Disclaimer :: I understand there is controversy around this class of drugs being prescribed off-label, for weight loss. The New Orleans Mom is not promoting the use of any medication for any use. Talk to your doctor if you are interested in hearing more about this option from a medical professional. Medical decisions are highly personal, and this post is meant to be informational about a topic that many people are interested in. This is based on my own experience and decision.
My Experience with Injectable Weight Loss Drugs … One Year In
A year ago, I injected myself for the first time with a dose of Mounjaro, one of the GLP-1 drugs that are being increasingly prescribed for weight loss. It’s a controversial subject, to be sure, but one of the best decisions I’ve made.
The idea of trying to keep weight off or lose weight again without these drugs is awful. It’s exhausting to be constantly thinking about food. Constantly worrying about what I’m eating. It’s been so nice just to not think about it anymore. I feel like a mental weight has been lifted, not just physical.
In the past year, I have lost 70 lbs. Over a quarter of my starting body weight. I’m no longer obese, according to my BMI, but merely overweight. My blood pressure is back in the normal range, as is my cholesterol. And I haven’t had to take medicine for acid reflux in months.
I put my wedding dress on, and it zipped. I had to put the smaller band on my Apple Watch. My rings are loose. Masks fit better, too.
I recognize that my results are well above average. I don’t know why, maybe it’s because I exercise regularly? Or more likely, because I’m just lucky. I don’t feel like I can take much credit for the loss. After all, I’ve just stuck a needle in my thigh a few times a month.
The mental health benefits of this medication, for me, cannot be overstated. I hate that my self-esteem has been tied to my weight, ever since I was dragged to my first diet doctor at the age of ten. Since my mom assured me that “once you start your period, that puppy fat will melt away.” I wonder if she realizes that those words still haunt me, 35 years later. (P.S. it most certainly did not melt away.)
I feel more confident seeing old friends. I feel more confident walking into a room of people I don’t know. At the back of my mind, I’ve always wondered why my friends are friends with me when I’m fat. I know, it’s toxic and terrible, and I don’t feel that way about my friends, so why should they feel that way about me? Shouldn’t I give them more credit? Of course, but this is the number that the struggle with my weight has done on me.
What does the future bring? I am still overweight, but I wouldn’t mind if I didn’t lose anything else. I’m happy where I am now, but not knowing how long I’ll be able to afford these drugs means I may have to stop at some point. My insurance doesn’t cover it, so I’m injecting a dose every ten days instead of every week, in an effort to make it last longer.
Sometimes I can’t sleep, worried what will happen if or when the drugs run out. I won’t fool myself into thinking I won’t gain this weight back. It’s something I recognize I will need to stay on for the long term, if I want to stay at this weight. I understand better now that obesity is a disease, and it needs to be treated as such. It doesn’t bother me that I will be on an antidepressant for the rest of my life, so why should this be any different?
For now, I am enjoying shopping at more stores, feeling better about myself, and being able to see my collarbones. If that’s shallow, then I’m shallow.