In Lebanon, casual comments about weight are so normalized that they can reshape how people eat, see themselves and relate to their bodies.
The pressure to be thin in Lebanese families
In many Lebanese households, a body update can arrive before a hello. "You gained weight." "You lost so much weight." "You became too skinny." These lines are so woven into casual conversation that they rarely register as intrusive, often delivered as affection, concern, or simple observation rather than judgment. But according to nutritionist and health expert Melissa Kozah, the gap between intention and impact is exactly where the damage happens.
A two-way wound
Lebanese culture's obsession with thinness creates a paradox, even naturally slim people aren't spared scrutiny. "Someone who is naturally slim and is constantly told that they are 'too thin,' 'unhealthy-looking' or 'in need of gaining weight' may begin to feel that their body is inadequate or abnormal," Kozah explained. Being told to "just eat more" can feel just as invalidating as being told to diet, especially when it dismisses genuine discomfort. "Repeated comments can also make them feel that they are not being taken seriously... because others assume that being thin automatically means being satisfied with their body."
The consequences, she said, run in both directions, "body dissatisfaction, lower self-esteem, increased body checking, comparison with others, anxiety around weight changes." Clinically, her concern peaks when comments start reshaping actual eating behavior, such as restricting food to avoid gaining weight or forcing oneself to eat to gain it. "Body shaming does not become harmless simply because someone is thin."
When food stops being food
Repeated body commentary, Kozah said, gradually severs food from nourishment and turns it into something governed by fear. This typically begins early. "This often starts at a very young age, particularly during the teenage years, when body image and self-esteem are still developing." Family, she noted, carries outsized influence precisely because its comments are frequent and emotionally loaded, even when framed as love. "Even comments that are presented as concern, advice or affection can stay with someone for years and shape how they view their body and food."
The behavioral fallout is specific, sorting foods into "good" and "bad," feeling guilty after eating, skipping meals before social events, or exercising to "earn" a meal. Social media intensifies the pressure, Kozah said, but family often cuts deeper. "Family and relatives often have an especially strong influence because these messages may begin early and come from people the person trusts."
Where the line actually is
Kozah was careful to separate a legitimate health goal from a preoccupation that has taken over someone's life. Clinically, she assesses concrete indicators, a BMI above 24.9 kg/m² or metabolic risk factors for weight-related concerns, a BMI below 18.5 kg/m² or signs of malnutrition on the other end, rather than appearance judgments alone. But the psychological warning signs matter just as much, "constantly thinking about food or weight, weighing yourself several times a day, repeatedly checking your body in the mirror... avoiding restaurants or social occasions because of food." A particularly telling sign, she said, is when self-worth becomes tethered to the scale, "feeling confident because the number went down one morning and feeling like a failure because it went up the next day." Her broader test is simple, "If pursuing 'health' is making you increasingly anxious, isolated or afraid of food, that is an important warning sign."
"Harmless" comments, real consequences
Kozah pointed to how normalized, even automatic, body comments have become. "You see someone after a few months and one of the first things they hear might be, 'You gained weight'... Most of the time, the person saying it may genuinely have no bad intention." But intention doesn't determine impact. A single offhand remark, delivered at a vulnerable moment, can trigger restriction, overeating, or a preoccupation with changing one's body. She also flagged an overlooked danger, compliments. "If someone receives the most compliments at a time when they are severely restricting their food, they may start associating restriction with approval."
Her advice for breaking the habit is straightforward. "I always encourage people to compliment things that are not related to body size. Tell someone they look happy, that you love their outfit, that they are glowing." Behind any visible weight change, she added, could be stress, illness, grief, or recovery, reasons no casual comment could ever account for.
Rebuilding a different relationship with your body
For anyone who has spent years feeling their body was never "right," Kozah's message begins with releasing the idea that it needs to be. "Their body does not have to constantly be a project that needs fixing." Real change, she said, comes from shifting focus away from appearance and toward what actually supports a person, nutrition, rest, movement, energy, alongside "body respect" rather than forced body positivity. "You are allowed to set boundaries around body comments. You can tell people that you would rather not discuss your weight." When these thoughts significantly affect daily life, she recommends professional support, a dietitian, therapist, or physician working as a team.
What emerges is a challenge to a cultural habit that treats other people's bodies as open conversation. As she put it, the goal is a life "where food supports your life rather than controls it, and where your body is something you care for rather than something you are constantly fighting", a standard far harder to meet in a culture still fluent in commenting on bodies as casually as the weather.
