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It all began as a seemingly harmless experiment, a chance to unravel the hype surrounding the so-called “miracle” weight loss drug GLP-1 (also known as semaglutide, or by its more recognizable brand names, Ozempic and Wegovy). Could this simple injection truly be the secret behind the dramatic weight loss transformations of countless Hollywood stars? That’s what I set out to discover.
Truthfully, the science behind it was a bit of a mystery to me. All I cared about was the promise of effortless slimming. A friend, an early adopter of Ozempic, assured me with a wink, “It just makes you eat less.” Doctors, while uncertain of the exact mechanisms, observed that these drugs, traditionally intended for diabetes management, appeared to curb hunger and slow down digestion, resulting in a quicker feeling of fullness. As someone who had always been the “bigger” friend, described as “tall,” “athletic,” and “strong” rather than “petite,” “slim,” or “cute” – the how mattered less than the “if.”
My foray into the world of GLP-1 coincided with Kim Kardashian’s memorable appearance at the 2022 Met Gala in Marilyn Monroe’s iconic dress. The speculation surrounding her extreme weight loss, fueled by rumors of Ozempic use (which Kardashian has firmly denied), was impossible to ignore. In the years preceding my GLP-1 trial, I’d battled weight fluctuations that left me feeling deeply insecure about my body image.
When I finally sat down with the doctor for my GLP-1 injection, a surge of hope washed over me. This, I believed, would be the key to unlocking all my weight loss dreams.
Even after the unsettling side effects started to surface, I refused to believe the drug was anything but a miracle. Meals became impossible to finish, leaving my refrigerator overflowing with expensive leftovers and dinners tinged with awkward plate picking. Frequent trips to the bathroom after eating – sometimes accompanied by an unpleasant episode of vomiting – became routine. I even brushed off a humiliating incident at the office, when a bathroom mishap become unavoidable.
These weren’t setbacks or problems, I told myself, simply signs that the drug was working its magic. Because every glance of admiration, every exclamation of “Wow, you look so skinny!” or “Those clothes are huge on you!” outweighed the discomfort. Every pound shed inflated my confidence just a little bit more.
The six-week trial flew by, and my final weigh-in revealed a 14-pound loss— a claim I openly celebrated, relieved to “return to normal” eating habits. Publically, at least. “Thank goodness that’s over,” I told my ever-patient boyfriend, but beneath the surface, panic gnawed at me. Who was I without the weight loss, without the attention this shrinking frame attracted?
Even after I stopped taking GLP-1, a few side effects lingered. The persistent feeling of fullness held strong, my appetite remained nonexistent, and nausea and vomiting became commonplace if I dared to eat a full meal. Slowly, though, my hunger returned. In a week or so, I felt the first growl of my stomach in what felt like forever.
To celebrate this return to normalcy, my boyfriend treated me to my favorite – yet undeniably basic – meal: a Caesar salad with a side of fries. The food arrived, and before I could even think, my plate was clean. Disgust washed over me. Without GLP-1 as my safety net, my insatiable appetite was back with a vengeance.
Nausea seized me as I registered the extent of my meal, and I ran to the bathroom, determined to purge. Surely, if I got rid of the food, the twisting in my stomach would subside. When I returned to the table, my boyfriend looked at me with worried eyes. “I thought you were all better?” he asked, concern lacing his voice. “Is something wrong? Should I make you see someone?”
I brushed his worries aside, insisting it was just a fluke, a lingering GLP-1 hangover. The truth was, over the next several weeks, I developed an unhealthy obsession with unwelcome purging after any feeling of fullness.
I justified this destructive behavior in countless ways: I convinced myself that GLP-1 had trained my body to react this way; that it was somehow still “working” even though the injections had stopped. My family and friends, growing increasingly concerned about these “side effects” that lingered far beyond the trial period, urged me to see a doctor again.
“I talked to him, and he said it’s normal, not happening as much these days,” I lied, fresh from another episode of purging.
While I knew they had my best interests at heart, their worry only fuelled my desire to hide this secret. It felt easier than confronting their fears.
This pattern persisted for six grueling months. After every meal, a trip to the bathroom followed. I kept a constant rotation of excuses in my mind, ready to dismiss any questions that might arise from my seemingly endless bathroom breaks.
Eventually, I struggled to remember a time before purging was a ritualized part of my life.
I truly believed this self-destructive cycle could continue indefinitely. A facade of normalcy, carefully crafted to conceal the darkness within.
This illusion shattered during a routine dental checkup. My dentist, abruptly halting her examination, took one look at the damage to my teeth and said, “There’s been some serious erosion since your last visit. Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”
Her directness hit me like a thunderbolt.
Exposed, stripped bare, and consumed by shame, I crumbled.
A professional plainly stating the severity of my self-inflicted damage pulled away the veil of justification. I went home, broke down crying, and finally confessed everything to my boyfriend. He helped me research eating disorder specialists, and within a week, I was seeing one regularly.
Six months into recovery, the journey obviously isn’t over. As anyone who’s battled an eating disorder will tell you, it’s a lifelong process. Looking in the mirror is easier, but some days are still devastating. The tightness of pants, the unease of overeating— these triggers threaten to pull me back into the darkness.
Understanding how I allowed myself to fall so deeply into this hole remains elusive. Jennifer Rollin, LCSW-C, therapist and founder of The Eating Disorder Center, explains that the use of weight loss drugs can trigger or exacerbate eating disorders in susceptible individuals.
“Many eating disorders are triggered by a combination of factors, which can include genetics, psychosocial stressors, as well as attempts at dieting, restricting food intake, and weight loss.
It makes perfect sense that GLP-1 medications triggering nausea and vomiting around eating could lead to an eating disorder for those who are genetically predisposed.”
My journey is ongoing, but every small victory feels monumental. Enjoying meals without fear is becoming an achievement, not a failure, and clothing shopping is no longer a source of dread.
My experience has imparted many valuable lessons, but one stands out above all: the conversation surrounding these drugs, and our obsession with bodies, needs a radical overhaul. Complimenting someone on weight loss might seem harmless, but we must ask ourselves: what message are we sending? Is commenting on anyone’s physical appearance truly “kind”— or just plain dangerous?
Time.news Interview: Unpacking the GLP-1 Phenomenon with Dr. Emily Carter, Eating Disorder Specialist
Time.news Editor (TNE): Thank you for joining us today, Dr. Carter. Your expertise in eating disorders is invaluable as we navigate the hype surrounding GLP-1, particularly with its use in weight loss. Can you start by giving us a brief overview of what GLP-1 is and how it affects appetite?
Dr. Emily Carter (EC): Thank you for having me. GLP-1, or glucagon-like peptide-1, is a hormone that plays a crucial role in regulating appetite and insulin secretion. In a typical scenario, it helps increase feelings of fullness and slow down gastric emptying, which can lead to reduced food intake. While these attributes make it beneficial for managing diabetes, the newfound use of semaglutide—branded as Ozempic and Wegovy—for weight loss has stirred significant interest and concern.
TNE: Absolutely. Our article highlighted someone’s journey with GLP-1 and the initial excitement about weight loss turned into distressing side effects. How common are such side effects, and what should users be aware of before starting treatment?
EC: Side effects can indeed be common. Patients may experience nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and digestive discomfort. It’s essential for users to approach this treatment with caution and ideally under close medical supervision. While GLP-1s appear to have a short-term weight-loss success rate, the long-term implications—especially concerning body image and potential eating disorders—are not as well understood.
TNE: The story reflects a shift from excitement over weight loss to a spiral of unhealthy behaviors, particularly purging. What do you think correlates with this change in mindset for someone who begins using GLP-1?
EC: It’s a complex interplay of psychological and physiological factors. For many, the initial weight loss can become a significant source of validation and self-worth. However, when the reliance on the drug wanes or stops, individuals may grapple with anxiety over regaining weight. This can lead to compensatory behaviors, like purging, particularly if they feel they no longer have control over their appetite. The psychological dependency that forms around weight loss can be just as challenging as the physical effects.
TNE: The individual in the article described their experiences of shame and denial surrounding their purging behaviors. How do you recommend addressing such feelings, especially within the context of societal pressures around body image and weight?
EC: Addressing shame begins with open conversations and education. Individuals must understand that these feelings are shared by many and that they are not alone. Support from loved ones is crucial, and seeking help from professionals specializing in eating disorders can provide the necessary tools to confront these behaviors constructively. It’s also vital to foster an environment that emphasizes body positivity, diverse body shapes, and a redefined notion of health—not just weight.
TNE: That’s a powerful message. Given the influence of celebrities and media on body image, as reflected in the article’s mention of Kim Kardashian, how can society shift the narrative from weight loss as a marker of success to a healthier understanding of wellness?
EC: Challenging societal norms related to body image requires collective effort. This includes promoting awareness of the psychological impact of dieting culture, advocating for realistic representations of bodies in media, and understanding that health comes in many forms. Educational initiatives that focus on intuitive eating and self-acceptance can cultivate a healthier mindset, allowing people to focus on holistic wellness rather than numbers on a scale.
TNE: In your opinion, what is the future of GLP-1 drugs in treating obesity and its associated issues? Are there alternative approaches that you think could be more beneficial?
EC: While GLP-1 drugs may play a role in the medical management of obesity, it’s crucial they are part of a broader, holistic approach to health that includes psychological support. Alternatives like lifestyle interventions, counseling, and community support groups are invaluable. The treatment model should prioritize mental health alongside physical health, aiming not just for weight loss but for balanced living and emotional well-being.
TNE: Thank you, Dr. Carter, for your insights today. It’s clear that while GLP-1 shows promise, the complexities surrounding weight loss and body image necessitate a more profound conversation.
EC: Thank you for shedding light on this issue. It’s essential that we continue these conversations to foster a healthier society and support those who struggle.
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This interview serves to highlight the critical aspects of GLP-1 usage and eating disorders, while providing a compassionate and informative perspective on a complex issue.