I’m delighted. I’m more confident. I’m upbeat. I’m grateful.
And I’m 26 pounds lighter than I was three months ago, thanks to the new world of weight-loss drugs — my “skinny shots.”
I’m thrilled with the results, and I’m not ashamed to give all the credit to the makers of Mounjaro rather than my own willpower or workout regimen.
But I’m confused.
What’s with the negativity and judgment these medications have injected into a world obsessed with weight and appearance?
Overweight people have forever been stigmatized, criticized, bullied and blamed. For being lazy, for overeating, for taking up too much space — in airplane rows, movie theaters, the world in general.
But when a medical advancement initially created to treat diabetes also makes it possible — even easy — for people to lose weight, live longer and improve their existence, they’re criticized, stigmatized and quietly judged for using it? What’s the deal?
Must weight-loss be arduous, faltering and time-consuming to be “real?”
Can we even recognize what’s real?
Social media has made photo filters, lip fillers and fake teeth the new norm. So-called influencers sport dental veneers that cost $1,000 per tooth. They post and boast about their latest cosmetic procedures — nose jobs, eyebrow lifts, Botox, lip fillers and new boobs. Interestingly, many of them often end their commentary by telling their followers to love themselves, but if changing something would make them happier, then do it.
“‘Every cosmetic procedure has just gone crazy in popularity since Instagram became a thing,’ Michael Apa, an aesthetic dentist with a quarter-million Instagram followers himself, told The Atlantic’s Amanda Mull in 2019.
And yet, many of the same influencers and their followers dismiss the new weight-loss tools as cheating — while they appear on camera with colored contact lenses, hair extensions, a surgically smaller nose, lip fillers, fake eyelashes and teeth as straight and white as, well, Congress.
So, yeah, let’s get real. Let’s stop with the mean-girl speculation, the knowing looks and catty posts — all because someone looks, and likely feels, healthier, happier and just better?
“Oh my gosh, I haven’t seen you in ages. You look fantastic….” (then leans in conspiratorially). “You’re doing the shots, right?”
Why thank you, and yes, I am. Of course, you could’ve stopped at, “you look fantastic,” but that wouldn’t have been satisfying for you, would it? That wouldn’t have made you feel better about yourself. Because apparently you deserve to look and feel good about yourself. But me? Apparently not.
Come on. There’s enough nastiness in the world.
My weight gain started about nine years ago, when I broke both ankles at the same time and was laid up for months. After that, inertia kicked in. The older I got, the harder it was to overcome and the longer it took to get any results.
I knew I had gained weight, and I hated it. I stood in the back for photos. I didn’t smile widely, knowing how big my face would appear. I looked wistfully at old pictures of a thinner me in clothes I adored.
So in May, when two friends started chatting after a work event (and several drinks) about the weight-loss shots, I was all ears. Two months later, when they had each lost at least 10 pounds, I was all in.
I made an appointment with Erin Kane at New You Health Clinic, got the required blood work, then endured Erin’s scale, tape measure and body fat calculator.
I got my first shot on July 24. As of Oct. 13, I’ve lost 26 pounds.
Risk vs. Reward
Don’t tell me, skinny people, that your judgment comes from a good place, that you’re “concerned about the health risks” these drugs — Ozempic, Wegovy, Mounjaro — may pose to the overweight people you’ve disparaged for decades.
Yes, as with everything, there are risks, and doctors admit the long-term effects of these drugs are still unknown. But they don’t deny the effectiveness that has surprised even them.
Some people have more trouble than others with side effects — nausea, vomiting, constipation, diarrhea. The literature is clear about potential gallbladder issues for people predisposed to them. And about 1% of users have had serious medical complications. So yes, questions remain. But hell, I moved to Key West two months after graduating college. I ingested (never injected) way sketchier substances at after-hours parties throughout my 20s.
My only complaint about these new medications, which were created and approved to treat type 2 diabetes by lowering glucose levels, is they remain prohibitively expensive for too many people.
Insurance, for those fortunate enough to have it, covers much of the cost IF you’re diabetic. But if, like me, you’re just fluffy, then you’re on our own — and on the hook for about $325 a month. Of course, it sounds better when I tell my husband, Stan, it’s $80 a week. But thankfully, he’s been hugely supportive while assuring me I’ll always look great to him.
For diabetes, the drugs help control blood sugar. But they also slow digestion and make people feel fuller for longer.
Ozempic and Wegovy are semaglutide, belonging to “a class of medications known as glucagon-like peptide-1 (GLP-1) receptor agonists,” according to the U.S. Food & Drug Administration. “It mimics the GLP-1 hormone that is released in the gastrointestinal tract in response to eating. One role of GLP-1 is to prompt the body to produce more insulin, which reduces blood glucose (sugar). GLP-1 in higher amounts also interacts with the parts of the brain that reduce appetite and signal a feeling of fullness.”
Mounjaro, a bit differently, activates the receptors for both the GLP-1 hormone and the glucose-dependent insulinotropic polypeptide (GIP), both of which are involved in blood sugar control for diabetic,” the FDA reports. Many of the diabetic people in the clinical trials were also obese, and the medications proved not only to help control blood sugar, but also led to significant weight loss.
I typically eat one meal a day now. Late-night frozen pizzas hold no allure. Protein is crucial and I’m a bit more conscious of the foods I choose. A morning smoothie with a protein shot has replaced my McDonald’s breakfasts. (But I did, last week, indulge in some Baconator Fries from Wendy’s.) As soon as the weather cools, I’m planning evening walks and jogs.
Most importantly, I feel so much better — on so many levels. And that’s all that should matter. It’s all that matters to me.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go whiten my teeth and wriggle into my Spanx.
