I tried to approach this book with an open mind, but I need to disclose a few biases:
- I’m very wary of the self-help industry. Too often it preys on people’s insecurities, with gurus who lack real qualifications but are skilled at selling the idea that they live better lives than you—whether or not that’s true.
- I’m especially wary of self-help marketed to children, who are incredibly vulnerable. I genuinely believe you should need actual education or credentials to sell advice to kids, not just a few years working as a plus sized model.
- I believe in caloric realism and the vast body of research on the health risks of obesity. This shouldn’t be a “bias” any more than believing the earth is round. Yet this book is filled with anti-health dogma framed as research, to the point that no one could enjoy it unless they’d already converted to fat acceptance.
Why would teens take advice from Tess Holliday?
Let’s be honest: teenagers don’t know who Tess Holliday is. Her heyday was a decade ago, which feels recent to me as a 31-year-old, but most of the intended audience were in diapers—or not even born—when Tess was relevant. The book opens with a long, gushing interview between Tess and co-writer Kelly Coon, seemingly to prove Tess is worth listening to. But she isn’t someone teens naturally admire.
And if she’s not famous to them, she should at least be qualified, right? Wrong! Tess has zero qualifications. She has never studied psychology, child development, or any related field. She has no experience working with kids. By her own admission, she’s actively struggling with an eating disorder. Why would anyone take body-image advice from someone in crisis herself?
Self-help book or vanity project?
Large sections of the book feel less like advice for teens and more like a fan magazine about Tess. There are many glam photos of her, Q&As that add little to the topic, and even an entire chapter on her tattoos. There are entire sections where the authors seemingly just forgot that they were writing a self help book. Tess also uses the book to repeatedly clap back at her haters—who are not the target audience—and to describe her eating disorder in detail, which is neither helpful nor appropriate for teens. It all raises the question: who exactly is this book for?
No actual useful advice
The advice Tess does give is impractical or flat-out useless. She acknowledges the harm of social media, but her solution is simply to log off and hang out with friends in person—rollerblading or Googling conversation starters (yes, this is real advice from the book). That’s not realistic for kids today, or even most adults, since so much of life happens online.
Her anti-bullying advice is similarly shallow: tell them to stop, then don’t let it bother you. Infuriatingly, she repeats the old “you won’t see these people in a few years” line, which sounds fine to adults but is meaningless to a 12-year-old. Six years until graduation is half their life.
Her guidance on body image isn’t better. She points out that beauty standards change, but never addresses how to cope with not fitting those standards in the moment. And her response to depression or dark thoughts—essentially “that’s just how brains are, try changing your thinking”—isn’t just useless, it’s potentially harmful. If you’re not qualified to address mental health, just don’t.
No clear age group
The book is labeled for ages 12–18, which is a HUGE range, and the tone is all over the place. Makeup, tattoos, and eating disorders clearly target older teens, while reminders to ask a parent about food allergies sound more suited for a 4-year-old. The overall vibe is very “how do you do, fellow kids?” I can’t picture a teenager of any age actually enjoying this book. Tess’s usual target audience is older millennial women, and this feels like the kind of book an aunt buys her niece, and then the niece never actually reads it.
Contradictory body-image messaging
The book claims to promote body acceptance, yet much of it is about improving appearance. In one story, a girl is teased about acne. The obvious takeaway should have been that pimples are normal and everyone gets them. Instead, Tess pivots into skincare routines—as if perfect skincare would solve the problem. It’s tone-deaf, and it undermines the very message of self-acceptance.
Product placement
The constant brand callouts throughout the book make it read like an advertisement.
Weird opinions presented as fact
Some of Tess’s declarations are just bizarre:
-Changing your body won’t ever make you happy, because you’ll always find a new insecurity (easy to say when she’s never lost weight—how would she know how it feels?).
-“We aren’t our bodies, they’re just cars driving our souls around” (unhelpful and strange—we can’t just trade our body in for a new one if we abuse it).
-“Food has no moral value.”
Junk science with zero citations
The book throws out sweeping “facts” without sources, relying on vague phrases like “experts say.” Examples: body size isn’t related to eating habits; health can’t be judged by size; atypical anorexia applies to Tess despite her not meeting DSM-5 criteria; fatness is 80% genetic famine-survival. These claims are misleading at best, and deceptive at worst.
Pro-fat dogma
I hesitate to say anyone is “promoting obesity,” since the phrase is often used unfairly, but Tess crosses that line. She spends pages calling out fitness influencers for being appearance-focused, but offers no practical guidance on healthy living. Starting small, building habits, getting over gym anxiety—these are real challenges she could have addressed, but she doesn’t, because she’s out of her depth. Ironically, the very criteria she lists for spotting untrustworthy advice would disqualify her.
She also insists we should never comment on appearance—even compliments about hair, height, or weight loss. While it’s fair to avoid remarks that might make someone uncomfortable, banning all comments is extreme and reflects her own insecurity more than a helpful lesson. Other people shouldn’t have to tiptoe around our feelings constantly, and if compliments trigger you, that’s something to work through—not a burden to put on everyone else.
Overall, this book was very bizarre and I would never recommend it to anyone—much less an impressionable child. The overall message I took away from it is that Tess has a lot of work to do on herself.