A few months ago, I downloaded and used TikTok for the first time.
It was an interesting experience because, as a 25-year-old, I'm considered above the age demographic for this app. You’d think someone who lived through the early 2000s diet culture and Tumblr thinspo era, it wouldn’t have phased me, but it’s funny that TikTok was the app that truly got to me.
I don't think I've ever felt as awful about my body as I do now.
I wanted to talk about our obsession with our bodies, especially body type labelling. Over the past few years, we’ve seen the rise of classification theories discussing and dissecting all over the internet— e.g., Fruit Theory, the Kibbe body types.
In a world where beauty standards are growing increasingly unattainable, is labelling our bodies harmful? Or helpful?
Fruit Theory: What Is It?
Apples, pears, celery, carrots—this isn’t a shopping list, but examples of the ‘Fruit Theory’, a body classification theory that emerged in North Carolina State University in 2005 (https://www.researchgate.net/publication/286985579_Female_Figure_Identification_Technique_FFIT_for_apparel_part_I_Describing_female_shapes). A simpler version can be found here: https://qz.com/367114/its-time-we-stop-comparing-womens-body-shapes-to-fruit.
The aim of the study criticized the sizing range in the US fashion industry—which was created around the 40s and was only updated twice, the last being in the 70s (https://medium.com/sizolution/a-brief-history-of-sizing-systems-aee6bd066834). The study suggested that human bodies could be categorised in either ‘fruits’ or ‘shapes’ using 3D body scanning imaging, thus allowing the industry to create more accurate sizing. While infinitely better than a 80-year-old theory, the study only had 21 female participants, all of them primarily from North Carolina. The study takes in no account of racial or gender differences, bone density, genetics, muscle mass etc.
So, we turned to the Kibbe body types.
Kibbe Body Types: What Is It?
This classification system was created by David Kibbe in 1987 in his book, ‘Metamorphosis: Discover Your Image Identity and Dazzle As Only You Can.’ Simply put, his model focused on categorising women’s different body shapes based on bone structure, body flesh and natural body fat percentage.
There are 13 categories on a scale from ‘Yang’ (sharp, angular, muscular features) to ‘Yin’ (soft, rounded, fleshy features).
There are hundreds of articles, YouTube quizzes, essays and models explaining the Kibbe theory. It revolutionised the way women started to view their bodies because it took in account the things that had been largely ignored—our body structure. This system celebrated our colourful variety of genetics, basing each type on our bone arrangement and natural features—not on what we looked like, but on how we were shaped.
Initially, I found this study to be life changing. For once, I didn’t feel ashamed of my big thighs or rounded features. But when I started to think about it, the more I started to wonder why it was life changing. Why was I obsessed with finding my ‘perfect shape’? Why did I need to know what my body looked like, to find clothes that ‘flattered’ by body shape?
Is Labelling Ourselves Important?
Why do we need labels?
I asked a few friends of mine, women in their mid-20s and above, about their thoughts on body labelling.
A select few suggested body types were key in helping them understand their bodies without feeling shame or disgust. By understanding their ‘shape’, they were able to make informed decisions on clothes that they would buy, and understand how to flatter certain attributes ex. smaller waist, bigger bust, long legs etc.
But is this a trap?
Who are we accentuating these features for? And who told us that certain features need to be accentuated? Are we dressing for ourselves or are we dressing for the beauty standard?
Others in my group absolutely abhorred the body types entirely. Their consensus was that they were entirely unhelpful because it was all about changing or giving the illusion of having a different body type, i.e., the trending body type of now. The body types might seem innocent at first glance, but in the end it’s still about you fitting your body into certain categories.
Something that came to light while I was researching for this article was how body type labelling can thank its origin partly to eugenics. In the 1940s, William Herbert Sheldon, an American psychologist, created the ‘Somatotypes’ which categorises the human body in three different categories. They suggested each type had its own measure of morality, intelligence, and future potential. It essentially suggested that your physical characteristics were an indication of your intelligence, mental, emotional, and moral tendency. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Somatotype_and_constitutional_psychology)
Does that sound eerily familiar?
Unsurprisingly, this pseudoscience was entirely based on racist and fatphobic ideals of the time and has been disproved as just ‘quack’ science. But the fact that body labelling as a concept is still around today and growing in popularity, considering its disturbing origin, is a cause for concern.
I recommend reading “Fearing the Black Body: The Racial Origins of Fatphobia” by Sabrina Strings (https://www.amazon.co.uk/Fearing-Black-Body-Racial-Origins/dp/B086Q65K1N) for a more nuanced understanding. The book goes into detail about body types, fatphobia and early modern philosophy, which ties together the origin of modern body type labelling and standards of beauty.
I also recommend reading up on Ayurvedic body type for an alternative to traditional western ideas of body types. It is an Indian system which focus on three body types (doshas). The doshas are considered biological energies that exist in our bodies, and by identifying your type you can improve your health and wellness. (https://www.banyanbotanicals.com/info/ayurvedic-living/learning-ayurveda/vata-pitta-and-kapha/).
Bodies are not trends.
We are amidst a cultural shift.
To those of us who have thicker, fuller bodies it’s time to pack up. The 20-year-cycle is over and the pendulum has swung the other way—skinny is back in.
But it's not like skinny ever left, right?
It’s just okay to aspire to be skinny again. Celebrities that were once the cultural icons of having thicker bodies have slimmed down, for example, Kim Kardashian and her clan. Throw in the popularity of Buccal Fat surgery and the Ozempic shortage epidemic, the rich and famous are starting to look like gaunt, sickly Victorian children.
Another new unattainable beauty standard to reach for.
When thicker bodies were on trend, we all wanted the ‘hourglass’ figure. We spent our days and nights scouring google for articles, blogs, YouTube videos, finding ways to make our hips and butts big. There was a spike in BBLs (Brazilian Butt Lift surgery) across the globe to achieve that perfect slim-thick look—because remember, you could only be ‘thick’ in the right places. It was an insane time being young and online during this movement. I still suffered the effects from the early ‘00s skinny, diet era—so imagine my surprise when women were getting surgery and fillers to look more like me?
All of a sudden, I could find clothes that fit me. Clothes that were, for once, cute and pretty, being styled by other women that looked like me.
Which is when it all clicked.
Now that I adhered to the new beauty standard, fast fashion companies had a legitimate reason to make clothes for me. I spent so many years suffering because I was considered too big, and now people are suffering because they're considered too small. Because in fashion skinny and thick take turns at being the desirable body, it thrives on its ability to fool us into thinking its fresh and original.
Body type labelling is nothing new, it’s been around for centuries. Thousands of years ago, it was desirable to be fat and thick because it meant you were wealthy enough to eat. Now it means you’re either too poor to afford organic foods or too lazy to go to the gym.
TikTok, Social Media, and the Present
Body checks. Need I say anything more?
If you don't know, TikTok is the most horrible place to be if you have any form of body dysmorphia, anxiety, or mental disorder. Bodychecks are a TikTok trend that focus on ‘proving’ that you have perfect or imperfect features. For example, there is one where you can use a mirror reverse filter to check if your face is symmetrical. Others include: checking how big your ‘tummy bump’ is from the side, checking your side profile for flat or bumpy nose bridges, scrunching loose t-shirts to show off your curves etc.
It's interesting how these trends are recycled versions of older, past trends. I lived through the height of the Tumblr thinspo era which romanticised eating disorders and other mental disorders (harmful behaviour to oneself).
However, TikTok is an interesting place because it’s a video sharing platform, and now your personal life must match to whatever trend you're trying to adhere to. Trends like ‘That Girl’, ‘Clean girl’, ‘Stay-at-home girlfriend’ all promote this ideal standard of rich, thin, white beauty. Watching the evolution of body labelling coming from Eugenics trickling its way down to TikTok trends, 200 or so years later, is curious and sad. TikTok is all about the aesthetic, and God forbid you don’t follow every arbitrary rule it demands from you.
But you can understand why people follow the trends. It's affirmation for them that their bodies belong and deserve to be loved.
Kibbe has an incredibly thriving fanbase on TikTok and YouTube, and YouTube was where I first heard of it. People have dedicated entire careers and channels breaking down the body types, charging money as consultants and giving style and makeup recommendations.
I went down a rabbit hole trying to find my perfect shape, retaking the test every few weeks, analysing photos of myself and other celebs, dissecting every imperfection that I had. Eventually, I got to the point where I was so obsessed with finding what would look good on me, what other people thought looked good a me, and what was ‘meant’ for my shape; that I was contorting my style to fit into it. By Kibbe’s theory I fit into a ‘Soft Romantic’. I started looking for and buying clothes that would fit my body type, even if I didn’t like them, because that’s what I thought I had to do.
The Kibbe's body types, while being the most diverse body classification system, was still done on skinny, white celebrities. Like all systems before, it ignores all racial, social, and economic factors. People are incredibly diverse and no one size could ever hope to fit us alone, let alone thirteen.
In The End…
I think that body labelling is something that we, as humans, can’t help but doing. Most of us have brains that are hardwired to find patterns, see faces and organise objects to create order out of chaos. And it can be used as a force for good, but only when it’s taken with the smallest grain of salt.
A lot of women use the body types as a jumping off point, buying clothes tailored to fit their bodies the way they want to fit. They use the body types to accentuate what they want to accentuate; not what society tells them they must. My research group all agreed that labelling yourself was not healthy, especially if you already suffer from poor self-esteem and body image, but when used sparingly it can offer some insight to your choice of style and clothing.
There are also hundreds of ripe online communities of women sharing their body types. It’s become a space for them to share their struggles, advice, and stories. I’m always astounded how kind and compassionate these communities are, even in the ugliest of places.
By understanding its origins, we’re able to critically analyse the cyclical nature of trends and understand that they do not define us. It allows us to view ourselves in our bodies more neutrally, acknowledging that we are all different and there's nothing wrong with us looking different.
The danger comes when we use body types as an example of why we are not good enough or to adhere to a specific body type because it’s ‘in style’. The whole point of the body type movement, the reason for its inception was to create and foster community between us—by celebrating our differences, not tearing ourselves down.
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