(Jenna Olsen/The Dalhousie Gazette)
(Jenna Olsen/The Dalhousie Gazette)

The bizarre looksmaxxing trend

Peptide products have gone mainstream

For the chronically online, looksmaxxing and mogging might be familiar phrases. Yet, the iceberg contains more than just the popular vernacular that floats to the top. Below the fads lie dangerous pseudoscience, kooky influencers and drop-shipped injectables. 

A quick history: looksmaxxing started on incel discussion boards during the 2010s where men would discuss how to make themselves more attractive to women. In these communities, looksmaxxers discuss attractiveness as a set of “scientific” rules, like the angle of your eyes (the canthal tilt), proportion of your features (projected and recessed upper maxilla), and relativity to thinness. 

Individuals rated themselves on numerical scales, with those who fall on the lower end advised to ‘ropemaxx’ (slang for hanging oneself) and those on the higher end deemed Gigachads (the ultimate man). After being co-opted by mainstream internet users around 2021, looksmaxxing entered the mainstream algorithm as no more than a joke. 

Enter: Clavicular and the resurgence of unironic looksmaxxing. The 20-year-old influencer has notoriously engaged in dangerous, self-harming behaviours in attempts to reach “True Adam” status. Alongside bonesmashing attempts to reshape his bone structure through brute force, he has been extremely vocal about the various injectables he takes. 

This caught my attention. What were the side effects of these injections? What were they? How did they even circulate?

Enter peptides: strings of molecules known as the “building blocks” of proteins — naturally present in foods and many supplements. Peptides are also known as the “P” in GLP-1, a class of diabetes and obesity drugs, the most famous of which is Ozempic.

However, concentrated versions of peptides are circulating through the looksmaxxing community. These drugs are not federally regulated, and are commonly drop-shipped from third-party providers, meaning what exactly is in these “peptide” concoctions is unknown. 

How do they circulate if they’re illegal? Some peptides can be acquired from compounding pharmacies. These suppliers are able to ‘compound’ medication based on bulk ingredient lists and prepare them onsite, as opposed to most pharmacies that supply pre-manufactured drugs. 

Peptides are also frequently sold online under the guise of not being for human consumption or labelled as ‘for research purposes,’ allowing manufacturers to bypass stringent regulations and ship out to customers.  

Looksmaxxing posterchild, Clavicular recently began advertising Arcane peptides, which are for “research use only/not for human consumption,” according to the website in his Instagram bio. 

The problem with peptide injections is not the peptides themselves. Because they are not regulated or cleared for on (or off) label use, there’s no way to confirm what you’re actually injecting into your bloodstream. Possible side effects could include allergic reactions, hormonal disruptions and potentially death. 

Peptides are advertised as magic bullets. Influencers, like Clavicular, boast about how they improve focus, accelerate metabolism and promote longevity. 

These claims are hyperbolic and aim to prey upon the insecurities of their followers. Users are made into test lab rats to test the latest grift. Some things can’t be outsourced; personal growth shouldn’t be sold as an injectable, rather it should come from within. 

With files from The Argus/Canadian University Press

Sara Stoppel

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