Provo, Utah — Katie Lundgreen Urness’s battle with disordered eating began at the tender age of 11, deeply influenced by her years as a competitive gymnast. A drive for a petite figure clouded her self-image; as a child, she longed for treats like candy but felt an overwhelming guilt that prevented her from enjoying even a single Skittle. After nearly a decade of struggling with anorexia nervosa, she sought professional help and embarked on a long, challenging journey toward recovery, motivated by her aspiration to become a mother.
While Urness, now 28, eventually found a healthier relationship with food, her pregnancy at 25 triggered new challenges. Social media platforms, particularly TikTok and Instagram, flooded her feed with wellness content centered on motherhood, despite her previous efforts to avoid such material. Among various themes, messages around “food purity” captured her attention—warning against common ingredients in baby formulas and cereals, many of which have since been debunked. Urness noted that these creators often criticized the medical establishment, depicting it as outdated and untrustworthy.
Among the influencers in this space was Courtney Swan, who gained notoriety for making exaggerated claims about health risks, along with Vani Hari, labeled a purveyor of pseudoscience by critics. This trend created an environment rife with anxiety about dietary choices, urging extreme vigilance over what one eats. As Urness consumed this content, she found herself fixated on the healthfulness and safety of her food to an unhealthy extreme.
Experts in nutrition warn that this obsessive preoccupation, often termed orthorexia, can lead to significant health issues. Defined by its extreme focus on food purity and healthiness, orthorexia is a condition where worry over food leads to restrictive eating patterns and nutritional deficiencies. While the term was introduced in 1997, many still have difficulty recognizing it, as it is not included in diagnostic manuals such as the DSM-5.
Urness described how, as her pregnancy progressed, she increasingly feared everyday foods. Even vegetables became sources of anxiety due to concerns over pesticides. She revealed that she considered returning to restrictive eating patterns to safeguard her health and that of her nursing infant. This conflicting mindset reflects the growing concern among health professionals about the rise of orthorexia, as the prevalence of symptoms related to this condition appears to be increasing across demographics.
Much of this rise can be attributed to the extensive reach of social media, which has made disordered eating beliefs more widespread. Research indicates that almost half of Instagram users who follow health food accounts display symptoms of orthorexia. Today, popular platforms like TikTok have further amplified alarmist rhetoric about food purity.
Another individual, Allison Hume, 40, from Ontario, experienced a similar descent into anxiety over food safety after a challenging birth during the pandemic. She turned to social media influencers for guidance, believing that their black-and-white perspectives provided comfort. Hume’s obsession with food purity strained relationships with her family, leading her to toss out products containing common ingredients deemed unsafe by the influencers she followed.
With rising grocery costs impacting many families, the financial burden of purchasing high-end products further complicated her situation. Hume found herself trapped in a cycle of anxiety, fearing her family’s health was compromised with every meal. As with many struggling with orthorexia, the condition can extend beyond food to significantly affect interpersonal relationships and overall mental health.
Health professionals advocate for a more comprehensive approach to overcome orthorexia, emphasizing the importance of a balanced diet and collaboration with registered dietitians. Various treatments exist to tackle disordered beliefs about food, providing emotional support through challenges while encouraging gradual exposure to previously feared foods.
As she works on her recovery, Hume reflects on the missed moments with her children, feeling remorse for being emotionally unavailable due to her food obsessions. She believes creators who profit from this misinformation capitalize on vulnerable individuals seeking guidance, often disregarding the well-being of their audience.
The impact of wellness misinformation stretches beyond individual experiences. With growing distrust in health institutions, the proliferation of alarmist narratives often distracts from systemic issues within the food industry, including inadequate nutritional support for the public. Critics argue that focusing on minor dietary threats diverts attention from significant health risks faced by many communities, exacerbating public anxiety.
In a climate where misinformation thrives, Urness and others are rallying for a cultural shift towards sound nutrition practices. They advocate for greater accessibility to accurate information and emphasize collective responsibility in promoting well-being. By fostering a supportive community, they believe it’s possible to challenge the status quo and create a more informed dialogue surrounding health and nutrition.