Body positivity — where did it come from?
Body positivity didn't grow on Instagram. This movement has roots deeper than most people realise.
The 1960s and 70s: the Fat Acceptance Movement in the United States — a civil rights movement fighting discrimination against overweight people in employment, healthcare and public life. It wasn't about aesthetics. It was about human rights.
The 1990s: the movement expanded to include people with disabilities, scars and skin conditions. It was about visibility — the right to exist in public space without apologising for how you look.
2012–2016: Instagram took over the narrative. This is where problems started. Body positivity became a trend — a hashtag, an advertising campaign, a sales tool. Fashion brands that had spent years promoting size 34 suddenly discovered that "every body is beautiful" — as long as it buys their products.
2020–2026: Backlash and evolution. More and more people — including psychologists, activists and the movement's own founders — started saying that the Instagram version of body positivity had become toxically positive. Because forcing someone to "love their body" is a form of pressure too — just from the other side.
Body neutrality — a healthier alternative?
Writer and therapist Anne Poirier proposed the term body neutrality in 2015: you don't have to love your body. You don't have to hate it either. You can simply live in it.
This approach says: your body is a tool that lets you function in the world. You don't have to wake up and recite affirmations in front of the mirror. You don't have to feel euphoric at your reflection. Not feeling hostility is enough.
"I'm doing this for myself" — truth, excuse, or both?
This line comes up in every discussion about aesthetic treatments. It deserves honest examination, because the line between autonomy and pressure is thinner than it seems.
Most often? It's usually both. And that's fine. We live in a culture that bombards us with images of "perfect" faces and bodies thousands of times a day. Being completely immune to these messages isn't possible. Realising that your decision is PARTLY shaped by culture doesn't make it wrong — it makes it human.
Aesthetic treatments as a form of self-care
You go to the gym — nobody asks whether you're doing it "for yourself" or "under pressure". You eat healthily — nobody questions whether that's autonomy. You dress the way you like — nobody accuses you of following trends blindly. But walk into an aesthetics salon, and suddenly you have to justify yourself.
Aesthetic treatments can be a form of self-care, just like exercise, healthy eating or meditation. On one condition: they serve your wellbeing, rather than respond to pain.
- A hydrating treatment after a stressful month — self-care.
- A facial massage as a relaxation ritual — self-care.
- A chemical peel because you want smoother skin — self-care.
- Lip filler "because everyone has it" and "I'm not pretty without it" — that's a different conversation.
BDD — when aesthetics becomes an obsession
Body Dysmorphic Disorder (BDD) is a mental health condition in which a person becomes obsessively focused on perceived flaws in their appearance — flaws that are invisible or minimal to everyone else.
- BDD affects an estimated 1.7–2.9% of the population (WHO data).
- A significant proportion of aesthetic medicine clinic patients may meet the diagnostic criteria for BDD — Dermatologic Surgery study (2023).
- People with BDD are typically unsatisfied with treatment results and seek further procedures, in an endless cycle.
- BDD is an obsessive-compulsive disorder, not a matter of "vanity".
The salon's role — ethics over profit
An ethical aesthetics salon isn't a place that says "yes" to everyone about everything. It's a place that genuinely consults, says no when needed, educates, and normalises the decision to do nothing at all.
The feminist argument FOR treatments
Third- and fourth-wave feminism says it clearly: my body, my decision. This principle applies not only to reproduction, but to every aspect of embodiment — including decisions about aesthetic treatments.
The paradox is that some feminists criticise aesthetic treatments as "giving in to patriarchal beauty standards" — while at the same time undermining women's right to make autonomous decisions about their own bodies. It's the same logic conservatives use in other contexts: "I know better what's good for your body."
Judging women for their aesthetic decisions isn't feminism — it's paternalism.
Where's the balance?
Balance doesn't sit at a single point. It lies in an ongoing process — conscious, imperfect. It's worth asking yourself a few questions before making a decision.
- Am I making this decision from a calm place? Not after crying over a photo. Not after a friend's comment. Not at 2am, scrolling Instagram.
- Do I have realistic expectations? A treatment can improve a specific feature. It won't change your life. It won't bring a partner back. Confidence is inner work.
- Would I be okay with a subtle result? If the only acceptable outcome is a dramatic change, that's a red flag.
- Am I doing this regularly, with increasing frequency? Self-care has seasons. Compulsion doesn't take breaks.
- Has someone close to me expressed concern? They don't have to be right. But it's worth listening to them.
Both things can be true at once
- You can love your body AND want to change something about how it looks.
- You can support body positivity AND use aesthetic treatments.
- You can be a feminist AND get Botox.
- You can criticise appearance culture AND still function within it.
This isn't hypocrisy. It's the complexity of being human within a culture that holds unrealistic expectations about bodies — especially women's bodies. Denying yourself the right to that complexity is just another form of oppression.
The only thing that really matters is awareness. Knowing why you're doing this. Knowing what to expect. Knowing when to stop. And having people around you — professionals and loved ones — who will tell you the truth.