In Beauty Sick, Renee Engeln explores how modern society’s fixation on physical appearance quietly erodes self-worth, mental health, and focus.
From magazine covers to social media influencers, we are constantly exposed to idealized bodies and faces that are often unrealistic, heavily edited, surgically altered, or otherwise medically manipulated.
This constant exposure reinforces the message that a certain beauty standard is better and that certain features need to be replaced or fixed.
From an Islamic perspective, this obsession with appearance reflects a deeper imbalance. Islam does not deny beauty. The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ said, “Allah is Beautiful and loves beauty.”
However, Islam draws a clear boundary between appreciating beauty and allowing it to become the foundation of identity. When physical appearance becomes central, it distracts from purpose, character, and inner stability.
The Qur’an reminds us that human worth is not rooted in form or status, but in consciousness and conduct.
One of the strongest insights in Beauty Sick is how beauty obsession narrows a person’s life through constant comparison and self-surveillance.
When attention is repeatedly directed toward how one looks, it pulls energy away from creativity, relationships, learning, and service. Islam counters this by anchoring identity in one’s relationship with Allah rather than public approval.
This grounding reduces the anxiety created by ever-shifting beauty standards and external validation.
On a personal level, this book made me reflect on how much of my life before Islam was shaped by vanity and in an exhausting habit of self-monitoring, a mindset I absorbed early on from my environment growing up.
I spent a lot of mental energy thinking about how I looked, how I was perceived, and whether my appearance matched the image I felt pressured to maintain.
It was tiring in ways I didn’t fully recognize at the time. Embracing Islam helped shift that focus.
Covering my beauty removed a layer of constant performance I hadn’t realized I was carrying. Instead of centering my value around how my body and face looked.
I began placing more attention on my inner state, my character, my intentions, and how I show up in the world.
Letting go of that ongoing concern with appearance didn’t make me care less, it made me feel lighter.
It created space to elevate what actually lasts.
The writer also highlights how unrealistic beauty standards contribute to mental health struggles such as body dissatisfaction, BDD and disordered eating.
Islam addresses this indirectly but clearly through its emphasis on balance and moderation.
The body is something to care for without neglect and without obsession. Care without fixation. Attention without self-surveillance.
Another practical takeaway that aligns with both the book and Islamic principles is being intentional about influence.
Islam encourages guarding what we consume, not only in food, but in imagery, messaging, and comparison-driven environments.
Limiting exposure to influencers that make you feel insecure is very important, unfollowing accounts that trigger comparison, and surrounding oneself with people who uplift rather than criticize can support a healthier relationship with yourself.
Ultimately, Beauty Sick names a cultural illness that many people feel but struggle to articulate.
From an Islamic perspective, the solution is not rooted in chasing self-love as an identity, but in restoring proper placement. Beauty can be appreciated and cared for, but it was never meant to define a person’s worth.
When beauty is no longer the center of life, attention expands, the heart steadies, and identity becomes grounded in something far more lasting.
Honestly, Vanessa 