Why Women Are Turning To “Mean Girl” Wellness And Leaving Body Positivity Behind

I turn on fitness coach Toni Fine’s video as I’m sweating on the treadmill.

She’s live on TikTok, speaking through the screen and responding to her many viewers. She’d ask them, “Why is your back as big as a linebacker’s?” and something along the lines of, “Why do you think you deserve a cheat meal when you’ve had a cheat life?” You would think I’d shut off my phone and listen to music – but instead of rolling my eyes or hitting mute, I increase the speed of the machine.

Her content fueled me. I laughed a lot. It was funny. More than that, it awakened my passion for eating healthy and moving. Despite the jokes she’d make on her platform, Toni wasn’t coming from a place of hate – she was coming from experience. Her approach may sound insane to some, but I see it as “tough love.” Her goal, when you really look past the fat comments, is coming from a place of her wanting women to wake up, take care of themselves, and feel proud of what they’re building. 

Liv Schmidt, another so-called “mean girl” influencer who would tell women to eat less and walk more, recently got banned from TikTok because she was “promoting something dangerous.” In my opinion, she got banned because she was effective. She exposed body positivity for what it had become: a performance, a curated illusion designed to help women cope. Before launching her “skinni” movement, she did everything TikTok wellness culture told her to do. She drank green juices, journaled, ate intuitively, and still felt awful. “I was miserable in my body, and faking that I felt empowered just wasn’t cutting it anymore,” she told The Wall Street Journal.

So she stopped performing and posted what she actually ate. She used the word skinny, the scandal! She told the truth about what it takes to feel good in your body again. In response, TikTok banned her six times, and mentions of her name were flagged. Her content – much of it geared toward helping women break binge cycles – was wiped from the platform.

“They were okay with girls pretending to eat 10 cookies a day and stay skinny,” Liv said. “But when I said the truth – walk more, eat less – I got erased.”

This is the part that still blows my mind: TikTok will promote #FatTok and feeder content but draws the line at a woman losing 20 pounds through self-discipline. Yet, even in the face of bans and backlash, Schmidt’s content still reached people. It reached me.

The media might call her and others like her “mean,” but if you’ve ever followed Liv Schmidt, Amanda Dobler, Wizard Liz, or Toni Fine while trying to get your life together, you know they’re not the enemy. In fact, they might be the only ones actually helping. 

Women Aren’t Offended, They’re Energized

I got sick of being coddled on Instagram and TikTok. For the past few years, I kept hearing the same message on repeat: that I was good enough as I was and that it was perfectly acceptable to rot in bed because I was depressed. We’ve spent the better part of a decade absorbing “healthy at every size” messaging and scrolling past pastel quote graphics that, frankly, never made us feel any better. But as we’ve seen with the viral #SkinnyTok movement, there’s been a major shift. Women are starting to lean into hard truths and embrace female coaches who aren’t afraid to be a little edgier. The influencers who gave the “harsh truth” didn’t gain massive followings by accident. Their content cuts through the fog of infantilization.

This surprises legacy media since women are listening – because, for the first time in a long time, someone is treating them like they’re capable.

The thing is, most women aren’t confused about what health looks like, despite what the media suggests. We know vegetables are better than chips. We know movement is better than stagnation. We know chronic bloat and fatigue aren’t empowerment. These "mean girls" aren’t shaming people; they’re challenging them to stop pretending that feeling bad is normal. They reject the idea that stagnation is strength simply because it’s been rebranded that way. They’re not whispering gentle affirmations; they’re giving the jolt so many women need.

That said, everyone responds to motivation differently. Some thrive under gentleness, others under logic and structure. But there’s a growing audience of women – myself included – who benefit from directness. This "harsh" tone is only perceived as cruel if you’ve been conditioned to equate honesty with harm. For women who’ve spent years gaslighting themselves into calling chaos “self-love,” hearing someone speak plainly is a relief.

Why the Media Is Really Panicking

USA Today recently ran an op-ed titled “Liv Schmidt, the rise of the ‘Skinny Influencer’ and the danger it poses to youth.” The tone, unsurprisingly, was patronizing from the start: “Her name? Liv Schmidt. Her brand? Being skinny.” This is where we’re at. Thinness is now treated like a threat to public health. The piece warns that her message is harmful to young people, and their solution is to raise parental awareness or monitor feeds. Why not do that from the beginning, instead of removing an entire movement from the platform – one that adult women relied on for motivation?

Perhaps it’s because it’s not actually about protecting the youth but more about preserving ideological control. Liv didn’t say anything radical; neither did the other women. They all just said the quiet part out loud: women want to look and feel good. The illusion of comfort is losing its grip, and women are choosing results over performance. However, the “eat well and look hot” mantra isn’t favored by corporations. That’s why they call these women dangerous. 

I’m 15 pounds down. That might not sound like much, but I’m a short woman with a slow metabolism and a long history of doing everything TikTok told me would make me feel good…only to feel worse. And all I can say is that I’m grateful for the tough love. I’m grateful for the women who raised the standard, told me the truth, and said, “You’re not a victim, and you know that.”

I didn’t need another permission slip to stay stuck in a rut under the guise of “acceptance” or “love” – because being called out was the most loving thing anyone could’ve done.