It’s official: the latest weight loss fad has dropped, and it’s as toxic as ever. With 462.1 million views on TikTok, the hashtag #Ozempic – referencing a drug used to treat type 2 diabetes – has gone viral for its supposed weight loss benefits.
In May 2022, rumours began to circulate that Kim Kardashian used it to shed 16 pounds in three weeks ahead of the Met Gala. Mindy Kaling has had similar allegations levelled at her, accused of going one step further and hosting “Ozempic parties” with friends.
A once-weekly medicine for adults with type 2 diabetes, Ozempic is used to improve blood sugar to reduce the risk of major cardiovascular incidents and trigger weight loss. The Ozempic guidelines note that it “may help you lose some weight” but adds that it “is not for weight loss.”
It isn’t just celebrities that are taking Ozempic. Concerningly, the hashtag is inundated with people sharing their “results” rather than those calling out this irresponsible quick fix. Many film visuals of their weekly progress, demonstrating their quick “weight loss transformation” with little to no effort. It isn’t the body positive space it projects itself to be.
I’ve been living with type 1 diabetes for eight years now. An autoimmune condition, it occurs when the immune system attacks and destroys the insulin-producing cells in the pancreas. I wear an insulin pump and issue a dose each time I eat, scanning my blood sugar using a flash glucose monitor. Comparatively, type 2 diabetes occurs when the body does not produce enough insulin.
When I first learned of the Ozempic trend, I felt sick to my stomach. The first month after I started experiencing the 4Ts of type 1 diabetes – toilet, thirsty, tired, thinner – the weight fell off me to such an extent that friends and family asked me if I was on a diet. I was told that I looked “amazing”: looking back, I have no idea why. I looked deathly ill, and I was: my blood sugar level was so high that the hospital told me I was “lucky” not to be in a coma, or worse.
Losing that weight wasn’t a gift: it was deeply traumatic, and horribly dangerous. I might not take Ozempic specifically, but the glorification of diabetes drugs as some trendy weight loss fix concerns me. Scrolling down my TikTok feed, I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to emulate such an unsettling experience. Worse still, why anyone would willingly put themselves in such danger.
The Ozempic fad isn’t just an individual health issue, either: it’s a privilege issue. In January 2023, Novo Nordisk reported shortages of the drug across the US due to increased demand.
The reality is this: more than 1 million Americans living with diabetes ration their insulin because they cannot afford it. Meanwhile, Ozempic can wield a yearly cost of $16,000 (£13,005) without insurance, costing $1368 (£1,112) for a single pen or between $170 (£138) and $342 (£278) per weekly dose. Rich people paying upwards of $1000 (£813) per month for a drug they don’t need to take – potentially impacting the access of type 2 diabetics – is deeply unethical. It’s capitalism at its very worst.