The first time I saw the term midsize on social media, it stopped me mid-scroll. Here was a simple seven-letter word that somehow absorbed a lifetime of conflicting emotions about my body, which often sits between so-called straight and plus sizes, and put a label on it. Midsize sounds so neutral, so matter-of-fact‚ and that’s exactly the vibe of the movement the term inspired, which also encompasses style experimentation and inspiration. It screams (albeit into the internet void): “This is my body, and I embrace it. I’m going to enjoy my wardrobe—and my life.”
Some of the midsize bodies that have come across my feed are close to resembling my own, which is more than I can say about the models I saw in store windows and magazines growing up. “Women created the midsize niche because they did not look like runway models and did not fit neatly into plus-size either, but they still wanted great fashion,” says midsize content creator Blue Jasmine. “It was about people in the middle finally being seen and feeling good about themselves.”
There’s a bit of debate over what constitutes midsize. Some say the term refers to sizes 10 to 16, while others think it covers sizes 8 to 14, and many athletic or curvy size 6s identify as midsize as well. Regardless of the exact definition, the label holds a lot of meaning for us “in-betweens” who aren’t what society typically deems either small or plus-size and who’ve long felt unseen by the fashion industry. The label also addresses the low-grade frustrations of midsize shopping—even if many of us wear straight sizes, that doesn’t always guarantee a flattering look or comfortable fit.
While we don’t have recent data on the sizes people wear in the United States, a 2016 study found that the average American woman wore a size 20. So it’s no surprise that the hashtag #midsize has clocked more than 4 billion views on TikTok. Scroll through the posts and just try to escape the rabbit hole. Watching midsize creators’ honest try-on hauls feels like being in a dressing room with a best friend, laughing over the ridiculousness of needing to do squats to see if jeans have enough give to accommodate your belly and thighs. These influencers share GRWM (Get Ready With Me) videos detailing how different brands fit, answer styling questions, and show how they customize trends for their bodies—often right down to their favorite shapewear or mega-supportive bra.
Many of them have a “zero F’s given” attitude as they tuck their apron belly into jeans or twirl around in a bathing suit to give us a rear view before topping off their look with the perfect accessories. When I see this content, I think, Wow, she’s so confident; she really pulled that outfit together! Or, She looks amazing—maybe I could wear that too. I literally never think, She could lose some weight. Yet I don’t need to tell you that despite some of the gains we’ve seen in body representation and self-acceptance in the last couple of decades, recently there’s been a seismic shift in our culture when it comes to what size people feel they could or should be. GLP-1s have played a large role in this.
For midsize creators, these wildly popular weight-loss drugs pose unique questions. FDA-approved for treating obesity, as well as other conditions, including sleep apnea, the medications are increasingly being used off-label by people who don’t qualify based on factors like their BMI (which has long been a controversial measure of health, FWIW). I know many women who don’t need to lose weight for health reasons but wonder if they should give GLP-1s a shot—and of course, some content creators are feeling the pull too. “For years the pressure to lose weight had been dwindling, but now it’s ramped back up,” says midsize fashion creator Meghan Korte, one of my first and favorite follows in the category. “I think every single woman feels more pressure than they did, say, three years ago, regardless of their size.”
There’s definitely been a feeling of whiplash, says Taryn Hicks, a size-14 creator with 1.2 million followers on Instagram as of publishing. “The body-positivity movement feels like it just happened yesterday, and we were fighting for body diversity in brands a couple of years ago. Now we’re moving backward again,” she says. “As people are getting smaller, I’m seeing sizing ranges shrink. I’ve had to cut ties with brands because a size large is now the largest size offered, when they previously had at least up to an XXL. It’s jolting.” Stylist and content creator Pilar Scratch, who’s midsize herself, puts it bluntly: “The pressure [to get smaller] never left; it just took a lunch break. Now it’s back—with a prescription pad.”
Shrinking influencers and celebrities
The evidence is everywhere. It seems each week we see another celebrity step onto the red carpet looking notably smaller, including ones who (previously) appeared to be midsize. Last year Amy Schumer and Meghan Trainor said they lost 50 and 60 pounds, respectively, with the help of GLP-1s. Serena Williams also recently shared that she used one to lose more than 30 pounds. They all faced criticism, in part because they’d previously spoken out about body positivity.
So what could using weight-loss drugs mean for midsize creators, who have literally built brands and communities centered around not trying to become smaller? We’re watching the answer emerge in real time. A number of these influencers are using GLP-1s—some quietly, some loudly, and some with a sponsored link to a website offering their medication of choice—and their audiences are noticing. “I have watched several midsize creators shrink right out of their own brand positioning within months,” Scratch says. “Some are transparent about using GLP-1s. Others post ‘health journey’ content and magically drop two dress sizes between Target hauls.”
Korte’s observations are similar. “I noticed a shift in early 2024, with several creators [I follow] losing weight seemingly overnight, and then it picked up from there,” she says. “Algorithms are funny because you can be following a person and not see them for months, [then] they pop back up looking noticeably different. It’s a bit jarring to see, [especially if] they had centered their platforms around acceptance.” Still, she’s not immune to the medications’ allure; Korte admits that before an influencer conference a year and a half ago, she considered jumping on the bandwagon. “I had a moment of FOMO, of not wanting to be left behind,” she says. The pressure has only ramped up since, Korte says; she believes the prevalence of GLP-1 advertisements is partially to blame. “I get ads, direct messages, emails, and marketing companies asking me to try it and promote it,” she says. And naturally, trolls periodically swing by the comments to tell her she should “go on Ozempic.”
For some influencers the biggest challenge isn’t the persistent, ambient suggestions of weight loss or even the fear of being left behind. It’s feeling let down when a role model seems to do a full 180. “The introduction of GLP-1s has been hard,” Hicks says. “When you’re someone who has battled an eating disorder and/or body image issues, seeing women you’ve admired, especially for their style, suddenly shrink can confirm negative thoughts these women were unknowingly holding back for us. For me, time and time again, I’m left with the narrative: They changed their body because it was bad, so that means mine is bad too.”
She has addressed these resurfaced feelings through therapy and is now more protective about the content she allows in her feed. “I do not judge women for taking GLP-1s. I don’t know their story, their medical history, or the battles they’re fighting internally or externally,” she says. “But one key thing that’s been important for me as I’ve watched the midsize community shrinking before my eyes is setting boundaries. I’ve muted or unfollowed creators whose journey isn’t aligned with mine. I’ve paid attention to who makes me feel like I need to be someone or something else and removed that influence. And in return, I’ve protected my peace.”
On the flip side, some midsize creators say being transparent about taking GLP-1s has helped them maintain followers—even though one could argue they have no obligation to share. As Hicks says, “The only body that is any of my business is my own.” After learning she was prediabetic and insulin-resistant, lifestyle blogger Alicia T. Chew, who was formerly a size 10 or 12, lost 30 pounds on a GLP-1 she got through a collaboration with a telehealth company. After sharing in an Instagram post that she had started a GLP-1 for these reasons, she says her followers were both accepting and intrigued. “I was shocked by how many people were interested—it’s currently some of my highest-performing content,” she says. “I wouldn’t be surprised if people quietly unfollowed me because I lost weight, but I think that because I was candid about the entire process, I retained the trust I’d spent years building with my audience.” At the same time Chew is conscious of the recent vibe shift that weight-loss drugs are contributing to. “It definitely feels like body dysmorphia came back into style along with low-rise pants,” she says. “Being healthy is great, but being skinny doesn’t always correlate with health, and you never know what’s going on with someone behind the scenes.”
Will midsize lose momentum?
As some creators walk the tightrope of losing weight while maintaining an authentic connection with their community, it feels inevitable that others will lose followers along the way. “There’s no judgment in choosing what works for your body. But there is a very real shift happening where midsize creators are unintentionally exiting the very space that made them relatable,” Scratch says. Then again, as Hicks notes, some influencers who were previously plus-size have moved into the midsize category after taking GLP-1s. These shifts feed demand for the exact boots-on-the-ground (jeans-on-the-thighs?) fashion tips that midsize influencers excel at creating and shoppers increasingly rely on in our digital-focused world. “Getting notes on fit is more important than ever now that consumers are more likely to shop online rather than try things on in a store,” Chew says. “Clothing sizes are all over the place, and some brands just don’t work as nicely with curves as others.”
Beyond fit are perhaps even trickier questions: Can someone still convey body acceptance while deliberately, and fairly rapidly, dropping multiple sizes? Is even asking that question passing judgment in a way that’s very un-midsize? Do creators really owe followers explanations about weight loss, or does that assumption create unfair pressures? “It brings up the complexity of parasocial relationships and the expectations audiences place on creators,” says body-positive fitness coach and content creator Kelsey Ellis. “Audiences have the autonomy to decide who they follow, just as creators have the freedom to make choices about their bodies and evolve their content. The tension comes when audiences feel they’re owed transparency, while creators feel entitled to privacy or a new niche.”
Many midsize creators mention that while GLP-1s may seem novel, our cultural preoccupation with weight loss is a tired trope, one they’re happy to keep tuning out. “I think [it] will continue to be a hot topic, just like it has been for over a century,” says midsize creator Kiteen Mainil. Diet culture as we know it today began to take shape in the mid 1800s, when published works first started offering weight-loss advice. It continued to evolve around the turn of the century as beauty ideals shifted away from the hourglass figure toward a slimmer silhouette. And by the 1950s amphetamines started being marketed to women as weight-loss pills, a market that grew to over $120 million by the 1960s, one study estimates. One could argue that GLP-1s are just a safer modern-day iteration of this pharmaceutical boom.
That lower price tag comes with some big risks.
Mainil, who explains that she supports others’ using GLP-1s but isn’t really tempted by them, agrees that history tends to repeat itself. “Weight-loss medications are just the latest in a long line of trends and won’t be the last,” she says. “For me it just reinforces why I’ll keep showing up and loving my body, no matter what stage it’s in. I was lucky to be raised believing that my weight is the least interesting thing about me.”
Whatever their personal relationship with GLP-1s, midsize creators seem confident that this space will remain relevant, thanks to its realism and its core value—body neutrality, which takes the focus off appearance and instead respects the body for its functionality. Showing weight loss online could be considered just another part of giving women a broad representation of real bodies and lives. In fact, Blue Jasmine says she thinks the advent of GLP-1s will actually encourage midsize communities to mature and get stronger, with some creators homing in on certain sizes and others sharing fashion for changing bodies. “Weight management is not a moral issue, and being midsize is not a protest. Both are simply parts of life for many people,” she says. “Everyone deserves to feel good in their body, however that looks for them. The goal was never to stay midsize forever. The goal was to stop treating women’s worth like it rises and falls with a jeans size.”
