
↑Perkins, T. R., Ward, L. M., Jerald, M. C., Cole, E. R., & Avery, L. R. (2023). Revisiting self-objectification among black women: The importance of eurocentric beauty norms. Journal of Black Psychology, 49(6), 868-896. https://doi.org/10.1177/00957984221127842
↑Brown, Chiara (Wednesday February 01 2023). "Grace Kelly Beauty Times Luxury". The Times. Retrieved Dec 3 2024. Check date values in: |access-date=, |date= (help)
↑Translated by Content Engine LLC. 'Anti-Hero': Taylor Swift's New Song about Self-Loathing. ContentEngine LLC, a Florida limited liability company, Miami, 2022.
Author's bio
My name is Lam, a summer lover who despises winter with all my heart. As a (wannabe) scholar of ethics and human rights, I explore the intersections of societal beauty norms, gender stereotypes, and systemic inequalities. My academic focus is sociology, delving into how oppressive constructs persist in shaping individual lives and societal expectations. However, my own choices, such as my secretive use of Ozempic for weight loss, reveal the contradictions between my beliefs and the consuming pressures of validation and unattainable beauty standards.
This paradox reflects a broader societal struggle: we are consumed by stereotypes, allow ourselves to be consumed, and consume others in turn—a relentless cycle that I aim to dissect. Inspired by Michael Kimmel’s critique of “objectivity” and the silencing of marginalized voices, my work examines the tension between progressive advocacy and complicity in oppressive practices.
Dieting and restrictive eating, I’ve come to understand, are not merely about idolizing thinness. They are rooted in the remnants of patriarchy and neoliberal ideals of self-worth. Acknowledging this oppression, even when intangible, is a lifelong journey of unlearning and self-compassion. The patriarchal machine hasn’t been destroyed; it’s just no longer visible. Peeling back the layers, working on ourselves, and unlearning these internalized beliefs is a lifelong journey, one that may take generations to complete. I’ve come to accept that feeling this way—acknowledging oppression even when it’s intangible—is natural. Only recently (when I started working on this project) have I allowed myself to truly feel it.
That’s why I think we need conversations that go beyond surface-level platitudes like "respect diversity" or "every body is beautiful." Working through this frustration is a long, deeply personal process. But to begin, we must first allow ourselves to feel it.
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