Economy

The ‘fat jab’ has worked for me – and it can help cure our economy


Since I wrote about using Mounjaro, the so-called “miracle” weight-loss jab, to ward off Type 2 diabetes and other ailments, hundreds of readers have sidled up to me. “How much have you lost?” they whisper. “Should I try it?”, others demand, patting their kangaroo pouch (a literal hang-over from the menopause in women or too much beer in the menfolk). Yes, I reply, without hesitation. After just over eight weeks on fatty’s little helper, I have lost 18lbs. Despite the fact I haven’t got a single item of clothing that fits me – loose is so much better than tight –  I am ridiculously pleased with myself. Whatever the sneers about “quick fixes” – how about exercising personal responsibility, Lazybones? –  it takes a lot of effort and a complete change in the way that you eat. A suppressed appetite is all that the drug bestows; the rest is up to you. 

An addiction to rewarding myself with sweet things which dates back to a bumpy, uprooted childhood, and an alcoholic father who had three sugars in his tea, is under control. My diet is high in protein and other nutritious foods with the odd glass of wine. What a relief to finally be freed from my abusive, co-dependent relationship with the Cookie Monster.

What about those side-effects everyone bangs on about? Well, my far-too-big leggings did slither down unexpectedly the other morning, giving the high street an unwanted flash of a newly-shrunken bottom (“Ozempic butt” is the popular term for the sagging or flattening of the buttocks that can occur after taking weight-loss drugs. My derrière was never of Kardashian proportions in the first place). 

Because I have stayed for two months on the lowest possible dose of Mounjaro, and plan to continue for another four weeks, I haven’t experienced any of the nausea or diarrhoea that those who are impatient to move up to the higher levels report. A weight loss averaging between 1lbs and 2 lbs a week feels like plenty. I don’t want to be greedy (greed, after all, is something I’m trying to unlearn). There have been a couple of weeks when the scales didn’t move at all. I felt dejected until I realised that changes I could observe in the mirror were far more significant: “Hello, waist! Lovely to have you back.”

Plus, there are the internal improvements in blood-sugar level and other markers of health that my doctor reminds me of when I check in with her. Longevity is a long game. 

Other effects all seem to be beneficial. I had excruciating pain in an arthritic left hip and a specialist recommended a pain-killing injection under general anaesthetic followed by a hip replacement in due course. I’m so glad I didn’t go ahead. GLP-1 drugs like Mounjaro and Ozempic reduce inflammation, a common factor in chronic metabolic disease. 

I’m not sure if there’s a link, but my hip no longer hurts, not even a twinge as I get out of the car. I guess carrying a lot less weight is relieving pressure on all my joints. Twice a week at the gym, my fantastic trainer James Wilkinson works with me to build muscle because, along with fat, I will be losing muscle. Back at the start of September, I couldn’t have imagined lifting the weights I can manage now. For someone who lives by their brain, there is a real feeling of accomplishment achieving something hard and physical. 

So, I have another 5 lb to shed before I hit the upper limit of the healthy BMI (body mass index) for my height. I set myself the target of losing 2st in the first instance, which means a further 7 lb after that. I’ve decided to play it by eye. What appears slender when you’re young can be scrawny and gaunt at my age. I don’t want to look like one of those exhumed skulls with hair as so many strenuously-youthful rich women do. They were perfectly captured by the novelist Tom Wolfe in Bonfire of the Vanities: “His wife’s desperate, middle-aged friends are ‘social x-rays’, so thin and empty they’re merely skeletons.”

I am writing about my own extremely positive experience so far. But what of the Government’s plan, announced by Health Secretary Wes Streeting, to give unemployed people weight-loss jabs to get them back to work? Could Mounjaro play a role in solving the UK’s crippling worklessness problem (a shocking 9 million people of working age are economically inactive) while removing a huge burden from an NHS that spends billions treating obesity-linked disease like cancer, heart attacks and dementia?

Understandably, a lot of people are angry at the idea of yet more public money being given to useless lumps who have enough benefits already. What about those with healthy lifestyles who eat sensibly and exercise – why can’t the chubsters just follow their example? Well, in theory they could and they should. But they don’t. Being overweight and continuing to consume rubbish is the opposite of a virtuous circle; individuals who are fat generally feel depressed so they comfort eat. Even the purportedly healthier choices in supermarkets are chock-full of hidden fats. All those low-fat yogurts shoppers pick to lose weight? Packed with sugar.

Food manufacturers have a lot to answer for. The clear warning system argued for by Chris Van Tulleken in the Telegraph this week would be a good way to shame them into using better, more honest ingredients. But we are where we are: Britons have never been tubbier. A fireman I met last week said that “bariatric rescues” were increasing at an alarming rate with the fire service being called out to help paramedics who can’t lift morbidly obese patients. We can’t go on like this. The average middle-aged man now weighs 14 st, while a woman of the same age typically weighs 12 st, which is what I was two months ago and hating myself.

As a society, we could waste our time fat-shaming people, which will only promote the self-loathing that sends the obese back to the biscuit tin and the takeaway, or we can prescribe weight-loss jabs and give them a kick-start on the journey back to taking pride in their appearance. That will cost less in the long-run and make for a happier population. What critics forget is it’s much easier to get off your backside and take exercise when you’re not living inside a Michelin Man suit. Slimmed-down parents, eating moderately because their appetite is suppressed, are likely to make better food choices for their kids too. A dismaying 36.6 per cent of 10 to 11-year-olds in the UK are overweight or obese. Their life expectancy is shortened when they’ve hardly begun. 

Once you’ve made claimants fit for work, you link the payment of benefits to attending interviews. Turn down more than three jobs and, unless there’s a very good medical reason, benefits are stopped. 

“Nanny state!” I hear many of you bellow. OK, you’ve got a point. But a lot of people would welcome help to improve their lives for the better, and that improves our country. Why the stigma surrounding weight-loss drugs? A staggering 70 million prescriptions for statins are dispensed in England every year, costing the NHS about £100  million. Statistically, statins are only effective for a small number of those that take them. By contrast, Mounjaro has an extremely high success rate in promoting weight loss and is better value for money.

Unless we do something about obesity, much of the nation’s wealth will soon be swallowed up by the NHS treating preventable conditions. Do we really want to spend 60 per cent of £180  billion on fat-related illness when we could give people a chance to take back control of their health?

Of course there are objections. How do we know benefits claimants won’t flog their free drugs on the black market? The phased rollout seems very timid – tirzepatide (Mounjaro) to be given to 250,000 people in the next three years, starting with those who are morbidly obese, and reaching 1.6  million people over 12 years. Let’s hope the costs come down quickly so many more can afford to get the jabs privately. I have heard that the NHS, in the quest for faster results, puts patients onto higher doses leading to the awful side-effects which cause many to give up.

And what if people pile the weight back on once they stop the jabs? I guess I can only answer for myself. Rewarding myself with treats was addictive behaviour to soothe the stress caused by my workaholism and other free-floating unhappiness. They weren’t treats at all; they were lethal for my long-term health and every day I can manage without them is a good day. Some may call it weakness, but I couldn’t do it by myself. Sorry. Judge me if you will. A slender handrail to hold onto while I break the addiction of half a century has been invaluable. I believe my habits have been changed and I intend to fight to hold onto the losses (which are gains).

If millions can be helped to feel as I do, we will all be better for it. Eighteen-pounds down and smiling confidently at the reflection in the mirror, ready to buy her some new clothes. 

There are sweeter things in this life than sugar.



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