We've Been Talking About Girls' Body Image. It's Time to Talk About Boys.

Guest Post: Dr. Whitney Casares

As a pediatrician and public health advocate, I’m invested in making sure all kids are safe and well. I should have had the same perspective when it came to writing a book about body confidence for children but this time, I got it wrong. When my editor first asked if my new body confidence book for kids would include boys, I hesitated. It wasn’t because I didn’t care about boys—I care deeply about kids of every gender—but because I assumed the biggest body image concerns belonged to girls. 

I pictured the moms who’d buy the book as the ones whose daughters were already tugging at their shirts in the mirror or asking why they didn’t look like the girls they saw on TikTok. The ones worried their daughters would become “Sephora Kids.” The women trying to keep their own diet-culture baggage from seeping into their parenting. From a sales perspective, it made sense. From a pediatrician’s perspective, it seemed obvious. 

I was mistaken. As I researched, listened to my patients, and dug into the data, it became impossible to ignore what was right in front of me: boys are just as vulnerable to body image struggles as girls. In many ways, they’re even more at risk.

The Body Image Crisis We Don’t See

We’ve long framed eating disorders and body dissatisfaction as “girls’ issues,” and, in particular, as problems for white girls. But boys struggle, too. Their struggle is just different. For many of them, the cultural ideal isn’t “thinness.” It’s “strength.” They’re more likely to want to get fit, lean, or muscular. And what starts as a healthy interest in fitness can easily slide into obsession. Boys, it turns out, are the ones we should probably be most worried about, not least. 

Eating disorders in adolescent boys and young men are rising, especially among athletes and among racial, ethnic, and LGBTQ+ minorities. Yet because their behaviors—strict dieting, hours in the gym, obsessing over muscle definition—are often praised as “discipline,” they often fly under the radar. These boys are googling “protein supplements” and “bulking and cutting tips” while comparing themselves to their favorite athletes, quietly struggling with the same perfectionism and shame we’ve been fighting for girls for decades. But no one’s talking about it. That silence makes their suffering even more troubling.

When Hypermasculinity Starts Young

The pursuit of hypermasculinity starts earlier than we think and it extends far beyond the physical. Jessica Sanders, author of Be Your Own Man, asked a group of forty primary school students, ages ten to twelve, to fold a sheet of paper in half during her early book research. On one side, she asked them to draw a man; on the other, a woman. Then, she had them fill the space around each figure with words that described them. The results were both fascinating and heartbreaking. 

Some kids wrote, “Men and women can be anything.” But most didn’t. The drawings of men were muscled and angry, surrounded by words like strong, mean, and sports. The women were small and smiling, surrounded by words like pretty, quiet, and shopping. Four of the boys wrote something different. Around their drawings of men, they scrawled the words: pushes down feelings. 

That should break us and call us to action. Because if boys that young already believe real men don’t show emotion, what happens when they hit adolescence—or adulthood? What happens when they start raising families of their own? The moment we teach boys that “strength” means silence, we plant the seed for loneliness, aggression, and shame. And when they grow up, that unexpressed pain can easily morph into the very behaviors we fear most: violence, bullying, risky drinking, disrespect toward women, and mental health struggles they never seek help for. 

Troy and Juan: The Boys Who Changed My Mind

Understanding just how early body dysmorphia begins for boys—and how tightly it’s woven into toxic masculinity—changed how I thought about which characters should take center stage in a book about body confidence. At first, I imagined the boys in My One-of-a-Kind Body would be background characters, included mostly for representation (a worthy cause on its own). But as I wrote, I realized they were the story. 

The first was Troy—a ten-year-old, large-bodied Black kid from California who plays the clarinet and dreams of becoming a Southern chef using his grandma’s recipes. Then there was Juan—a twelve-year-old, scrawny Latino boy from Texas who lives for football but worries he’ll never measure up.

On the surface, Troy is “too round” and “too soft” to fit society’s idea of health. Juan is “too small” and “too brown.” But Troy’s quiet confidence and emotional awareness remind readers that gentleness and strength can coexist.

Juan’s bravery on the camp ropes course—jumping from the highest platform with every ounce of courage he can muster—shows that real toughness isn’t about size or muscle; it’s about heart. Even though both boys struggle with the same insecurities many kids do, they learn to accept their unique bodies and to care for them with pride and respect.

What Dads Can Do

Dads, your son is watching you. He’s listening to how you talk about your own body and about other people’s bodies. He notices whether you model self-care or self-criticism. He’s learning whether emotional vulnerability feels safe. He’s deciding whether he needs to be “swole” or “ripped” to be enough. 

Every time you expand your own definition of masculinity, you show him that being a man can mean many things—that real men can be kind, funny, creative, and emotional. That taking care of your body means respecting it. That taking care of your heart means letting it open. If your adolescent son wants to lift weights, you don’t necessarily have to discourage him, but you do need to ask him why. Is he trying to get stronger for a sport he loves, or because he feels he’s not enough as he is? When you see him scrolling through influencers with impossible physiques, start the conversation: “How does that make you feel about your body?” When he gravitates toward “tough guys” on screen, talk about what toughness really means. 

Laying the foundation for healthy masculinity starts at home. Talk to your sons. Ask them what it means to be a man. Challenge the answers that sound too narrow. Help them build definitions that make room for all the parts of who they are. And while you’re at it, examine your own relationship with body image, too.

The Lesson I Didn’t Expect

Troy and Juan are more than characters. They’re reminders that the way we talk to boys about their bodies and their feelings shapes not only their self-worth but the kind of men they’ll become. They remind us that body confidence isn’t just for girls, and that boys need mirrors, too, both in books and in their fathers. Because the boys who learn early that “strong” can mean gentle—and that “real men” feel deeply—are the ones who’ll grow up to make this world kinder, healthier, and far more human.

About Dr. Whitney Casares

Dr. Whitney Casares is a board-certified pediatrician, author, and founder of Modern Mommy Doc and Raising Body Confident Kids. Through her clinical expertise and lived experience as a mom, she helps families raise emotionally and physically healthy kids—without falling into the traps of perfectionism or pressure.

Dr. Whitney Casares a two-time American Academy of Pediatrics Author & Spokesperson, and a mom to two young girls in Portland, Oregon.Dr. Casares completed her pediatrics residency training at Stanford University. She also holds a Master of Public Health in Maternal and Child Health from the University of California, Berkeley.

Her upcoming book, My One-of-a-Kind Body, gives children a science-backed, empowering introduction to how their bodies work and why every body is worthy of care and respect. It's part of her larger mission to help families move beyond shame and unrealistic expectations toward real health, compassion, and confidence.