'On the pen': An honest story of life on Ozempic
Though unlicensed for weight-loss, it seems to be everywhere
Diet culture and fat-shaming has, one would hope, transformed in the last few years. Gen Z-ers are fighting back against both; Wearing what they want, eating what they want and being unapologetic about their bodies. Body neutrality is at an all-time high among the same group. But for me, a millennial? With decades worth of fat-shaming pop culture moments and celebrity airbrushing embedded into my brain? The notion persists: Skinny is better. Skinny equals success. Skinny is eternally aspirational.
I was speaking to someone recently who told me she was working out a lot and overhauling her diet. She insisted, before I questioned it, “it’s more about health for me, obviously”. Lest I doubt her motives. After deeper chats, she quietly admitted to me that her main motivation to lose weight was, in fact, to look good and feel better in her clothes. To be a couple of sizes smaller, essentially. She was ashamed to say it, but it remained true for her.
And I think a lot of people can identify with that feeling, around now: Wanting to look what is (albeit subjectively) perceived as ‘better’ by losing weight, but not wanting to admit that seemingly conceited fact to anyone. I know I have definitely extolled the many virtues of my gym-going and football training to people, listing health, outdoor time and strength as my main raison d’être. But is it a little bit true that I wouldn’t mind having a smaller waist, dress size or hip diameter? Of course it is.
There’s a decades-long history of societal pressure put on women in particular to look a certain way. Millennials, who for the most part came of age during the Kate Moss-90s-‘heroin-chic’ era, understandably might struggle to separate their worth and their weight. We are urged to get off the scales, stop counting the pounds, go off how we feel, not how we look. But history has shown us that flaws are inherently bad (Heat Magazine’s circle of shame, anyone?) and that having extra weight on is the worst flaw of all.
With all that said, when weight loss ‘miracle’ drug (which wasn’t really intended for weight loss at all) Ozempic started coming up in conversation, pretty much every woman I know (of my age and older) was intrigued at best, desperate to inject it as soon as humanly possible at worst. I am naturally sceptical about things like that, and I’d rather pour vinegar into my eyes than feel some of the listed side-effects, so I didn’t think it was for me.
THE WHY
But I did want to look into it more. I interviewed a woman, 38, who is about a size 16/18 – which I’d never normally even reference about a person, but in this instance I guess there’s relevance. She preferred to remain anonymous but was searingly honest in her reasoning and reporting about taking Ozempic. I asked her first of all what made her want to try it.