Ozempic Gave Me an Eating Disorder: Personal Essay

It started as an innocent experiment. A chance to see what all the fuss was about – and whether a simple drug had really enabled large numbers of Hollywood stars to lose dozens of pounds in one fell swoop. That’s how to test the possibility of a form of the “miracle”. slimming drug GLP-1 (also known as semaglutide, or by its most commonly used brand names, Ozempic and Wegovy) began.

To be honest, I knew very little about it how the drug worked – all I believed and cared about was that it allowed users to slim down with what seemed like minimal effort. “It just makes you eat less,” a friend who had been an early tester of Ozempic told me with a wink. Doctors don’t know exactly how the drugs — traditionally used to treat diabetes — lead to weight loss, only that they appear to help curb hunger and slow the movement of food from the stomach to the small intestine, helping you feel better feels. full faster. As someone who has always been the “big” friend—described as “tall,” “muscular,” and “athletic” rather than “short,” “slim” or “cute”—I didn’t really care how it worked. Only that did it.

My introduction to GLP-1 came not long after Kim Kardashian’s now infamous performance at the 2022 Met Gala That Marilyn Monroe dress. Her figure led to speculation that she turned to Ozempic to fit into the iconic dress (rumors she refused to address). In the years leading up to my GLP-1 trial, my weight had been yo-yoing aggressively, and I was at a point where I felt miserable about my appearance. It felt like no matter what I did, I could never achieve anything even close to a ‘skinny’ figure.

When I arrived at the doctor’s office for a GLP-1 injection, I had hope. Whatever happened, I decided, this would be the key to all my dreams about weight loss.

Even after experiencing some terrible side effects, I couldn’t be convinced that the drug was anything other than a miracle. Sure, eating full meals became impossible, leading to a refrigerator full of expensive leftovers and difficult plate picking. And yes, I regularly had to run from the table to throw up after eating what the medicine was telling my body was just a little too much. I even refused to acknowledge the downsides of GLP-1 after I had a terrible bathroom accident at the office.

To me these weren’t problems or issues; they were just signs that the medicine was doing its job. Because no matter how many ego-bashing incidents of vomiting or diarrhea I endured, the glow I felt every time I received a compliment about my weight loss couldn’t be dulled. Not a day went by without me being told how thin I looked or how baggy my clothes had become. Comments that I waved away in front of everyone who offered them, but which remained firmly in my mind. With every pound lost from my body, my confidence grew just a little bit more.

After six weeks my GLP-1 trial ended and I was happy to see that I had lost 14 pounds at my last weigh-in. Publicly, I expressed my relief that I would finally be able to enjoy food again, because I knew people would expect that. “Thank God That It’s over,” I told my ever-patient friend. But inside I panicked. I was afraid of who I would be without the weight loss or without the attention my shrinking body attracted.

In the days after I stopped taking GLP-1 I still experienced some side effects. The constant feeling of fullness remained; my appetite was non-existent, and I would get nauseous and vomit if I ate a full meal. Slowly, though, my hunger returned, and within a week or so I felt my stomach growling for the first time in weeks.

To celebrate, my friend took me out to dinner for my favorite (and oh-so-simple) meal: a Caesar salad with fries. The food arrived and before I thought about it my plate was empty. And I was disgusted with myself. I quickly realized that without the security blanket of GLP-1, my insatiable appetite had reared its ugly head and taken over.

A wave of nausea hit me as soon as I realized how much I had eaten, and I ran to the bathroom to make myself vomit, convinced that if the food came up, the churning in my stomach would go away. When I sat back down at the table, my friend looked at me with concern. “I thought you were all better?” he asked. ‘Is something wrong? Do you need to see someone?’

I quickly brushed aside his concerns and insisted it was nothing more than a GLP-1 hangover. But the truth is, over the next few weeks I developed an increasingly unhealthy obsession with the idea that I ‘had’ to throw up as soon as I felt full.

I justified my behavior in all kinds of ways: I told myself that it was the ghost of GLP-1 that controlled my appetite, that the drug had somehow trained my body to respond this way when I ate to maintain my weight loss. My loved ones became increasingly concerned that my so-called GLP-1 side effects continued and urged me to go to the doctor.

“I talked to him and he says it’s normal, and it doesn’t happen that often these days,” I lied, having just finished another meal. While I now know they had the best intentions, their concern at the time motivated me to make only one change: to conceal the purge in any way possible. I was convinced that they just didn’t understand and that it was easier to keep it a secret than to drag out their fears.

This pattern continued for six months. Whenever I ate more than a few bites of a meal, a trip to the bathroom quickly followed. I always kept a list of excuses in my mind, ready to assuage any concerns that might be caused by my frequent trips to the bathroom.

After a while, I struggled to remember a time when I hadn’t purged after a meal. And I truly believed I could go on like this forever, for the most part acting like a healthy, happy thirty-something, while keeping my secret hidden from the world.

Believe it or not, that ridiculous illusion was only broken by a visit to the dentist. She took one look at my teeth and the damage caused by my cleansing, and sat me down for a quiet word. “Your teeth have suffered some serious erosion since we last saw you, and I’m wondering if there’s anything you want to talk about. You are not obligated to talk to me, but if you would like me to do so, recommend a therapist who specializes in eating disorders, I can do that.”

Her words hit me like a bullet. I felt naked, exposed – and utterly ashamed.

A professional who clearly stated the damage I was doing to my body made all those justifications come crashing down around me. I went home, burst into tears and told my boyfriend everything. He helped me research eating disorder specialists, and within a week I started seeing someone regularly.

Six months later I am still recovering. And as anyone who has struggled with eating disorders will tell you, that process will probably last the rest of my life. Looking in the mirror has become easier, but I still have days when too-tight pants make me cry, or that extra full feeling after a big meal sends me running to the bathroom in despair.

I still don’t really understand how I let myself fall into such a desperate and dark hole – but Jennifer Rollin, LCSW-C, therapist and founder of The Eating Disorder Centersays it is not uncommon for the use of weight loss medications to cause or worsen an eating disorder in patients. “Many eating disorders are initially caused by a combination of factors, including genetics, psychosocial stressors, as well as attempts at dieting/restricting food intake/and weight loss. So it makes perfect sense that GLP-1 drugs cause nausea. and vomiting around eating can lead to an eating disorder in people with a genetic predisposition.”

While my treatment is still ongoing, I try to claim a “win” every day. Enjoying a meal – rather than dreading it – starts to feel like an achievement rather than a failure, and shopping for clothes no longer fills me with a sense of dread.

My experience has taught me many lessons, but what I know to be truer than anything is that the conversations around these medications and around our bodies has change. Complimenting someone on their weight loss may seem like a kind thing to do, but we need to ask ourselves what message it sends, and whether commenting on someone’s figure is “kind” or downright dangerous.