It was 1990 something and I was living with my parents after I had graduated college. My mom, who had been obsessed with her own weight for as long as I can remember, had my sister and I join her in her latest diet fad. TOPS (Take Off Pounds Sensibly) is a weight loss support group that has been in existence for 75 years. I certainly hope they’ve evolved in how they run their meetings because back in the 90’s there was nothing sensible about it. The term “fat shaming” comes to mind, but it was done in such a passive-aggressive way that it left you feeling more confused than motivated.

Every meeting concluded with the dreaded “weigh in.” And this wasn’t something discreet like at Weight Watchers, it was a show for all to see. It was intentional. Members went to the front of the room one by one. So there you are in the audience, sweating, butt cheeks sticking to your pleather seat, anxiously and painfully waiting for your turn to be judged. You feel like you’re about to throw up because what brought you to this moment is the exact thing that you’re insecure about. Then the applause starts. You are hoping, no, more like praying you get the applause and not the other thing. Please God, please…just ONE…all I’m asking for is at least one pound!

So it went – if you lost weight, everyone clapped and cheered, but if you didn’t lose or were the same weight you were last week, everyone, in unison, exclaimed, “Glad you’re here!” That was your consolation prize. Glad you’re here? More like, good thing you’re here, fatty. Ugh. I attended 2 meetings and quit. My sister and mom apparently enjoyed public humiliation because they continued to go. I know my mom was disappointed that I quit, but even she couldn’t help but chuckle when I welcomed them home from their meetings every week with a “Glad you’re here!” And yes, just like the other fluffy gals who were so dedicated to the program, my mom and sister did not lose much weight, nor keep off what they did for very long.

Trying to lose weight is a battle. It’s a soul crushing fight that many people endure every day. Nothing worked for me until this little secret, that only celebrities could afford and have access to, was finally introduced to the general public. It’s called semaglutide and it is the magic pill, or I should say shot, that anyone who has ever had a weight problem has prayed for. I got my hands on some Ozempic and I lost 60 lbs.

Now before you get all judgey on me, know that I was prescribed it for the initial reason it was introduced into the medical world. It helps “insulin challenged” people like me. I have Type 2 Diabetes. It got so bad that my knee surgeon refused to operate on my knee because my A1C was way too high. But now it has become the latest fad in weight loss, like Slim Fast but with better results and no chalky after taste. If you can get your insurance to cover it, you’re golden. If you can’t, you’re screwed. Not many people can afford $900 – $1000 a month, unless you’re like a Kardashian or just have a really good job or something.

My weight loss journey over the past 3 years has been anything but easy though. I had to lose a good chunk of weight before my knee replacement surgery without the Ozempic. The drug wasn’t mainstream yet and people didn’t know about it. So good old-fashioned starvation was prescribed to me by my doctor. Yes, my MD. He put me on a program through the hospital which involved consuming mostly liquids, food that came in the form of a powder, and weekly weigh ins, which of course triggered flashbacks of my “Glad you’re here” days and added a whole new layer of PTSD to my already fragile mind set. I had to get my knee replaced because I could barely walk anymore. A torn meniscus, 2 baker’s cysts, and years of degenerative arthritis was causing some serious bone-on-bone pain. I never imagined getting an ultimatum for receiving medical care, but there it was. “Get your A1C down by dropping 15 lbs. and then and only then, will I perform your surgery,” said the tiny, yet authoritative Iranian man who sounded like an Oompa Loompa. Ok that’s a fabrication of what my doctor looked and sounded like, but the way he made me feel was how I imagine patients of the infamous Dr. Now do. His words were direct, to the point, and border lined on harsh. “Your knees and all of your joints will thank you if you lose weight.” I remember thinking, “yeah, yeah, I know…” But I really didn’t know just how incredibly right he was…until 2 years later.

The diet program required that I drink a half gallon of water daily, so walking to the bathroom to pee became my main form of exercise. I didn’t mind drinking the water so much as choking down the food. Ugh the food! It looked and tasted like what I imagine prison food does. Chalky, mushy, tasteless or all 3 at the same time. Pudding, chili, and soups were all in powder form. That was the extent of the menu. Oh and shakes. Lots and lots of protein shakes that made me so gassy my dogs wouldn’t even sit by me. It wasn’t until the second week that I learned that the shakes had lactose in them, which I’m intolerant of, so that explained the cramping and the crapping. I felt awful and was hungry all the time. My family put up with my crabby ass, but finally after a couple weeks I started to drop some weight.

It took about a month, but I did it. I lost 15 lbs. and my A1C was down to an acceptable number for surgery. The reason I had to get my A1C down was because my blood would’ve been too sticky for surgery. Did you know that blood becomes sticky when your sugar is too high? And sticky blood can cause clots. Huh, I thought. If my blood sugar is sticky like candy, I wonder what food my liver is like… salty? Like a dirty martini straight up with extra olives? Sorry, I digress…

So I had my total knee replacement done and guess who came to visit me after I had the surgery? The 15 lbs.!! Awe, so thoughtful of them. I was wondering if they’d come back. “Glad you’re here!”

I spent the next month in physical therapy basically learning how to walk again. There’s something so humbling about PT. God bless these incredibly patient PT professionals who cheer for you when you walk up the fake little “prop stairs” that are on theater stages everywhere. And they follow your limp ass around the room cheering each step you take with “You’re doing it…One more step…You got this!!!” I always smiled and gave a gratuitous thumbs up in solidarity, but inside I felt so impotent and couldn’t wait to just get the hell out of there. As long as I didn’t hear, “Glad you’re here,” I was good.

But I knew that after I got my mobility back that I’d have to start exercising for real though. I couldn’t exactly start jogging or do an elliptical, so I joined the health club affiliated with the hospital I worked at and started swimming. I actually love swimming and it was great for my new knee. No peddling or pounding on my joints, just some no gravity cardio. I eventually lost the 15 again and some more pounds. I tried eating right, but the weight just wasn’t coming off as much as I needed it to. I was on Trulicity at the time. It’s an injection for diabetes, but doesn’t have semaglutide (at least I don’t think it does). It was helping my A1C, but did nothing for weight loss. That’s when I asked my doctor about Ozempic.

Ozempic, like most medications, has its pros and cons. Pro: You Will Lose Weight. Con: You’re gonna feel sick almost every day until your body gets used to it. Con #2: When your body finally gets used to it, it stops working.

I could go on and on about my Ozempic journey, but I’m thinking it’s time to wrap up this post. Leave me a note in the comments if I should do a part two on Ozempic! Or any other topic you’re interested in. I guarantee we can all relate on some level together.

Thanks for listening. “Glad you’re here!” Sorry, I had to.