A couple months before the annual formal at my college, two guys announced a weight-loss competition. I was not very good friends with either of them, but I heard all about the ins and outs of their diets and fitness regime; they liked to complain loudly about how bored they were with yogurt and how sore they were from the gym, or expound on the latest nutritional powders and appetite suppressants they’d ordered off eBay. Many of my female friends also reduced their caloric intake in the weeks leading up to the ball, but they did it quietly. You’d have to pay attention to notice they were skipping dessert or going for longer and longer runs.

“It’s hard to grasp,” writes Lauren Bans in a recent essay for The Cut, “just what is so unappealing about someone monitoring her food intake.” But the crucial word there is “her.” As dieting has become more of an equal-opportunity endeavor, it’s actually compounded the pressures placed on women when it comes to consumption. Talking about nutrition—or appearing weight-conscious at all—has become taboo for women, while men feel more and more liberated to embrace and advertise food-related anxieties. Nothing is more humiliating or lonely than being the girl who orders a salad at a burger joint, writes Bans.

Calorie-counting has practically become shorthand for female vanity. It recalls Cher from Clueless whining about the “two bowls of Special K, 3 pieces of turkey bacon, a handful of popcorn, 5 peanut butter M&M's and like 3 pieces of licorice,” that she’s pigged out on. Or Regina George, the villain of Mean Girls, studying nutrition labels in the school cafeteria in an effort to lose three pounds. (Down-to-earth Cady, on the other hand, nonchalantly loads her tray.) Or Emily Blunt’s character from The Devil Wears Prada on her “Paris” diet, which involves eating a cube of cheese when she feels like she’s about to faint. “I'm just one stomach flu away from my goal weight,” she tells decently-sized Anne Hathaway. The Cool Girl, writes Gillian Flynn in Gone Girl, “jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang.”

This down-with-dieting ethos has even made it into the corporate world. Special K partnered with Tyra Banks to launch a campaign called “Fight Fat Talk,” urging women and girls not to use their body issues or diet as conversation topics lest they damage each other’s self-esteem or even trigger an eating disorder. “Fat Talk Free Week,” a national campaign with sponsors like Seventeen and the National Organization for Women, challenges women to go five days without disparaging their bodies in conversation. Women are believed to be hyper-sensitive to “fat talk,” constantly at risk of contracting an eating disorder.

The way the media treats male and female actors who lose weight also reflects this double standard. Men who transform their bodies tend to be celebrated for their dedication to their craft, while women are criticized for glamorizing eating disorders.