Every day, we hop on our phones and peer through perfectly curated windows into strangers’ lives, receiving one perception of a creator’s life and comparing our own lives to what they say life should look like. Then you resent yourself: I should be eating 10k calories. I should be working out eight days a week. I should do all this bullshit to my body.
In recent months, the trend of “looksmaxxing” has conquered social media. An influx of teenagers and young adults have flocked to the dumbbells. Adolescent athletes, previously determined to boost performance, now spend days and nights at the gym perfecting their looks instead of their performance.
My story aligns with this typical gym-goer. I admit that my decisions, from my fashion to my everyday activities, are heavily influenced by social media. I began going to the gym regularly during the summer and attempted to “glow up” before the start of my freshman year. I hopped on creatine, a compound that helps boost performance and accelerate muscle growth, and hit the gym five days a week. I said no to hanging out with friends, fearing it would hinder my gym progress.
I began comparing my efforts to those around me — I wanted to “catch up” with my friends who had been lifting much longer than I had. The pressure became inescapable as my social media feed began to populate with these looksmaxxing fitness influencers. I was constantly given unrealistic rubrics to compare against, causing me to develop body dysmorphia.
This online content infects viewers with body dysmorphia, causing them to constantly compare themselves to people they view online, twisting their perception of beauty and the visual markers of health. The resulting gym climate traps young men into destructive cycles, where aesthetics become inextricably linked to self-worth.
The desire to improve one’s physique isn’t new; it has existed long before the rise of “looksmaxxing.” Obsession has become the norm, and social media is flooded with videos chastising viewers for not grinding relentlessly as if self-worth is measured by how much pain or exhaustion one can endure.
This disordered pattern of thinking poses a threat to mental health, potentially leading to feelings of depression and low self-esteem. Fitness influencers who look like “Greek gods” who flex their bulging biceps, concrete abs and rock-hard pecs also sometimes suffer from similar disorders. This culture is incredibly toxic, which can be harmful to beginners starting out in the gym.
Social media is transmitting a fitness lifestyle that isn’t sustainable, instilling body dysmorphia among a young and impressionable generation of gym-goers. The gym becomes the center of their lifestyle. When one scrolls through Instagram, TikTok or any fitness influencer’s page, they are greeted with endless media of shredded — and inevitably edited — physiques.
This constant exposure to idealized bodies sends a dangerous message: if you don’t look like this, you’re not doing enough. If your body doesn’t resemble theirs, you could always be doing more. It doesn’t help that most influencers are using their social media platforms to market their products, implying to viewers that with the purchase of a specific powder, they can achieve a similar physique.
The hard pill to swallow is that one’s body is unique and will not look identical to those online, and that’s okay. Going to the gym should be an activity that helps you grow healthier and more confident. Comparing yourself to others will lead to a dead end.
The solution? Discover what motivates your gym visits. Is it to look chiseled? Does skipping a workout fill you with guilt? If you find yourself consumed by these feelings, finding it harder to set realistic goals and enjoy progress, take a break from viewing fitness content on social media. Notice how your mindset shifts when you’re not bombarded with unrealistic standards. Create goals that are more meaningful and measurable, such as increasing strength or endurance.
The gym is a place for personal growth and confidence. You are worth more than the number on the scale at your feet, the weight you can bench and the figure you see in front of the mirror.
Vir Patwardhan PZ ’28 is from the Bay Area. When he’s not at the gym, he discovers solace in playing classics on his acoustic guitar, writing romantic poetry and binge-watching Netflix shows.
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