I’ve carried extra weight for as long as I can remember. As a teenager, I was the fat, awkward friend, hovering on the edges of groups, careful not to take up too much space. As an adult, I learned the art of excuses, small lies to avoid public situations, the easier path of staying hidden.
Living in a larger body is more than physical strain. It’s the constant shame of existing in plain sight. The guilt that comes with food, every bite questioned, every moment of enjoyment overshadowed by regret. The cycle of trying, failing, and regaining. The hopelessness that creeps in and convinces you there’s no point in trying again.
I’ve been through that cycle more times than I can count. The most recent was just before Christmas, when, even with a strict deficit, my body clung stubbornly to its weight. Futility pressed heavy on me.
For years I thought about surgery. I even sat through the group sessions. But the idea of altering my body permanently felt wrong, almost like cheating. When GLP-1 injections started making headlines, I hesitated in the same way. Could medication really be the answer? The NHS waiting list was over a year long. At 173 kilos, I didn’t feel like I had a year to waste.
So I took the plunge privately. On January 21st, a package arrived with my first supply of Mounjaro. I weighed 172.5 kilos that morning. I did not know what to expect.
Stories online spoke of feeling full quickly, of food “noise” fading, but it felt impossible to believe. My biggest fear was side effects. I couldn’t afford to be unwell, not as the main provider for my family.
The reality was gentler than I imagined. A few headaches, some bloating, but nothing that stopped me. What struck me most was the quiet.
For the first time in my life, I wasn’t consumed by food. Hunger came, but softly. Meals became smaller without effort. For the first time, I left food on the plate.
Evenings, once my downfall, grew calm. The pull toward emotional eating slipped away, replaced by something I hadn’t felt in years: freedom.
This isn’t about appearances. It’s not about being smaller for someone else. My goal is simple: health, longevity, and the chance to live without carrying such a burden.
Two weeks in, the burden is already lighter. I stand on the scales and see 166.4 kilos staring back. A loss of 6.6 kilos. Numbers, yes, but behind them something more: joints aching less, clothes loosening, mood lifting. Hope.
I wonder now why I waited so long, why I doubted myself. I’m cautious with new things, and maybe I needed that time to be ready. But starting has given me back a sense of control I thought was gone forever.
For the first time in years, I’m not bracing myself for failure. I’m looking ahead with energy, with curiosity. I don’t know exactly where this road will lead, but I know one thing already.
I feel free.