Credit: Jennifer Hudson show
Bebe Rexha wasn’t the first to bring up the subject of her weight. Seldom does it. Screenshots, TikTok pauses, and remarks that seem casual to the writer and radioactive to the recipient were how it started, as it frequently does these days. Then it continued, even louder than the songs.
Rexha hasn’t kept the numbers a secret. Thirty pounds. Perhaps a bit more. She discussed it on TV, explaining how her polycystic ovary syndrome diagnosis changed everything, including hormones, appetite, and the rate at which her body stored food. She wasn’t looking for pity. Although she appeared to be describing the weather, the forecast was inside of her.
| Bio | Bebe Rexha (born August 30, 1989), American singer-songwriter |
|---|---|
| Background | Raised in New York, Albanian heritage, early songwriter before solo career |
| Career highlights | “Me, Myself & I,” “I’m Good (Blue),” “Meant to Be,” Grammy nominations |
| Reference | People.com |
PCOS is prevalent and frequently misdiagnosed. Physicians refer to it as one of the main reasons why women gain weight, but terms like “leading cause” don’t adequately capture the sensation of your body overpowering your will. Rexha talked about how quickly it happened, how shocked she was, and how it felt like she didn’t recognize the person blinking back when she looked in the mirror.
There were predictable divisions in the public’s reaction. Naturally, she received support from fans who said she looked amazing and insisted she was still the “bad bitch” she has always portrayed herself as. However, there was also ugly stuff. Strangers bravely hiding behind avatars implied that she had “let herself go” and that she might be fixed by discipline.
She had heard variations of that conversation growing up. People close to her warned her that she would need to get in “boot camp shape”—as if the job were basic training—when she first signed a record deal. The body became necessary. There were requirements for success.
The deal was rearranged by her diagnosis. The math changed over night. She could gain like a caricature and eat like a human. Even if she worked out regularly, her weight would still be moving in the wrong direction. In a video that she posted, she talks about going to urgent care after a cyst burst because the pain was so intense that she believed a catastrophic event had occurred. That also made the news.
She read aloud a text message that appeared to be from her ex-partner, pointing out that she had put on thirty-five pounds. This was the moment that many people found memorable. It was presented as sincerity, wrapped in love, and laced with rationale. The internet went crazy. There were those who supported him. Some referred to it as cruel. Rexha broke the quiet agreement that celebrities frequently make to just put up with it and smile by sharing it anyhow.
She almost missed the MTV Video Music Awards earlier in 2023. Not due to illness or schedule conflicts. due to nervousness. She claimed that she didn’t feel like herself and that she wasn’t prepared to have every inch of her body photographed and then have comments appear beneath it. The red carpet suddenly appeared like a gauntlet for a performer accustomed to large crowds.
A few weeks later, she discussed PCOS on daytime television. When she said that we should stop discussing people’s weight, the studio audience applauded. Although she grinned, it didn’t seem like a victory lap. Given the demands of the position, it appeared as though the person had practiced resilience. I recall being taken aback at the time by how tiny her voice sounded in relation to the background noise.
Her career continued to grow. She went on tours. She penned. She appeared on carpets wearing unrepentant gowns. She shared TikToks about feeling stronger than ever, portraying her size as a current aspect of who she is rather than a phase that needs to be fixed. Depending on who heard it, the term “fat era” sounded different—joking to some, defiant to others—but the joke had a deeper meaning. She was taking back the role of author.
The disparity in the expectations is what stands out. Male artists are not always in style. Actors are commended for their dedication when they discuss “bulking for a role.” The discourse became more focused for Rexha, as all intricacies were directed through the body. Her voice, which literally launched her career, occasionally felt like a supporting role.
Her diagnosis complicates the typical celebrity narrative about transformation, wellness, and fitness. PCOS makes weight loss extremely difficult, interferes with cycles, and complicates metabolism. According to her, even rigorous diets and regular exercise don’t produce much movement. Hashtags are not negotiable under this condition.
There are remnants of something older here, such as the long-standing advice to women in entertainment to shrink to fit. Ironically, Rexha’s appeal has always been characterized by a certain grandeur: large choruses, large hooks, and an almost theatrical assurance. Songs don’t get smaller when the body gets smaller.
She has also retaliated with the microphone. She cautions viewers not to assume they know what someone is carrying during interviews. That TikTok comment that eats up your afternoon might end up on someone who is already juggling pain, medicine, and a personal list of adverse effects. The public frequently arrives late for that portion.
She once said something that sounded more like a tired truth than a catchphrase: it does mess with you. Not break, not ruin. However, mess. Because the criticism comes as repetition rather than a debate. The same jab, but with a different wording, keeps coming up until it begins to reverberate.
She has continued to be cautious about her obligations to others. Every morning, she doesn’t act as though she loves her reflection. She doesn’t promote body positivity as a product. There are better days. Certain dresses have a certain feel. Certain angles make you feel like someone else. It seems like we don’t always give public figures the honesty to admit that tension.
Gaining weight isn’t a story with a happy ending, especially when it’s connected to PCOS. It’s a tale of management. Physicians, blood tests, dietary changes, exhaustion, sudden pain, and occasionally the humiliation of having to explain it again. The calendar doesn’t give a damn, so the career goes on.
When she changed the way she addressed her fans, it was a subtle turning point. More boundaries, less explanation. Don’t apologize as much. More steel-edged humor. She continues to talk about wanting recognition for writing songs that stuck in summers and on dance floors, rather than for surviving criticism. Maybe that’s the point—that longing seems distinct from the weight talk.
Because culture teaches us that access entails evaluation, Rexha’s body has gained attention. The instinct is accelerated by social media. A freeze-frame turns into a decision. A candid becomes content for anonymous critics. Although she is not alone in navigating that change, she has made the decision to be honest about how deeply it can cut.
If you take a step back, her weight gain isn’t the more intriguing story. It’s because she insisted on being visible the entire time. While touring, posing, and laughing, she must deal with a medical diagnosis that demands uncomfortable realities. Human bodies undergo changes. Rarely does public opinion move as fast.
While readjusting, some artists vanish. Rexha didn’t. She made a post. She made the correction. She planted a flag by transforming hurt into commentary and occasionally into jokes. Although the level of scrutiny remained constant, the balance of power slightly shifted. She became adept at telling her own story.