Before I explain, I want to clarify that I firmly believe in body autonomy. If someone chooses to take a weight loss medication, they should be able to do so without judgment. I hope all potential users are fully informed about the risks and benefits of these medications and are followed responsibly by medical providers. Ideally, they would also be screened for a current or past eating disorder or any other condition that might contraindicate the use of GLP-1s and GIPs.
Engagement is the highest priority of chatbot programming, intended to seduce users into spending maximum time on screens. This makes chatbots great companions-they are available 24/7, always agreeable, understanding, and empathic, while never judgmental, confronting, or reality testing. But chatbots can also become unwitting collaborators, harmfully validating self-destructive eating patterns and body image distortions of patients with eating disorders. Engagement and validation are wonderful therapeutic tools for some problems, but too often are dangerous accelerants for eating disorders.
Eating disorders often look like they're about discipline or willpower, weight loss or weight gain, control or chaos. That's precisely how diet culture wants us to see them. But underneath, they're about pain, about regulation, about protection.
"I found that calorie counts gave me some semblance of control in the aftermath of my mother's death; I couldn't control what happened to her body, but I could regulate what I put in mine."
You never know what someone else is going through and why they're eating what they're eating, highlighting the complexities behind dietary choices and interpretations of comments.
To see how deep this connection runs, this team decided to test it out using Kool-Aid. The study introduced a group of mice to Grape Kool-Aid, a novel flavor to them. Half of the mice were then injected with lithium chloride, a chemical that induces nausea.