Jamie Korf

Most of us didn’t grow up thinking we were dieting. We just thought we were doing what we were supposed to. Coming of age in the ’90s and 2000s, as any Gen X or millennial woman can attest, was like a fever dream: Diet culture was thriving (hello, fat-free food fads), the tabloids glorified size-zero bodies, and unforgiving low-rise denim defined the era.

Somewhere along the way, we normalized chronic exhaustion—and our bodies have been keeping the score ever since. For years, being tired was like a badge of honor, a by-product of a culture where productivity became a virtue in itself. It signaled that we were showing up: for work, for family, for ambition, for obligation. Sleep felt negotiable, like something we could simply borrow from without consequence.

Flu season has a way of fading into the background—until it doesn’t. Come February and March, many people assume the worst is behind us, or that the annual shot matters less if they missed the fall window or heard the vaccine isn’t a “perfect match” this year. But influenza doesn’t follow a neat calendar, and the details of any given season matter more than the headlines. To add context—and cut through some of the noise—we turned to Dr. Patricia A.