Stretch marks are natural. So why does the beauty industry keep trying to fix them?

An online search for ’stretch marks’ returns with a familiar pattern. Page after page promises correction, prevention or removal. A Google Trends analysis shows that the most commonly searched queries around stretch marks over the past two decades include “stretch marks cream”, “how to get rid of stretch marks”, and “stretch marks removal”.

This pattern reflects conformity rather than curiosity. The search ecosystem assumes that stretch marks do not belong on skin, even though their appearance is one of the body’s most common biological processes. 

Reports suggest that approximately 90 per cent of women develop stretch marks at some point in their lives. Several public figures have attempted to challenge the stigma around stretch marks, including Padma Lakshmi, Sameera Reddy, Sonam Kapoor, and Bhumi Pednekar. Their attempts to normalise visible changes to the skin have made room for conversation, yet the embarrassment attached to stretch markspersists.

Stretch marks and the business of fixing skin 

The relationship between stretch marks and the urge to ‘fix’ has always been intertwined. Creams, lotions, oils, butters, and dermatological procedures dominate the conversation. As a result, the market for anti-stretch mark products in India is poised to cross the $100 million-mark by 2023, and touch $113.9 million at a compound annual growth rate of 5.4 per cent.  

This connection isn’t accidental. The commercial ecosystem relies on selling solutions to something that is largely a biological inevitability. Statistics indicate that 76 per cent of women would consider using products marketed to reduce stretch marks, reflecting how deeply the conditioning has embedded itself in beauty culture.

“I was, perhaps, in grade four when I first noticed pink and white lines on my belly,” says body positivity and mental health advocate Anshula Kapoor. “I recall thinking I had somehow injured myself, not realising what those lines actually were.” 

“In the 1990s and 2000s, it was always something women preferred hiding, something to be ashamed of. Every magazine just showed flawless, photoshopped skin; so, if you didn’t have that, it gave rise to a feeling of being’‘less than.’” 

For many people, the emotional response to stretch marks begins long before the science is understood.

Creator Prableen Kaur Bhomrah, notes that stretch marks were never introduced as a natural feature of skin, but a “problem” to correct. Model and artist Roshini Kumar recalls the distress she experienced when stretch marks first appeared on her thighs and stomach. “As someone who was already bullied for being bigger, stretch marks really brought a sense of disgust and shame,” she says. “Additionally, advertisements constantly told us that stretch marks were something to get rid of.” 

The broader ecosystem of body culture reinforced the message. Celebrity bodies were scrutinised online, and visible stretch marks were treated as imperfections. 

“When you grow up seeing and hearing about fixes to prevent or remove stretch marks, it automatically makes you feel like they are something bad that needs fixing,” adds content creator Kripa Patel Joshi.

The science behind stretch marks

There isn’t an exact moment when stretch marks earned a bad reputation, but it became a growing concern as the different sectors of media, popular culture, and the beauty industry set unrealistic standards. Since stretch marks didn’t fit the smooth, polished, and perfect skin’s archetype, it quickly became a ‘flaw’.

Celebrity dermatologist Dr Jasihree Sharad explains that stretch marks are a form of dermal scarring caused by structural disruption of collagen and elastin within the skin. “Stretch marks occur through a combination of mechanical, hormonal, and genetic factors. Mechanical stretching, rapid skin expansion causing tearing and remodelling of dermal collagen and elastin, hormonal influences, increased corticosteroids that reduce fibroblast activity, or collagen synthesis, can all contribute to the formation of stretch marks.”

Genetics also play a substantial role. In a report released by 23andMe, a US-based DNA data-testing company, scientists identified 544 genetic markers associated with stretch marks. Another study revealed that 70.5 per cent of individuals with stretch marks have a family history of developing them. 

“WHEN YOU GROW UP SEEING AND HEARING ABOUT FIXES TO PREVENT OR REMOVE STRETCH MARKS, IT AUTOMATICALLY MAKES YOU FEEL LIKE THEY ARE SOMETHING BAD THAT NEEDS FIXING” –– Kripa Patel Joshi 

Melanin content may also influence prevalence. Some research suggests that stretch marks occur more frequently among women of colour as compared to white populations. 

Besides genetic predisposition, not having an adequate amount of proteins—collagen and elastin—in the body, could also manifest as stretch marks on the skin. 

Stretch marks and the politics of body judgment 

For long enough, people have been coaxed into believing that stretch marks appear only on bigger bodies. “I think that belief still exists today, of associating stretch marks with becoming ‘fat’. That’s an incomplete way of looking at it,” says Kapoor. “They can form when skin stretches or shrinks quickly, and appear as the skin heals. I got some stretch marks because I had a growth spurt and grew taller by several inches rather quickly. I got some others when I gained weight, and then some more during my countless attempts at losing weight.” 

Growth spurts, weight fluctuations and hormonal changes are all common triggers.“Skin has this incredible ability to expand and contract at different stages of your life,” adds Kapoor. “Why is that something to hide or be ashamed of?”

Social media scrutiny can intensify this judgement further. Creator Niki Mehra Madan describes how online commentary altered her relationship with stretch marks. “I first noticed my stretch marks at 19, when I lost a lot of weight very quickly,” she says. “They didn’t affect me emotionally until a few years later, when I started wearing bikinis and putting myself out there.. In a comment on one such post, someone pointed it out like it was a ‘defect’ I needed to fix. Plus, seeing hyper-perfect bodies everywhere made me question my own, even though nothing was really wrong.”

When health conditions amplify the stigma

The emotional and mental agony can multiply when stretch marks show up as a direct or indirect consequence of a health condition. 

If a diagnosis of Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS) wasn’t daunting enough for Kaur Bhomrah in her teenage years, the appearance of stretch marks added an emotional shock. 

“IN THE 1990S AND 2000S, IT WAS ALWAYS SOMETHING WOMEN PREFERRED HIDING, SOMETHING TO BE ASHAMED OF. EVERY MAGAZINE JUST SHOWED FLAWLESS, PHOTOSHOPPED SKIN; SO, IF YOU DIDN’T HAVE THAT, IT GAVE RISE TO A FEELING OF BEING’‘LESS THAN’”–– Anshula Kapoor  

“During weight fluctuations and hormonal shifts, I was put on birth control pills, which caused my body to change drastically. Some spots eventually turned into many stretch marks,” she says. “I wasn’t shocked because they hurt, but because I had been conditioned to believe they weren’t supposed to be there at all. When I got stretch marks, the fear of being judged was real.”

Postpartum bodies experience similar scrutiny. “It is already such a vulnerable phase, and seeing those changes can make you question your body,” says Patel Joshi. 

Stretch marks and the gender gap

Another misconception is that stretch marks are exclusively a women’s issue. Research suggests that 25 per cent of the male population, and 40 per cent of adolescent boys are susceptible to stretch marks, often during growth spurts or muscle development. 

Yet, advertising continues to position stretch marks treatmentprimarily toward women—partly because stretch marks are seen as a natural extension of pregnancy, and partly because the market reflects historical targeting patterns in the skincare industry rather than medical necessity. Dermatologist Dr Madhuri Agarwal explains that the biological process remains identical regardless of gender. “When the dermis is stretched past its capacity, collagen and elastin fibres break.” 

This discrepancy hasn’t just manipulated the visuals and language of advertisements, but also stunted the right information tailored to men from reaching them. 

The need to normalise stretch marks 

A cultural shift around stretch marks may require something subtler than just celebration. About 48.7 per cent of women report feeling ashamed or embarrassed of stretch marks. For 36.3 per cent, stretch marks trigger anxiety or depressive feelings. For others, the impact is practical and emotional, and more than a quarter believe stretch marks affect the quality of life. Many say the marks influence the clothes they choose to wear. 

For something so biologically common, stretch marks carry an outsized emotional burden. Condemned for decades through beauty standards and advertising, they remain framed as flaws rather than ordinary features of skin. The real anomaly is not the marks themselves, but the stigma built around them.  

“I WASN’T SHOCKED BECAUSE THEY HURT, BUT BECAUSE I HAD BEEN CONDITIONED TO BELIEVE THEY WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE THERE AT ALL” –– Prableen Kaur Bhomrah

For Mehra Madan, the most effective approach is simple representation. “To see real skin—casually, confidently,” she says. “There’s no need to zoom into it like it’s a campaign statement, but also don’t blur it out. The more normally we treat stretch marks, the less power they have.” 

When you never see something represented, it begins to feel as thought it shouldn’t exist. “That lack of visibility creates unnecessary shame around something completely natural,” adds Moorjani. 

Visible, ordinary representation may be one of the simplest ways to shift the narrative around stretch marks.

“I remember being told by a well-meaning aunty that, perhaps, I should consider a laser removal procedure as stretch marks are unflattering,” shares Kapoor. “When these not-so-friendly jabs became too much, I think it angered me just enough to go to the other extreme—to not hide them. We don’t see too many people in popular culture or media being nonchalant about their stretch marks. But when I made the conscious choice to be myself on my social media, I didn’t bother hiding them or going to great lengths to showcase them. Just like I have a nose, two eyes, some beauty spots or acne, I have stretch marks. So if they’re visible because I choose to wear something that makes me happy, so be it.”

Destigmatising stretch marks also requires a degree of scepticism toward the products designed to remove them. “The skin has already stretched; how is a topical product going to ‘remove’ those marks?” says Kumar. “There are no guaranteed treatments or products that can drastically erase them,” adds Agarwal. The cycle is familiar: insecurities are identified, solutions are marketed, and the premise that stretch marks require correction quietly sustains itself.

Letting stretch marks exist

Widespread representation of runedited skin across magazines, on billboards, and screens could help disrupt this narrative, says Kumar, though the commercial logic of the beauty industry rarely rewards such realism. 

Yet conversations around stretch marks continue to grow through creators, artists, and individuals choosing not to conceal them.

“Talking about stretch marks openly felt like reclaiming power,” says Kaur Bhomrah. “Not pretending they don’t exist, but refusing to apologise for them.” Stretch marks are embedded in the genetic and structural framework of skin, the body’s largest organ and its primary protective barrier. 

They do not require romantic labels such as “battle scars”. Nor do they require correction.  They simply exist, whether the beauty industry acknowledges them or not.