A few weeks ago, I got served an ad for Ozempic from Felix, an . I mindlessly clicked it and went through the questionnaire to determine my eligibility for the popular drug, and as I did so I became uncomfortably aware of my subconscious excitement at the prospect of losing weight — and fast. I cancelled the session before I could be connected with a doctor, leaving my answers saved somewhere in the ether.
Had this happened 15 years ago, I probably would’ve gone through with it. But even now, as someone who’s worked for years on my own body image, the promise of being smaller is incredibly tempting. I’m not safe from the allure of a quick fix to a body I know most people wouldn’t choose to have.
I know better now than to trust things advertised as a quick fix, and have unlearned the instinct to see my body as something to be fixed at all. But almost no one, especially not those socialized as women, is unscathed by , which links the size of our bodies with moral virtue and health. Semaglutide medications like Ozempic, which was designed to help manage type 2 diabetes, have quickly become seen as a golden ticket to weight loss.
Ads for drugs like Ozempic, and Mounjaro have become inescapable on subways and social media feeds alike, and every other day a new celebrity or influencer talks about using it, from Whoopi Goldberg to Kelly Clarkson to . Some are declaring that the wide availability of these drugs could “end obesity,” rendering the fat acceptance movement .