I spent six months resisting the idea of GLP-1 medications. Six months of hearing about Ozempic and Wegovy and Mounjaro everywhere—celebrities, social media, my own doctor—and thinking, "Not for me."
Because wasn't that giving up? Wasn't that admitting I couldn't do it on my own? Wasn't that... cheating?
Spoiler: No, it wasn't any of those things. But it took me a long time to figure that out.
The Resistance
When my doctor first mentioned semaglutide, I shut it down immediately. I had just finished another failed attempt at calorie counting. I was frustrated and discouraged, but medication? That felt like a step too far.
"I just need to try harder," I told her. "I just need more discipline."
She nodded sympathetically but said something that stuck with me: "How many more times do you need to 'try harder' before you consider that maybe the problem isn't your effort?"
I didn't have an answer. But I still said no.
The Internal Dialogue
For months, I had an ongoing argument with myself:
"It's cheating."
Is it cheating for a diabetic to take insulin? Is it cheating for someone with depression to take antidepressants?
"I should be able to do this on my own."
You've been trying on your own for 20 years. How's that working out?
"What will people think?"
Do you really care more about what people think than about your health?
"It's dangerous. We don't know the long-term effects."
You know what else is dangerous? Being 100 pounds overweight. We definitely know the long-term effects of that.
Around and around I went, the same arguments, the same resistance.
The Breaking Point
I can pinpoint the exact moment I changed my mind. It wasn't dramatic. It was pathetically mundane.
I was at my niece's birthday party. She's seven. They were playing tag in the backyard, and she ran up to me, grabbed my hand, and said, "Auntie Sarah, come play!"
And I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But I was exhausted from just walking from the car to the backyard. My knees were already hurting. The thought of running around, even for five minutes, filled me with dread.
So I made an excuse. "Auntie's too tired, sweetie. Maybe later."
She was disappointed but ran off to play with the other kids. And I sat in a lawn chair, watching, feeling like the worst aunt in the world.
That's when it hit me: all my resistance to medication wasn't about health or safety or doing things "the right way." It was about pride. And my pride was literally keeping me from playing with my niece.
Screw that.
The Research Phase
Once I decided I was actually open to trying GLP-1s, I went down a research rabbit hole. I read studies, watched YouTube videos, joined Reddit forums, talked to people who had tried it.
What I learned:
These medications have been used for diabetes for years. Semaglutide (Ozempic) was approved for type 2 diabetes in 2017. This isn't some brand-new experimental drug.
The weight loss is significant and sustained. Clinical trials showed average weight loss of 15-20% of body weight. That's life-changing for someone like me.
Side effects are real but manageable. Nausea, digestive issues, fatigue—yes. But most people find them tolerable, especially after the first few weeks.
It's not a magic bullet. You still have to eat better and move more. The medication just makes those things actually doable instead of a constant uphill battle.
The Conversation with My Doctor
I went back to my doctor about four months after she first suggested it. I told her I'd changed my mind and wanted to discuss GLP-1 medications.
To her credit, she didn't say "I told you so." She just smiled and said, "Okay, let's talk about your options."
We discussed my medical history, my weight loss goals, insurance coverage (spoiler: that became its own nightmare, but that's another post), and which medication to start with.
She recommended starting with semaglutide, beginning at the lowest dose and slowly titrating up to minimize side effects. She warned me about nausea, told me to stay hydrated, and said to call if I had any concerning symptoms.
And then she said something that made me tear up: "I'm proud of you for taking this step. This took courage."
I hadn't expected to feel emotional about it, but I did. Because it did take courage. Letting go of the idea that I had to do everything through sheer willpower alone—that was hard.
What Changed My Mind
Looking back, a few key realizations helped me get over my resistance:
1. Obesity is a medical condition, not a moral failing
I had to stop treating my weight as evidence of my lack of discipline and start treating it as a medical issue that might benefit from medical intervention.
2. We treat other conditions with medication without stigma
I take allergy medication. I'd take blood pressure medication if I needed it. Why should weight management be different? The stigma is arbitrary and harmful.
3. Willpower is finite and unreliable
I'd spent decades trying to white-knuckle my way through diets. Sometimes I'd last weeks or even months. Eventually, I'd always cave. Not because I was weak, but because fighting constant hunger and cravings is exhausting.
4. Life is short
How many more years was I going to spend being miserable, avoiding activities, feeling uncomfortable in my body, and missing out on life because I was too proud to accept help?
5. I deserve help
This was the hardest one to accept. I kept thinking I needed to "earn" the right to medication by proving I'd tried hard enough on my own. But that's not how medicine works. You don't have to suffer more to deserve help.
The First Injection
Two weeks after that appointment, I gave myself my first injection of semaglutide. I was nervous. My hands were shaking a little as I prepared the pen.
The injection itself was nothing—barely felt it. But emotionally, it was huge. It felt like crossing a line I couldn't uncross. I was officially someone who "needed medication" for weight loss.
And you know what? That was okay. That identity felt way better than "someone who hates their body and can't seem to change it despite trying everything."
Would I Make the Same Decision Again?
Absolutely. Without hesitation.
I only wish I hadn't wasted six months being stubborn. I could have started this journey sooner. I could have been losing weight and feeling better instead of spinning my wheels with the same ineffective approaches I'd tried a hundred times before.
But I also understand why I resisted. The stigma around weight loss medication is real and pervasive. We're taught to value "natural" approaches and view medical intervention as a last resort or a sign of weakness.
That's nonsense, but it's deeply ingrained nonsense that takes time to unlearn.
If You're On the Fence
If you're reading this and debating whether to try GLP-1 medications, I can't tell you what's right for you. Only you and your doctor can make that decision.
But I will say this: if the only thing holding you back is pride, or stigma, or the feeling that you "should" be able to do it on your own—those aren't good enough reasons to keep suffering.
You don't get extra points for doing things the hard way. You don't have to prove anything to anyone. And accepting help isn't giving up—it's being smart.
Two weeks from now, I'll be sharing my first-month update. Spoiler: it's been rough in some ways and amazing in others. But I can already tell you that making this decision was the right call.
Here's to taking the scary first step.