How the return of skinny fetishism is impacting our sex lives
Blindfolds, whipped cream, and devices with nine vibration settings — most of the time, ‘tips for mind blowing sex’ revolve around introducing novelty into the bedroom. But what if the biggest barrier to having great sex (or any sex at all) isn’t a question of toys, techniques, or positions, but has more to do with the one thing you can’t swap out for a new model: your body?
Needless to say, our bodies are pretty important when it comes to getting down and dirty. But sex, libido, and desire are psychological as well as physical. And Cosmopolitan UK’s recent sex survey has discovered that the way we feel about our bodies may be playing a bigger role in our sex lives than we might like to think. Instead of spicy items, we’re bringing our body hang-ups into the bedroom. When we asked what would improve readers’ sex lives, 44% of you said “feeling more confident in yourself and your body”. Individual responses also betrayed how much body worries were affecting people’s sexual confidence, with one respondent saying “understanding my body” would make sex better, while another confessed “I don’t know if my body is normal! I worry there’s something wrong with me”.
The connection between body confidence and sexual satisfaction is borne out in other research, too. Indeed, a new study carried out by researchers from the University of Zurich confirmed this link, using 12 years of data of people’s self-esteem and sexual experiences. “People with higher self-esteem tend not only to be sexually active more often, but also to be more satisfied with their sexual experiences,” explain lead authors Elisa Weber and Wiebke Bleidorn. Age and gender matter here too: the study suggests that older people and women tend to show a stronger connection between self-esteem and sexual well-being than younger people and men. Other studies have reported similar results; a recent Superdrug survey found that 18% of people in the UK cite issues with body image or self-esteem to be among the biggest barriers for them enjoying sexual experiences, with 18 to 24-year-olds having the biggest body concerns when it comes to sex, out of any age group. Is this all that surprising though, given the wider cultural messaging many young people are being fed about beauty, fitness, and — God forbid we even admit to its reality — ageing?
After turning 30 last year, I found myself feeling pretty bad about myself. I’d put on a bit of weight, and I was increasingly aware of fine lines appearing across my face. I knew I was having a clichéd crisis about leaving my ‘youth’ behind, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t feel sexy, I felt old. What certainly didn’t help this self-esteem wobble was the fact that every time I opened Instagram I was confronted by ads for ‘Baby Botox’, filler, and other ‘tweakments’, all of which seemed to confirm my negative feelings. Opening Tiktok was even worse. Trends like ‘slim arm summer’ popped up out of nowhere, encouraging me to develop insecurities I didn’t know I could even have. At the same time, celebrities all seemed to be shrinking, as the Ozempic boom ushered in a new era of skinny fetishism. Is it any wonder I found myself zooming in on ‘unflattering’ photos — homing in on forehead wrinkles, eye bags, or the circumference of my upper arms? I felt like I was 14 again, reading 00s teen magazines that circled celebs’ cellulite as if it were an infectious disease.
I’m not the only one who’s noticed their body confidence taking a dip lately, and their sexual desire with it. 31-year-old Jasmine tells me she’s also found herself “hyper-aware of any changes” in her body. “When I think about it more it makes me want to engage with sex less and less,” Jasmine says. “It’s not that I’m not attracted to my partner, or that I don’t enjoy sex,” she adds, noting that she can still “comfortably engage solo”. It’s just that she often feels too distracted to really get into it. “I can’t be as focused when engaging with my partner purely because in my head I’m too busy thinking about all of the things I’m unhappy with about my body,” Jasmine admits. Her and her partner have spoken about this “and he’s been supportive and done and said all of the right things”, Jasmine says. But the noise is still there. “This is entirely a personal mental battle that I’m going through with myself,” she says. “It’s almost as though I don’t want to engage unless I feel like my body is entirely primed and perfectly clean in order to feel confident,” Jasmine explains. “Hello ‘everything shower’.”
While men also undoubtedly struggle with body image, it’s women who face the brunt of the pressure. Jasmine might joke about the “everything shower”, but it seems like her anxiety around her body makes her think about sexual intimacy as if she is prepping for a performance. Judging herself critically from the outside, she focuses not on her desire for her partner, but her desire to be smooth and unscented — closer to a doll, than a horny, hairy, sweaty little animal letting their sexual instincts take over.
“Individuals who struggle with body confidence often report feeling emotionally disconnected during sex, as if their minds are preoccupied with self-criticism rather than being present in the moment,” psychologist and sex and relationships adviser Barbara Santini says. “This mental disassociation can lead to performance anxiety, diminished libido, and dissatisfaction in their sexual relationships.” She stresses that this is not a new issue either. “The 2010s brought about an explosion of ‘wellness culture’, with healthy eating trends and boutique fitness classes,” Santini notes. “While these movements were initially framed as empowering, they’ve contributed to an increasingly rigid ideal of what a ‘desirable’ body should look like. This shift has led many to view their bodies not as vehicles of pleasure but as objects to be constantly sculpted.”
Although she’s healed her relationship with her body now, 34-year-old ‘curve model’ and body confidence coach Sophie Hughes can relate to Jasmine’s difficulty in letting go during sex. “From the age of 13 to 25 I had an awful relationship with my body,” she explains. “I suffered from an eating disorder and lacked so much confidence, which massively impacted my sex life.” Even cuddling was ruined by her negative self-talk. “I was always so on edge that they would touch my stomach and think I was disgusting because I didn’t have abs. I could never fully relax and enjoy the intimacy of being little spoon.”
This complex of overwhelming, negative emotions is familiar to Alice Child, a sexologist and sex counsellor at SheSpot. “As a sexologist, I speak a lot about ‘brakes’ and ‘accelerators’ when it comes to sex, desire, and libido,” she tells me. “It’s important to recognise what you need to feel turned on and in the mood (accelerators) and what things prevent you personally from building desire, arousal, and staying present (brakes),” she explains. As Christie’s experience suggests, “one of the biggest erotic ‘brakes’ is struggling with body image and sexual confidence”, says Child.
As well as blocking intimacy and connection, fixating on your ‘flaws’ can also lead to seeking validation from other people, which can also be problematic when it comes to sex. “I was dating people who weren’t very nice to me,” says 29-year-old Bethan Kershaw, for instance. “I held onto the fantasy of being the one to change these ‘bad boys’ who treated me poorly, seeking validation by getting them to change for me.” But this was always going to be a losing game. As Bethan puts it: “How can you get validation from someone who doesn’t want to give it to you?” Instead, her partners echoed her worst thoughts about herself. “I had a partner that pointed out my boobs were saggy when he was drunk,” Bethan reveals. “So for a long time, I was very insecure about my body as I thought, if that’s what can slip out after a drink, what else does he feel about my body?” The combination of not feeling comfortable in her skin and dating “people who didn’t respect [her]” created a vicious cycle. “I didn’t feel desired, which then affected my own desire for intimacy and sex.”
For people who still want to have sex (and, hopefully, great sex) there are ways you can build your confidence, in your body and the bedroom. “First, realise that body confidence is often a lifelong journey and it’s not linear,” Child says. “After all, our bodies change every day.” She encourages everyone to go easy on themselves. One of her biggest tips is to get your body moving (if you’re able to) — not to burn calories, but for endorphins. And don’t worry about hitting the gym; even going out for a walk can get these chemicals going. Plus, movement can also help people see their body less like an aesthetic object and more like a tool. “It’s great to love our body for what it can do, not just what it looks like,” Child says.
This is one of the most important mental shifts people can make, agrees Annabelle Knight. “Sex is an experience, not a performance,” she stresses. “One way to forget about your body during sex is to think of it as play. Take the pressure off by focusing on the sensations, rather than how you look. Slow down, engage in plenty of foreplay, and let your body take the lead.” Of course, there are some things that might help you get to the foreplay part. For starters, “detox your social media”, Knight says. “If scrolling through TikTok leaves you feeling ‘less than’, it might be time to hit the ‘unfollow’ button on accounts that promote unrealistic body ideals.”
Sometimes it’s your mind you’ve got to detoxify the most though. “What negative self-talk do you say to yourself when you look in the mirror or look at your body?” Alice Child asks. “What words does your body need to hear instead?” She encourages people to use positive affirmations, to “slowly re-write your negative beliefs about yourself”.
Child’s next tip is simple: “Get naked more often!” This doesn’t mean you have to hit the nudist beach. “Sleep naked, brush your teeth naked, self-pleasure naked,” continues Child. “When you are feeling more comfortable, consider getting naked in safe, body-positive environments.” Again, this doesn’t mean booking a sex party — just popping to the swimming pool will show you the bodies you see on social media aren’t the norm. “The more bodies you see, the more you will realise how normal and beautiful yours is,” Child promises. Eventually, you might even be able to accept that what you once saw as ‘flaws’ are what make you you. In the bedroom, they might even be the exact features that turn potential partners on. “Getting undressed with your lover should be about joyfully unveiling your vulnerabilities, not agonising over them,” licensed clinical professional counsellor Rychel Johnson says. “That’s when you can transform from being a mere spectator in your own body into a fully inhabited, radically alive erotic being.”
Annoyingly, transformations like this don’t usually happen overnight. Until then, it’s just about trying to feel as comfortable during sex as you possibly can be. “Think about positions where you tend to feel more comfortable in your skin and ask for those,” Child advises. “What in the room makes you feel more present? Soft lighting, darkness, music?” She also suggests trying to say body positive affirmations to yourself right at the peak of orgasm. “Don't knock it ’till you try it,” she asserts. And, finally, Child has one last classic tip for great sex: “Try a blindfold! When we can’t see, we can get out of our heads and feel more”. It’s this sensation you should focus on, more than anything else.
When Sophie was struggling with her body confidence, she didn’t speak to her partners. Thankfully though, she did talk to her therapist. “She helped me move through these feelings and start focusing on other things than just my body,” Sophie says. “I committed to being kinder to myself every day, I wrote my body a letter of apology, I stopped dressing for the body I wanted and started buying clothes that fit,” she explains. She shifted her approach to exercise, and “started having open, honest conversations with my girlfriends”, which made her realise she wasn’t alone in her feelings — this was a more common experience than she thought. “And,” she says finally, “I accepted that nobody was going to stand up at my funeral and talk about my thigh gap.”
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