Your First Friend on Ozempic
My friend Jen is objectively tiny, and I told her that she would never find a doctor to prescribe her Ozempic. From time to time, she wears clothes from GapKids - usually short, loose little dresses, but still, they’re made for tweens. She frowned, and told me that she weighed the same as she did when she was eight months pregnant.
Sure enough, the next time we met up her first shot was on the books. It was either start Ozempic or cut down on Zoloft, and when she put it that way, the answer was obvious. In my experience, less meds is never the answer.
All the girls kept checking in as her prescription increased and weight slowly dropped. Any side effects yet? Any nausea? How’s your energy? Your heart rate? Do you still exercise? Doesn’t it feel weird? How do you accept the risk?
The secret answer to that is that Jen is probably the only real nihilist I know—a girl who, before she had children, truly did not care if she lived or died. Things are very different now. It’s trite to say, but the truth is that her children have brought joy into her life that she never thought she could feel. Sometimes she can’t believe her luck. But still there’s something in her that keeps life at a distance, as if it’s just an experiment for her. It’s nothing for Jen to say “go ahead doc fuck me up.”
Everyone who knows about the Ozempic wants her to be miserable, wants to hear that it’s so hard. But Jen just smiles beatifically. She’s ten pounds down now – no side effects, no issues. It feels like she might actually have won this one. For once, it looks like she got something for nothing.
Sorry to disappoint :(.