When Did Your Body Become the Marketplace?

Why change can feel possible one week and almost impossible the next.

,

Food wants you hungry. Pharma wants you thinner. Influencers want your likes. Everyone wants your money.

There is a strange thing you can do now.


You can sit on the sofa, order dinner without standing up, keep scrolling and watch somebody with a startlingly lean body explain the peptide stack they swear by. A few swipes later, a clinic or pharmacy can offer a legitimate weight-loss treatment for a few hundred pounds a month. Somewhere else on the same screen, a face has been filled, tightened, filtered or otherwise improved.


Different industries, same body — and all of them are changing the conditions around what that body eats, wants, looks like and comes to mean.

UKHSA’s historical series puts obesity in England at about 6% of men and 9% of women around 1980. The Health Survey for England 2024, using measured heights and weights, found 30% of adults living with obesity and 66% either overweight or living with obesity.


That did not happen because millions of people collectively developed worse personalities. Something around us changed.


Less physical work is part of it, but only part. Food became more convenient, more heavily processed, more available and more aggressively marketed. In one tightly controlled NIH experiment people offered ultra-processed food ate about 500 calories more a day than when the same people were offered minimally processed food, even though the diets were matched for presented calories and major nutrients.


Retail changed too. Government food statistics put Britain’s four largest grocers at 65.7% of grocery sales; “symbols and independents” account for 1.4% in the same market measure. Supermarkets have brought enormous benefits — range, price, convenience, reliable supply — but their scale also changed the terms on which smaller local shops compete, what sits closest to us and what has become easiest to buy.

No conspiracy is required. A manufacturer wants a product people buy again. A supermarket wants a bigger basket. A delivery app wants another order. A social platform wants another minute of attention. Each incentive makes sense on its own. Put them together and you can produce an environment that is very good at making food visible, available and easy to consume.

Then another industry arrived with a remarkable counter-offer: what if we changed appetite itself?


The Health Foundation cites an estimate that about 2.4 million people in the UK are now accessing GLP-1 medicines, with the private sector the main route because NHS access remains limited. One large private provider in its analysis charged £144 to £324 a month.


There is something almost comic about the position we have reached. One part of the economy has become exceptionally good at making calories easy to want and buy. Another is becoming exceptionally good at making us want less of them.

Does that mean someone paying £200 a month for Mounjaro should simply spend the money on better food? Sometimes that money could certainly change a household’s food options. But “buy broccoli instead” is far too easy. These medicines change hunger and fullness, and withdrawal studies show why that matters.

In the SURMOUNT-4 trial, people first lost substantial weight on tirzepatide. Those switched off the drug then regained about 14% of their body weight over the following year, while those who stayed on it lost more. Everyone continued receiving lifestyle counselling encouraging a calorie deficit and at least 150 minutes of physical activity a week.

So if somebody loses weight on medication and later regains some when it stops, what exactly does that prove about their discipline? Probably less than we think.

The body is not just something we live inside. We also use it as evidence.


A lean businessperson can look “in control”. A muscular gym regular — the body, the clothes, the BMW with the black alloys — can be assembling a whole visible identity. A woman may want the body she increasingly sees presented as normal or desirable online. At the other end is somebody with severe obesity who is frightened about diabetes, breathless on the stairs, in pain and desperate for something that finally works.

Calling all of them “weight-loss users” tells us very little about what they are trying to change, or why.


And weight is only part of this. ISAPS counted nearly 38 million surgical and non-surgical cosmetic procedures worldwide in 2024, an increase of more than 40% from 2020. A systematic review of social-media exposure and cosmetic-procedure interest found a consistent relationship between idealised or edited appearance content, body dissatisfaction and greater interest in cosmetic intervention.


The screen can change the standard before the clinic changes the body. Once enough altered faces and bodies enter the comparison group, the untouched body can begin to look like the deviation. What started as an intervention becomes part of the environment everyone else is judging themselves against.

Then there are peptides.


Alongside legitimate medicine, a parallel pharmaceutical supply chain is growing. Some compounds discussed online are not approved medicines for human use at all. “Research use only” products can sit beside dosing conversations, blood tests, before-and-after photographs and confident advice from people who may genuinely know far more about one particular compound than the average GP.


Knowledge, though, is not long-term evidence.


This year UK regulators raided a Northamptonshire site they believed was manufacturing, assembling and distributing unlicensed weight-loss medicines and peptide products. They recovered around 12,000 doses, including retatrutide — an experimental weight-loss drug that has not yet completed the normal route into approved medicine.


These are new Silk Roads. Chemistry can originate in one country, manufacturing or packaging in another, and the story about what it does can come from an influencer thousands of miles away. The final step may be nothing more exotic than an online order and a parcel through the letterbox — or a gym contact, coach or someone who “knows a man”. European drug monitoring shows how the wider synthetic-drug market already draws on industrial chemistry from China and India while also using European manufacturing capacity. The global supply chain can become both remarkably distant and strangely local.


And the advice can travel faster than the evidence.


Nobody really knows how many people are self-experimenting with research peptides. That uncertainty is itself part of the story. We may be creating a significant health experiment before we have even built the systems to measure it.


Some users are not fools. They read papers, track blood markers and compare protocols. But a normal blood test cannot tell you whether an unregulated vial contains what the label says, whether the dose is accurate, or what repeated use will mean in ten years.


The experimentation can be private. The consequences may eventually become public.


If problems emerge later, the NHS may meet the patient without a reliable record of what was taken, for how long, at what dose, from which supplier or in what combination.


So perhaps the interesting question is no longer simply whether somebody has changed their body. It is what we decide that changed body proves.


Lazy. Disciplined. Successful. Vain. Healthy. In control.


Those verdicts can feel obvious because the body is visible. The conditions that produced it often are not.

What if it wasn’t your personality?

SHAPED Field Notes

Join SHAPED Field Notes

If these essays are useful, you can receive new Field Notes by email. Each note offers one observation, one question and one small experiment on identity, behaviour, evidence, conditions and human possibility.

No noise. No hard sell. Just thoughtful notes from the work behind SHAPED.

Discover more from Neill Crump

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading