From fashion to the food industry: 11 ways that weight-loss drugs have changed the world | Diets and dietingFor a phenomenon that has such visible results, there is huge secrecy around weight-loss drugs. Ellen lied to get her Wegovy pen. “I put weights around my neck under my dressing gown when I got on the scales,” she said. “They do the review and five minutes later, I got the approval.” Like most of the hundreds of thousands of people in the UK who have taken weight-loss drugs in the past few years, Ellen went to an online pharmacy to pay her prescription. “You have to film it live – here’s my passport, here’s my body, here I am getting on the scales,” she said. At 5ft 9in (1.75m) and 12 and a half stone (79kg), Ellen – not her real name – was barely overweight. The hidden weights and a sudden height loss – “I said I was 5ft 2in” – were enough to get a prescription. “I was on it for six months and I’ve lost three stone,” she said. “I’m a touch lighter than I should be, but the plan was always to come down a bit more, to go up a bit.” It’s not what Wegovy or Mounjaro were designed for – which was to help seriously obese people – nor Ozempic or Rybelsus, drugs to help diabetics manage their disease. All four are types of semaglutide, which mimics the hormone released by the body when eating food, GLP-1 . The essential effect is to make people lose their appetites. But they offer hope to those who had despaired of ever being able to lose weight, and to politicians grappling with the problems of an obesity epidemic: more than a quarter of adults in England are living with obesity and nearly two-thirds of those aged 18 or over are overweight at least. It’s still not clear whether these injectable medications will be wonder drugs that are central to solving the obesity crisis, or sticking plasters – a temporary fix, with users simply regaining lost weight after they stop taking them. But there are already signs, three years after Wegovy began to be used in the US and barely a year since it was officially launched in the UK, that semaglutide medications are changing the world – and changing it in unexpected ways. Fashion leadsThe waif is back. At Berlin fashion week in July, Namilia sent a model on to the catwalk wearing an “I heart Ozempic” T-shirt, pushing into the open a conversation that had been going on behind the scenes: models taking Ozempic to be thinner. “You do get naturally thin 16- or 17-year-old girls who are sucked into the industry then told ‘if you want to stay in it, you’ve got to starve’ – it’s a really abusive grooming space,” said Caryn Franklin, the former BBC Clothes Show presenter who is now a fashion and identity commentator. A campaign that she set up with supermodel Erin O’Connor, All Walks Beyond The Catwalk, seemed to have worked – in 2017, major fashion houses signed up to a charter to protect models by banning size zero, and plus-size models started to become visible at fashion shows. “But now we seem to be going back to thin models,” Franklin said. “It feels like representation of average women was just a trend.” Fashion editors have complained about the new wave sweeping the catwalk and those watching it. In the past few weeks, Chioma Nnadi of British Vogue described the “new cult of thinness” as “troubling”. Anna Murphy of the Times said she was sad and angry at “the erasure of women”, while Jo Ellison of the Financial Times said she was depressed at fashion’s “dangerously rail-thin aesthetic”. “We’re really beginning to see this kind of cultural effect of Ozempic take place,” Ellison said on the podcast Life and Art from FT Weekend. Hollywood followsFashion is the fastest culture vehicle, a taste leader, Franklin said. “Stylists who style starlets for the red carpet will go straight to a fashion house to get a sample garment,” she said. “So then she’s under pressure to fit it – the garments are designed and women have to fit in them. It’s the wrong way round.” Weight-loss drugs were “just another way of helping women destroy themselves through eating disorders,” she said. That pressure applies to established stars too, trying to keep their place in Hollywood’s pantheon or on TV screens, particularly in the US where Ozempic has been taken off-label – prescribed legally for a purpose for which it was not approved – since it was advertised in 2018. A few have spoken publicly about taking the medications, such as Rebel Wilson, Kelly Clarkson and Amy Schumer, as well as older celebrities including Oprah Winfrey, Elon Musk, Stephen Fry, Whoopi Goldberg and Kathy Bates, who has been keen to point out that most of her weight loss was from diet and exercise. But there is still plenty of secrecy in the image-dominated industries, and plenty of speculation by fans who have a new have-they-haven’t-they game to play on Reddit or Instagram about people in the spotlight, instead of gossiping about plastic surgery or Botox. Social livesAs demand for weight-loss drugs has trickled down, some of the social impacts are starting to become clearer. “People are secretive because they’re ashamed of using this tool to do it,” said Juls Abernethy, a women’s wellness coach, therapist and cofounder of the Body Retreat, who has worked with several women looking for extra help to lose weight. None of them were prepared to tell their family or friends what they were doing. One hid her injectable pen among the condiments in her fridge so her husband wouldn’t find it. People who feel ashamed of being fat, as if it were a moral failing, feel the same about using medication – of the fear of being seen to cheat, Abernethy said. “We talk about weight loss like a war,” she said. “Banish the bulge and fight the fat. It’s supposed to be difficult. It’s supposed to be arduous. And now you can pick up a pen for £150 or something.” Ellen was more open about her methods. She shared her Wegovy pen with her husband, adjusting her dose to reduce the side effects of intense nausea that came when she did eat food. She told her friends in London, but stopped discussing it with other people because it became difficult to deal with accusations that she was causing problems for diabetics (there were shortages of Ozempic for Type 2 diabetes sufferers last year) or with endless questions about what it was like to inject herself in her midriff once a week. “Our whole life used to be planned around food,” she said. “But we stopped eating out because we’d just order a starter, and it felt a bit cheap. Then we went to New York for a week and realised when we got there we’d made no dinner reservations.” The “food noise” – thoughts about when to eat and what to eat – simply disappeared, she said. During the six months she took Wegovy, the couple “saved an absolute fortune on food”, she said. “We’d get a Domino’s delivered and two pizzas would last us three days. And, sadder for me, it really puts you off alcohol.” Weight-loss industryAbernethy is one of the few people still advertising weight-loss retreats, she said. “Most people have changed their name or dropped the weight-loss element,” she said. “You don’t know why people aren’t clicking, but over the course of this year, we’ve definitely seen a downturn in our weight-loss retreat, which is generally our most popular. You can’t ignore the Ozempic thing.” For larger firms, it’s a bigger problem. Sima Sistani stood down last month as chief executive of WW International, which owns WeightWatchers, after trying to turn around the company’s fortunes. Its shares have fallen by 97% since 2021, even though it now offers a “GLP-1 programme” and offers semaglutide as part of its WeightWatchers Clinic business. Food industry“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves – 4.1m people are eligible to receive Wegovy,” said Alfie Slade, government affairs lead at the Obesity Heath Alliance. “At the moment, we have capacity to treat 35,000 people a year on the NHS in specialist weight management clinics. The source of obesity is the broken food environment where companies have a financial incentive to sell the most profitable products, ones that are high in fat, salt and sugar.” In 1983, grab bags and multipacks didn’t exist, McDonald’s had 1,000 outlets and KFC had a few hundred. There are now 48,000 fast food outlets in England alone, and bans on junk food advertising have yet to come into effect. In the US, which has had longer to see the effects of weight-loss drugs emerging, companies that make and sell ultra-processed foods are identifying potential problems. Research by JP Morgan suggests that people on GLP-1 drugs spend up to 17% less on food in the first six months, and Walmart said last year it was already seeing people buy less food, prompting investors to sell shares in PepsiCo and Mondelēz. Nestlé has responded by launching a line called Vital Pursuit – frozen pizza, pasta and sandwiches that it bills as a “companion for GLP-1 weight loss medication users”. Gyms“Though most of the weight loss is body fat, a downside of calorie deficit is that some of the weight lost is muscle,” said Prof Lora Heisler, chair in human nutrition, Rowett Institute, University of Aberdeen. Gyms have responded by replacing treadmills and other cardio machines, previously seen as the best way to shed pounds, with more weight machines and free weights. There has been a longer-term shift towards people trying to gain muscle mass, which depletes as we age. But there is also “intense interest now in finding ways to block muscle loss during weight loss”, Heisler added, with researchers looking for pharmaceutical solutions too. Eli Lilly is working on bimagrumab, which she said “has shown some success in preclinical trials in protecting muscle from being lost” while people take GLP-1 drugs. Nutrition is a wider issue for users of the drugs. Ruchi Bhuwania Lohia, founder of Wellness with Ruchi, said: “When people come in, they can be quite nutrient deficient. They lose water, then muscle mass.”
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