So sorry to be the Ozempic party pooper…

Allow me to attach a trigger warning to this. If you’re reading over lunch, put it aside now. For professional celebrity bestie, Derek Blasberg, is MIA following an incident said to have taken place at Gwyneth Paltrow’s Hamptons guesthouse.

To quote Popbitch: a guest ‘of Gwynnie’s catastrophically shat themselves in bed, then fled back to the city before they had to face the music’. The site claims that the incident is part of a wider epidemic of ‘Ozempic-induced diarrhoea’. Blasberg, rumoured to be the culprit, is yet to confirm or deny this involuntary dirty protest.

I hereby declare this an epochal cultural moment — and not merely because I just launched a Substack entitled The Shit. In short, said substance has hit the fan wonder drug-wise. Farewell, the euphoria over Ozempic solving our lardarsedness; all hail, a distinctly shitty morning after.

I’m not an outlier here. The world and his wife have increasingly got the ick over these tampon-like, appetite-suppressing medi-pens. Ozempic belongs to a class of medications called GLP-1 receptor agonists, named after the hormone they mimic that regulates blood sugar. As levels rise, molecules shoot to the brain, telling users they’re full so can step away from the Dunkin’ Donuts.

However, this class of drugs has existed for only a few years. There’s a hell of a lot we don’t know by way of long-term consequences. As for the short-term, it’s not only shitstorms at dawn, but potential vomiting, constipation, dizziness, headaches. Some users shed their hair. There have been reports of muscle wastage and unwanted pregnancies in women suddenly experiencing a boost in fertility.

Our red carpets are haunted by hollow-eyed slebs, in love with their figures, but frightened by — and frantically filling — their faces. ‘Forget Ozempic face, be grateful you can’t see my arse,’ one user tells me.

The body positivity movement feels dead. Instead, we’re witnessing a return of Noughties ‘lollipop ladies’, women with vast heads and tiny physiques. Shame is back in business, both the shame of using these appetite castraters, and the shame of not being able to afford them. As a Black friend laments: ‘Fatness will be for we plebs; thinness for rich, white bitches.’ Although, let’s not demonise women here; even pale, male and stale poster bro Jeremy Clarkson has dabbled.

I’m no knee-jerk rejector of chemical solutions. Ozempic and co can prove life-saving in addressing diabetes and other bona fide medical conditions.  However, Ozempic’s use as a ‘lifestyle’ option is an abomination we should all deplore, diminishing supplies for those who actually need it. Even the buck-hungry makers of these drugs have appealed to La La Land luminaries to stop caning them for ‘vanity reasons’, so selfishly are they depriving the sick.

GLP-1 occurs naturally in the body when we feed it simple, genuinely nourishing substances it recognises, rather than the crack of the Frankenfood industry. Eating our feelings, then expending them all over our friends’ bed sheets, should not be seen as the more palatable option.

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