I tried the AI photo app everyone was using. As someone with a history of disordered body image, it was very triggering to see the results. (2024)

When the pictures came through, I was shocked.

I don't look anything like them

The first batch of photos looked like paintings and were called "stylish." Most of them looked like Jennifer Lawrence circa "The Hunger Games" trilogy.

One, though, was particularly striking. The figure was slouching in a chair, and you could see her entire torso and crossed legs. Her unnaturally long, toneless arms stretched out in a diamond, mirroring her tiny, hourglass waist. Her slender face looked dead serious, and her collar and chest bones stood out. Her breasts were nearly falling out of a red strapless top.

I look nothing like this. None of my reference photos showed more than the tops of my shoulders. None showed my collarbone. Clearly, the robot overlords thought I wanted to see myself this way: model-thin, sexualized, and miserable. They did warn us that heroin chic was back.

I scrolled. The "fairy-princess" ones looked most like me in terms of my face shape, but the collarbone still jutted out, and my face was longer than it is in real life. One of the "pop" headshots showed someone who looked like a strung-out, exhausted version of me, complete with that collarbone again.

I have a history of disordered body image

In seventh grade, I was too thin, with toneless arms and a fear of eating in front of people. I spent years obsessing over my body and food. I am now learning about intuitive eating and trying very hard to surround myself in my real life and social-media circles with positive role models when it comes to body image and anti-diet culture.

All I wanted was to see what I looked like as "cosmic," "iridescent," and "fantasy" characters — other categories in my Lensa pack.

Instead, I'm sent back to memories of myself at 12: lonely, hungry, anxious, and terrified. I'm angry that this app took a photo of my face and changed its shape, stretching it until it was unrecognizable, and made up a fake body to go with it.

I'm worried about how young people and people who are not in eating-disorder recovery are interpreting or internalizing their results. I'm glad my kids aren't old enough to have access to this technology but know it's only a matter of time.

I know others have pointed out Lensa makes changes like removing a double chin. These types of modifications seem to seek to render people a more "socially acceptable" version of themselves that doesn't reflect who they actually are. Actual works of art show body diversity, thank you very much.

While I was looking for a fantasy and did expect some augmentation, I still wanted to see myself in the end product, and I did not need to see bones sticking out in each one.