There is something deeply unsettling about the phrase “skinny is back”. It makes dangerous body ideals sound like a harmless fashion cycle, as though thinness is a trend that can drift in and out with hemlines and handbags. But for many people, especially teenagers and young adults, this is not style commentary. It is a trigger. It can stir up old fears, obsessive thoughts, shame around food, body checking, over-exercising, and the quiet but very real belief that smaller automatically means better.
Recent concern around trends such as “SkinnyTok” shows this is not hypothetical. Across Europe, regulators have raised concerns about extreme-thinness content being pushed towards young users, and the wider design of social media platforms — particularly highly personalised algorithms — has come under increasing scrutiny for amplifying harmful content and reinforcing appearance-based ideals. What once existed in magazines and celebrity culture now sits in young people’s pockets, constant, personalised, and difficult to escape.
For anyone who lived through the first era of “heroin chic”, thigh-gap culture, celebrity weigh-ins and magazine covers praising dramatic weight loss, the return of ultra-thinness as an aspiration feels grimly familiar. The problem is not simply that beauty standards change. The problem is that when thinness is glorified, vulnerability rises with it. It creates an environment where worth becomes entangled with appearance, and where control over food can quietly become a coping mechanism rather than a choice.
Research and clinical guidance have been warning for years that media pressure, body dissatisfaction and disordered eating are closely linked. The National Eating Disorders Association highlights that exposure to idealised body imagery can increase dissatisfaction, comparison and unhealthy eating behaviours, particularly in young people who are still forming their sense of identity and self-worth. When these messages are repeated often enough, they can begin to feel like truth.
And this is landing at a time when eating-disorder need is already far too high.
In England, NHS survey data published in 2023 found that 12.5% of 17- to 19-year-olds had an eating disorder, up from 0.8% in 2017. Among 11- to 16-year-olds, the figure was 2.6%, up from 0.5% in 2017. Rates have risen sharply in young women and have also increased in young men, highlighting that this is not confined to one group or stereotype. It is widespread, and it is growing.
That is not a small cultural ripple. That is a profound shift in young people’s mental health.
The pressure on services tells the same story. In January 2026, NHS England reported that the number of children and young people starting treatment for eating disorders had risen from 8,034 in 2019/20 to 11,174 in 2024/25, an increase of almost 40%. Behind those numbers are real people, real families, and real struggles that often begin quietly and escalate before anyone fully realises what is happening.
That matters because eating disorders are not vanity, and they are not phases. They are serious mental health conditions with psychological and physical consequences. NHS guidance is clear that eating disorders involve using control of food to cope with feelings and situations, and Beat states that anorexia has one of the highest mortality rates of any mental illness. These are not trends people simply grow out of — they are conditions that require understanding, support and, often, professional intervention.
Why “skinny is back” can be so harmful
When extreme thinness is framed as aspirational, people do not only absorb an image; they absorb a hierarchy. The message becomes subtle but powerful: disciplined is better than nourished, shrinking is better than fuelling, and worth can be measured in body size, compliments about weight loss, or control over appetite.
Even when this messaging is disguised as “wellness”, “clean eating” or “getting toned”, the underlying belief can still be rooted in fear — fear of weight gain, fear of judgement, fear of not being “enough”. It shifts the focus away from health and towards control, away from wellbeing and towards appearance.
This is why these trends can be especially dangerous for young people. Adolescence is already a time of comparison, identity-building and sensitivity to peer approval. Add algorithm-driven feeds, edited images, “what I eat in a day” videos, body-checking content and comments that praise restriction, and it becomes much harder to tell the difference between health information and harm.
Over time, what begins as curiosity or comparison can become something more rigid. Food can start to feel like something to control rather than something to enjoy. Exercise can shift from being supportive to being punitive. And thoughts around the body can become louder, more critical, and more consuming.
Warning signs to look out for in yourself
Not every concern about body image is an eating disorder. But there are signs that thinking may be becoming unhelpful or harmful.
This might show up in thoughts such as believing you will only feel better once you are thinner, feeling as though food needs to be earned, or becoming overly focused on body shape and weight. It can also show up in behaviours such as restricting food, avoiding meals with others, creating rigid food rules, exercising to compensate for eating, or feeling anxious, low or preoccupied around food and appearance.
A helpful question to pause on is this: is this about health, or is this about fear?
Health tends to feel flexible, balanced and sustainable. Fear tends to feel rigid, pressurised and never quite satisfied, no matter what is achieved.
Warning signs in someone else
Sometimes the signs are subtle before they become more visible. A friend, child, colleague or partner might begin to change their relationship with food or their body. They may become more withdrawn, more anxious around meals, more critical of their appearance, or more focused on exercise and control.
They might avoid eating socially, hide their body in looser clothing, or seem more tired, irritable or isolated than usual. These changes are not always easy to spot, and they do not always fit a stereotype.
Eating disorders can affect anyone — regardless of age, gender or body size.
So what can we do instead of chasing “skinny”?
We need to get much better at separating health from thinness.
Being healthy is not the same as being small. Health is about nourishment, sleep, energy, hormones, mood, strength, flexibility and connection. It is about having a relationship with food that is not driven by fear or control.
A healthier reframe is not about giving up on wellbeing — it is about redefining it. It might look like focusing on strength instead of size, energy instead of restriction, and consistency instead of extremes. It might mean learning to listen to the body rather than override it.
For someone noticing their thinking becoming more rigid, small changes can begin to shift perspective. Reducing exposure to triggering content, creating more balanced routines around food, choosing movement that supports rather than punishes, and gently challenging negative self-talk can all make a difference over time.
If you are worried about yourself
One of the most important things to remember is that you do not need to wait until things feel “serious enough” to seek support.
Eating disorders often minimise themselves. The internal voice may suggest that things are under control or not severe enough to matter. That is often part of the difficulty.
Speaking to someone you trust, reaching out to a GP, or asking for support early can make a significant difference. These conditions are treatable, and the earlier support is accessed, the better the outcomes tend to be.
If you are worried about someone else
Approaching someone about eating or body image can feel challenging. It is natural to worry about saying the wrong thing or pushing someone away. But saying nothing can leave someone feeling alone with something that thrives in silence.
A gentle, non-judgemental approach is often the most helpful. Expressing concern, focusing on how the person is feeling rather than how they look, and letting them know they are not alone can open the door to conversation.
They may not be ready to talk straight away, and that is okay. What matters is keeping that door open.
The bigger picture
Thinness is not a moral achievement. Bodies are not trends. Young people should not have to grow up in a culture that markets self-erasure as discipline and calls it aspiration.
Yes, parents are right to feel concerned. Yes, social media can amplify harm. Yes, eating disorders are rising.
But recovery is possible. Support exists. And conversations like this matter.
Because the answer to “skinny is back” should not be acceptance. It should be awareness, compassion, and a shift towards something healthier, more sustainable, and more human.