
Apparently, one in ten women are taking Ozempic*. It’s a statistic I find hard to believe. Why? Well, I know a hairstylist friend who dabbles, plus a beauty editor colleague who has been on it for a year or so and I once met a guy on holiday, who, between sucks on a strawberry vape, told me he was on it.
But in my close circle? I know nobody.
But just because we are not taking it doesn’t mean it’s not affecting our friendships. We aren’t dealing with meals out scuppered by Ozempians’ inability to eat anything beyond a morsel (the drug famously makes you feel permanently full), but we are having heated discussions.
My friends are divided. Some of them are judgy. Some of them embrace it.
All women know that when it comes to discussing body weight, it gets emotional and personal pretty quickly.
It’s a contentious topic. In fact, I’m nervous writing about it here in case I offend someone. But there is a famous saying in journalism that if publishing a piece doesn’t make you feel a little bit scared, then you haven’t done your job. So here goes.
On one hand, I think fat jabs are an incredible innovation. Much of the UK is suffering from the effects of obesity – physically and mentally, and these drugs can offer relief from both, plus save the NHS millions.
I have massive empathy for those who are obese. From my extensive health podcast consumption (I know, not the most credible research), I’ve learnt some bodies are genetically more prone to putting on weight.
Many of those with high BMIs are stymied by their hormones, economics, their upbringing or their surroundings. Or seduced by the food industry’s misleading messaging.
Where I do struggle is with those taking Ozempic to shift five kilograms. Or those who are healthy weight but want to be skinny.
I try and work out why this causes me disquiet. Why shouldn’t they take this option? It’s their choice and their money after all. Perhaps it will be commonplace in a few years and resistance is futile.
But on the flip side, I think it’s probably not good for you to take drugs when it’s not medically necessary, and that you might be depriving those who need it more.
Rational arguments, right? But underneath, there’s another reason it riles me.
I think on reflection, I’m a little bit jealous. I would like to be released from the ‘food noise’ which means I feel I’m constantly fighting temptation. (Are those mini eggs still in the fridge? Does that lasagne need clearing up? Am just I hungry or bored or both?). And though I’m a fan of exercise, let’s face it, lying on the sofa is always a delicious option. Imagine being slim without having to haul on a sports bra and strap on a head torch and go for a run in the rain.
“I would like to be released from the ‘food noise’ which means I feel I’m constantly fighting temptation.”
Yet, when my brain gets over its toddler tantrum and logic returns, I know I wouldn’t take a weight loss drug – at least not as things stand currently.
I know that I am lucky I can maintain a healthy body weight with diet and exercise. That I have the genetics and a lifestyle that allow me to keep this up. And because of this, I won’t need to suffer the side effects of the drug (nausea, burps, stomach upsets or worse) or worry about what happens when I come off it. I know that exercise is good for my bones and vital for my mood.
So, after all that flip-flopping (thank you for bearing with me) I’ve finally returned to the saying that seems the best motto for life and friendships. “You do you.”