I want my daughter to love her body no matter its size.
So why, then, am I, her mother, on a GLP-1?
Well, it’s complicated.
If you go by BMI, I’ve been slightly overweight ever since my daughter was born. I’ve had borderline bloodwork. I’m on a statin. Yet when I’ve told friends and family that I’m taking a GLP-1, they’re pretty shocked. I’m tall and athletic, and I’ve spent a lot of time and money buying clothes that flatter me.
I’d like those clothes to continue to fit.
I had a bit of a wakeup call when I got back from the beach this summer. I was at my highest weight since soon after giving birth. My clothes were tight. I ate a lot of ice cream at the beach, yes, but I also ate a lot of salads and did a lot of running. It felt a little unfair that I was so heavy.
I thought about the utterly stringent calorie counting I would need to lose this weight. I thought about how, in the past, I hid my food scale from my daughter. I would furtively count grapes as I put them into my mouth, then sneak into a different room to log my calories. I would stare at my calorie tracker app, feeling so hungry after an active, busy day. The more I exercised to burn calories, the hungrier I would get. Most days, the app would tell me I’d already eaten all of my calories for the day. And then some.
I didn’t want my daughter to see my mental anguish about diet and weight. And when she was older, I didn’t want her to ever feel that anguish herself. If I didn’t want her to feel that way, why should I?
One option would be to simply accept my new, heavier weight. If I could snap my fingers and do so, would I? I am vain about my body, but I also want to be healthy. If I continued to gain weight, my bloodwork could go from borderline to unhealthy.
So, I had to lose the weight.
I explained my situation to my primary care doctor. He tried to get insurance to cover the meds, with no luck. I spent $350 on compounded meds, gritted my teeth, and gave myself the shot, which didn’t hurt at all.
The next day, I was not hungry, which typically only happens when I have the stomach flu. I did feel a little nauseous, but I still went running and got my work done. I forced myself to drink electrolytes and eat cottage cheese. By the end of the week, I was eating normal meals, but about half of my normal volume. I did track calories, but this time it was to make sure I was eating enough. I lost 4 pounds that first week.
When I took my next shot, the nausea was debilitating. My doctor suggested I space out my shots more. I go 2-3 weeks between shots now, with limited side effects. It’s still early days, but I’m down about 10 pounds in less than two months.
I’m still early in my journey, but I already know that I will never lose weight “the hard way” again.
If taking a GLP-1 is the easy way out, what’s wrong with that?
I exercise 5-6 days a week. I spend endless hours planning, shopping for, and cooking healthy food. And I work and have a kid.
Is that not hard enough already?
People worry about having to take the medication forever. I don’t necessarily see that as a bad thing. I’m prepared to take a statin forever if it means I’m less likely to have a heart attack. Of course, financially, taking a GLP-1 forever is not possible for many people. But buying all new clothes for a larger body every few years would not be cheap either.
I haven’t told my daughter about this medicine yet. What does it say about me that I am okay with trying to shrink myself…but don’t ever want my daughter to feel like she has to shrink?
Yet we live in the real world. Our society might make her uncomfortable with having a larger body. Very likely, she will face the same struggles I have as she ages, has children, and monitors her health.
If she does want to lose weight, I don’t want her to have to count grapes. Yes, I do want her to learn about nutrition. I do want her to move her body in ways that feel good. But what mother wants their kid to do something “the hard way” when that means feeling anguish, shame, and hunger?
Maybe, just maybe, we can all give ourselves the same grace.
by Jennifer Vail 
