Episode Details

The internet is buzzing right now about Ariana Grande — her stepping back from public life, and her message asking people to stop commenting on her body. And underneath this whole conversation is something every one of us needs to hear, because it goes straight to the heart of recovery.

Today, with a whole lot of grace, we're talking about the word "healthy" — and how it can become one of the most slippery slopes in all of recovery. I'm not here to speculate about anyone's private health (that's actually part of my point). I'm here to name the lie our culture keeps selling us: that thinner automatically means healthier. Sis, it doesn't — and the science agrees with me.

The part she got so right

For years, Ariana has asked people to stop commenting on her body, recently re-sharing that message as a "loving reminder." And she's right. There's a comfortability in our culture with narrating other people's bodies, faces, and weight — and it's dangerous for everyone.

We have to stop this. Stop the "did she lose weight," stop the "is she okay, she looks so thin." You never know who's in recovery. You never know whose daughter is listening. You never know what your words land on top of.

Where the fire got lit in me

Somewhere in this conversation came the idea that an older, fuller version of a body wasn't "the healthy one." That may be completely true for any given person — only they and their care team could know.

But that exact sentence — "my old body wasn't the healthy one" — is a sentence I told myself. It's one I've heard from a hundred women in this community. And it's one of the most slippery sentences in recovery, because the eating disorder is a master at wearing the costume of wellness. It doesn't say "let's be destructive." It says "let's just be healthy, let's just be clean, let's just be disciplined."

When "healthy" is actually the disorder talking

Let me be clear, because I lived it:

• Eating very little and calling it clean
• Only eating foods with five ingredients or less and calling it healthy
• Cutting whole food groups and calling it a lifestyle
• Being so consumed by "wellness" that you can't sit at the family table, can't travel without a plan, can't be spontaneous, can't live

That is not health. That's a disorder in a wellness costume.

And the hardest part? When you're in it, you believe your own lie. For a long time I fully believed I was just "making healthy choices." It felt like virtue. It felt like discipline. That's what makes the distortion so dangerous — from the inside, it feels like truth.

The lie our culture keeps selling

We're in a moment where thinness is loudly