Every time I open Instagram, it seems to only take a few seconds of scrolling for me to be served a post for a GLP-1 medication like Ozempic, Wegovy, or Zepbound.
Sometimes it’s an ad featuring a montage of before-and-after photos, along with a clip of a woman boasting about how “life-changing” the drug is and how “easy” it is to get online. Other times I’ll see someone I’ve followed for years—an acquaintance, a celebrity, or a content creator—posting photos where they’re suddenly several sizes smaller, a weight loss so dramatic it likely wouldn’t have been possible without pharmaceutical assistance.
And it’s not just my algorithm. Bodies seem to be shrinking IRL too—and GLP-1s are part of the reason why. Between February 2024 and October 2025, the number of American adults who reported taking GLP-1s for weight loss more than doubled, constituting roughly 12% of the population, according to Gallup polling.
The ever-increasing popularity of GLP-1s bubbles up conflicting feelings for me. On the one hand, it’s none of my business which medications people take or what they choose to do to their bodies. No one owes me an explanation for how and why they decided to pursue weight loss, and I don’t think it’s always problematic.
But on the other hand, it’s a real mindfuck that it feels like overnight so many people’s bodies have shrunk to fit a mold that society deems more desirable. It’s especially triggering when the body belongs to someone who used to tout self-acceptance and the evils of diet culture.
Perhaps I find this shift particularly challenging because, as a millennial, I saw thinness glamorized and disordered eating normalized in the media during my most formative years and know the damage it can do to our collective well-being. Now that modern medicine has made weight loss easier than ever, it’s hard not to backslide and internalize the message that we should all prioritize being smaller, despite the potential risks to our mental and physical health.
On paper I’m an ideal candidate for the medications. I live with polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS), a hormonal disorder that is often coupled with insulin resistance and makes weight loss notoriously difficult. GLP-1s have been studied and prescribed specifically for people with PCOS, and the results look encouraging.
My body mass index (BMI) is approximately 33, and anything above 30 is categorized as obese. I’m aware BMI has a racist history and is a poor measurement of health (it doesn’t account for muscle mass, for one). But unfortunately, BMI is still used in clinical settings, especially to prescribe GLP-1s.
