The Super Bowl Mirror: What We’re Being Sold About Ourselves

Every year, Super Bowl ads act like a cultural mirror. They don’t just sell products. They quietly reveal what we value, what we’re afraid of, and what we’re trying to fix about ourselves.

This year, one theme stood above everything else.

Weight loss drugs.

Before anyone gets defensive, let me be very clear. I want to do this the right way. Think of this like a hamburger. There’s a positive, a negative, and then the reality in the middle.

The Positive: I Want People Healthy

First things first. I am pro people getting in shape. I am pro people feeling confident in their bodies. I am pro people doing whatever they need to do to take the first step toward a healthier life.

Some of the ads actually did a decent job acknowledging this. The DJ Khaled commercial, for example, made a point to say these drugs should be paired with movement, fitness, and lifestyle changes. That matters.

For some people, these drugs can be a door. A starting point. A moment where something finally clicks.

I’m not here to judge that.

But now we need to talk honestly about the concept behind it.

The Concept We Can’t Ignore

I’ve struggled with drugs for a large portion of my life. This perspective doesn’t come from judgment. It comes from lived experience.

I used drugs because I didn’t like my self-image.

I used heroin to escape my body.

I used Adderall to suppress my appetite.

I used substances to control how I looked and how I felt.

So when I see weight loss drugs being marketed everywhere, I can’t help but think about it conceptually.

Really think about it.

You are taking a pill every day to suppress your appetite.

Or injecting yourself once a week.

Or once a day.

For what?

To eat less.

To lose weight.

To feel better about how you look.

Again, no judgment. Just observation.

We are using a substance to change our relationship with food, our body, and our self-image.

That should make us pause.

This Is Not a Cure. It’s a Door.

Here’s the part that matters most.

Weight loss drugs are not a cure.

They are not a solution.

They are not an identity fix.

They are not self-worth.

They are a door.

A door to education.

A door to movement.

A door to learning how nutrition actually works.

A door to understanding your habits, your triggers, your lifestyle.

If someone walks through that door and starts lifting weights, moving their body, learning how to fuel themselves, building discipline and confidence, that can be powerful.

But if someone believes the drug is the solution, that’s where things get dangerous.

Because eventually the drug stops.

Or the body adapts.

Or the prescription ends.

And if nothing else has changed, you’re left right where you started.

Why This Ties Into Gambling and AI

This is where the bigger picture comes in.

Weight loss drugs, gambling, and artificial intelligence all share the same psychological thread.

They promise efficiency.

They promise shortcuts.

They promise faster outcomes with less friction.

Gambling turns money into dopamine.

Weight loss drugs turn appetite into chemistry.

AI turns effort into automation.

None of these are inherently bad.

But all of them become dangerous when they replace personal responsibility instead of supporting it.

Gambling is fun until it becomes emotional regulation.

AI is powerful until it replaces thinking.

Weight loss drugs help until they replace learning.

The problem isn’t the tool.

The problem is dependency.

The Bigger Cultural Shift

What unsettled me most about this year’s ads wasn’t any single product. It was what they collectively suggested.

We are increasingly uncomfortable sitting with ourselves.

So we numb.

We automate.

We suppress.

We outsource.

Instead of asking deeper questions like:

Why do I eat this way?

Why do I feel disconnected from my body?

Why do I avoid movement?

Why don’t I trust myself to do hard things?

Those questions are uncomfortable.

They require effort.

They require time.

Drugs, apps, and algorithms offer something much easier.

Creativity, Risk, and Losing the Edge

This also explains why so many ads felt flat.

When culture becomes obsessed with optimization, creativity suffers. Risk disappears. Everything becomes safe, polished, and sterile.

The same thing is happening in music, entertainment, and media.

Great art comes from friction.

From discomfort.

From risk.

But friction is the very thing we’re trying to eliminate.

The Point I Keep Coming Back To

I don’t hate weight loss drugs.

I don’t hate gambling.

I don’t hate artificial intelligence.

I hate the idea that we’re being taught to avoid the work that actually builds confidence, identity, and purpose.

There is no pill for self-respect.

There is no injection for discipline.

There is no algorithm for meaning.

Those things are earned.

If weight loss drugs open a door for someone to start showing up for themselves, I’m all for it.

But if we forget that the real work starts after the door opens, we’re missing the point entirely.

And maybe that’s what this year’s Super Bowl ads revealed more than anything else.

Not what we’re buying.

But what we’re trying to avoid.