Wednesday, September 30, 2026
|
|
|
|
There’s been a spate of stories lately about how GLP-1 drugs are a big problem for Big Food and Big Clothes and Big Other Industries that might struggle among a trimmer population with more moderate appetites. But there’s a whole other set of industries picking up the slack by targeting people who achieve their goals and get off of GLP-1s. Writer Joshua Hunt wrote for Esquire about navigating the world after eleven months on Ozempic. It’s a great read. –Kevin Dupzyk, features director
|
|
|
|
When you stop taking the miracle weight-loss drug, the cravings return—for food, yes, but also for something more.
|
When I started on Ozempic, in April 2025, my appetite was by definition abnormal: I ate too much, too often, with little regard for anything besides quieting whatever compulsion drove me to this sort of behavior. A weekly dose of the GLP-1 agonist semaglutide, which is sold under brand names like Ozempic and Wegovy, transformed me. It diminished both my hunger and my cravings for processed sugar and fried foods; it made me into the sort of person who eats when hungry and at no other time, which is something I hadn’t experienced for at least a decade.
We tend to talk more about the way these drugs reshape our bodies than the effect they have on our thinking. There is real psychological power in feeling, at long last, like you are in control of the appetites that once controlled you. Semaglutide slows the digestive process so that one meal keeps a person feeling fuller for longer, while also curbing cravings, so that all calories become more or less equal. Fried foods and processed sugar are no more appealing than a salad or some chicken breast, making it easier to tell yourself: No, I’m not going to eat a doughnut or some pizza. Instead I’ll have a protein bar or an apple or maybe nothing at all.
In my case, Ozempic lived up to its burgeoning reputation as a miracle drug. The weight came off so quickly at first that I found myself with questions about the effects this might have. Was it possible to get all the macronutrients I needed while eating so little? Would my fats and proteins spin out of balance? Was my skin ready for the body it contained to shrink so quickly? These questions were not always easy to answer.
|
|
|
|
Even a cynical jerk like me can feel something sometimes. All season long, Ted Lasso has oscillated between its worst eye-roll-inducing habits (what belabored simile did Ted make now?) and genuine emotional highs reminiscent of when it was an Emmys darling. The newest episode, “Mae Rides the Bus,” isn’t free from more Lasso-isms, but the sudden exit of one of its longest supporting characters is disarmingly graceful and restrained. Maybe this is the Stockholm syndrome talking—I’ve had to tune in every week and muster enough energy to write about it since June—but Ted Lasso finally, really got me this time.
In episode 9 of Ted Lasso season 4, “Mae Rides the Bus,” the characters spin their wheels until it’s time to head to Bristol City for an important game that could decide Richmond’s standings and, more or less, its future as a team. But it’s not just football players whose futures are decided. Keeley (Juno Temple) and Roy (Brett Goldstein) have only just gotten back together, and already Keeley is grappling with a massive change: pregnancy.
|
|
|
|
Anytime my wife and I eat or drink out, I pay. When she says it’s time to go, I flag down the service staff, take the check, and squint while I pretend to itemize the bill. She checks her phone or looks around the room as I hand off the card and make small talk with the server. When it comes back, I pass the receipt across the table. My wife is vastly more capable than I am at simple arithmetic, so she handles the tip and keeps a copy.
On paper, none of this dance matters. We’re married. We share 100 percent of our finances. Neither of us can really “buy” the other dinner at this point. But both of us see it as nonnegotiable that I put down the card. It’s the same reason I open car doors for her or pick her up from the airport. None of it is necessary, but it’s one of the million little things that quietly add up to being a man—the things that, if I didn’t do, especially early on in our relationship, she’d find someone else to do for her.
|
|
|
|
|
No comments:
Post a Comment