Taming the Werewolf: Breaking Free from the ED Beast
- Olivia Pillai Quinney
- Apr 16
- 4 min read
Recently, I found myself immersed in a game of Werewolf—a social deduction game where players secretly assume roles as “villagers” or “werewolves.” For the uninitiated, the premise is simple yet psychologically captivating: the “werewolves” are a small, informed minority working together to deceive and eliminate the uninformed majority of “villagers.” The game was originally created by a Russian sociology student to prove a compelling thesis: an uninformed majority will always lose to an informed minority. As I played, I had an unsettling epiphany: diet culture operates in eerily similar ways, thriving on mistrust, manipulation, and conformity.
Manipulation of Perception
In Werewolf, the werewolves manipulate perceptions, spinning lies and sowing doubt to hide their true identities. Diet culture does the same—except it’s not a game. It manipulates how we perceive health, beauty, and happiness. Through relentless marketing and media, it convinces us that thinness equals happiness and that restrictive diets or expensive programs are the only paths to self-acceptance. Like a cunning werewolf player, diet culture keeps its true motives hidden while profiting from the confusion it creates.
As someone who spent half my life either on a diet or battling an eating disorder, I’ve experienced this firsthand. My self-worth plummeted, even when the scale hit an all-time low. Sure, there were fleeting moments of confidence, but they evaporated as quickly as they came.
Creation of Mistrust
In Werewolf, mistrust fuels the game. Every player questions their instincts and accuses others, unsure of whom to believe. Diet culture thrives on a similar kind of mistrust—except it teaches us to doubt ourselves. It trains us to ignore our body’s natural signals of hunger and fullness, replacing them with arbitrary rules about “good” and “bad” foods.
I remember starving myself, only to binge later, creating a vicious cycle of guilt and shame.
Social Conformity
Werewolf players quickly learn that stepping outside the group consensus is dangerous—it invites suspicion and could lead to elimination. Diet culture enforces a similar kind of conformity. We’re pressured to adopt specific eating habits, exercise routines, and body ideals to fit societal norms. Straying from these expectations—whether by enjoying dessert or embracing a body-positive mindset—often results in judgment or exclusion.
Heaven forbid we “let ourselves go.” The fear of standing out keeps many of us trapped within the narrow confines of diet culture’s expectations.
Fear and Guilt as Tools
In Werewolf, fear drives every decision: fear of being accused, fear of trusting the wrong person, fear of being eliminated. Diet culture wields these same tools with ruthless efficiency. We’re taught to fear weight gain, demonize certain foods, and feel guilty for indulging in “forbidden” pleasures. This fear and guilt trap us in a cycle of restriction and shame, ensuring we stay compliant with the culture’s demands.
Let’s not forget: the diet industry is a billion-dollar business. Its rules, like those of Werewolf, are designed to keep us losing.
Winning Through Deception
In Werewolf, the werewolves win by deceiving the villagers and keeping them in the dark. Diet culture’s victory comes in a similar way. Its success depends on selling lies: quick fixes, miracle diets, and “magic” products that promise transformation but rarely deliver.
Take Ozempic, for example—a medication for diabetics now being abused by non-diabetics to lose weight. Diet culture thrives on these deceptions, feeding the illusion of control and keeping us chasing unattainable goals. The industries profit while individuals suffer.
Polarized Roles
The game of Werewolf thrives on division, pitting “villagers” against “werewolves.” Diet culture thrives on similar polarization, categorizing food and behaviors as “good” or “bad,” “healthy” or “unhealthy.” This black-and-white mindset leaves little room for nuance or personal choice, forcing us into restrictive roles that undermine our well-being.
Just as Werewolf simplifies complex social dynamics into a binary struggle, diet culture reduces our relationships with food and health to rigid rules and unrealistic expectations. Fat stigma, for example, leads to real harm, with people often misdiagnosed or mistreated simply because of their weight.
Power Imbalances
Ultimately, both Werewolf and diet culture hinge on power imbalances. In Werewolf, the informed minority (werewolves) hold all the power, manipulating the majority for their gain. In diet culture, industry giants—diet companies, fitness influencers, and media conglomerates—wield immense power over individuals, exploiting insecurities to sell their products. The system is designed to keep us dependent, questioning, and striving for an impossible ideal.
Breaking free requires recognizing these power dynamics and reclaiming our agency. Otherwise, we risk wasting our lives chasing the perfect body instead of feeding our souls.
Breaking Free
The parallels between Werewolf and diet culture are unsettling. Both thrive on control, doubt, and division, making it difficult to break free. But just as a skilled player can outwit the werewolves with clarity and critical thinking, we can challenge diet culture by reclaiming trust in ourselves. This means questioning the rules, rejecting the manipulation, and embracing the messy, nuanced reality of our bodies and lives.
Diet culture doesn’t have to win—but we need to stop playing its game. Instead, let’s rewrite the rules, choosing self-acceptance and empowerment over fear and conformity. Only then can we shift the balance of power and reclaim our autonomy.
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