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I Tried Weight-Loss Drugs. Here's What Happened
It follows many years of intense body shame.
I’m not obese or diabetic, but I have spent the past 50 years being a champion fighter in the battle of the bulge. I started dieting at the ripe old age of six when I decided that my fleshy thighs were unacceptable next to the rail-thin legs of my friends. So, while everyone else was chowing down on Ho-Hos and Twinkies, I was eating rice cakes covered in carob. It wasn’t pretty.
My parents, both from robust Eastern European stock, were always dieting, and Atkins and Weight Watchers became the lingua franca of my childhood. Every morning, I’d step on the scale and dutifully write down the findings in my diary, which was also filled with food logs and calorie counts. My mood for the day would hinge on whether the scale had gone up or down, and yet, I repeated the unpleasant ritual every morning.
Like many Gen-X women, one lesson I took away from the women’s magazines that I pored over was that my chubby body was unacceptable. With exercise (hello Jane Fonda and Richard Simmons!), a dose of willpower, and a low-fat diet, I, too, could have a thigh gap like Christie Brinkley.
Alas, that never happened. Instead, I suffered through dressing room meltdowns, SlimFast, disordered eating and years of intense body shame.
Eventually, in my late 30s, I learned how to eat more intuitively and (mostly) steered clear of the scale and fad diets. I was always about 10 pounds more than my “ideal weight,” that arbitrary number that got lodged in my psyche as a young adult, but I was mostly okay with it.
After going through menopause at 50, I was still able to keep my weight stable thanks to lots of movement and careful eating. And my cholesterol numbers and blood sugar thankfully remained within the “normal” range. That was, until recently, after a long trip abroad.
A wake-up call
When I got home, I stepped on the scale for the first time in months and gasped. The number was the highest it had ever been. I couldn’t zip my jeans, and even my shoes felt tighter. I’m only 5 feet tall, so even a few pounds can look and feel like a lot.
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Seeing myself on Zoom sent me into a shame spiral, and the cheekbones I’d always had disappeared.
But even more concerning was that my bloodwork showed elevated triglycerides, and I was “pre-diabetic.” Something had to be done.
I’d fought my weight my whole life, and now there was a medication that could actually help. Was I going to let judgment (of myself or from others) or pride get in the way?
I worried that by taking the medicine, I was taking “the easy way out,” even though I knew that was ridiculous. Eventually, self-empathy kicked in, and I decided to go for it. Once I’d decided to move forward, I felt hopeful for the first time in ages.
I dove into research, read everything I could get my hands on about GLPs, and talked to a good friend who has been on one for years to get the inside scoop.
My first stop was an online pharmacy that, with a quick telehealth visit, medical history review, and a questionnaire, filled a prescription for Zepbound. About a week after the initial consult, a big insulated box with four tiny vials, syringes, and alcohol wipes landed on my doorstep.
I was nervous and excited, and of course worried about some of the common side effects like nausea, constipation and diarrhea, not to mention some of the more serious side effects that I’ve read about.
I gave myself my first injection on a Sunday in case I had a bad reaction. It felt strange to be stabbing my stomach with a needle, but the only thing that happened was that a few hours later, I didn’t feel hungry when I usually would be.
I assumed it was the placebo effect because it worked so quickly. What I discovered is that it can kick in anywhere from a few hours to a few days, depending on your body and whatever mood the GLP gods are in.
Since I’m paying out of pocket for an expensive medication, I’m even more mindful of what I’m eating and how much I’m moving. I’ve upped my protein and cut back on carbs. Egg bites made with high-protein cottage cheese have become a staple. Fiber and water are non-negotiable. I’ve increased weight training and eased up on treadmill slogs.
And miracle of miracles, it’s working. I’ve lost several pounds, which for me is a lot. It used to take me weeks to lose a single pound. Another benefit is that my desire for alcohol, which wasn’t much to begin with, has also decreased. So long, empty wine calories.
My energy levels have increased, and my mood is better, which could be because I’m losing weight or something else. Either way, I’ll take it. Yes, there have been a few unpleasant minor side effects, including an initial bout of constipation, but nothing that a good fiber supplement and some bran cereal couldn’t fix.
After half a century of trying to outsmart my body, it feels liberating to stop muscling through and accept a little help. I want to get back to where I was before that recent jump on the scale and those concerning lab results. Losing a few pounds has been great, and for the first time in ages, I don’t feel like Sisyphus pushing a boulder uphill.
I’m hopeful for better bloodwork and more ease in my body. And if my cheekbones make an appearance along the way, I’m not going to complain.
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