‘Ravenousness was in my job description.' What happens when a food writer goes on a weight-loss drug?

Boston Globe

02-04-2025

But as a food writer, I did wonder: Um, what if I just wasn't hungry anymore? Ravenousness was in my job description. And yet, as a fairly confident person for most of my life, I was tired of feeling self-conscious about my weight all the time, and it finally reached a breaking point two months ago.
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I should have been giddy. I'd just moderated an author talk at the Harvard Book Store — my own personal Madison Square Garden — before a crowd of women. I asked good questions; I left 'em laughing.
But I also felt like a sack of loose potatoes, angling my body this way and that on a wobbling metallic stool. I chose a formless black dress and sucked in my stomach with all manner of Spanx. When I got home and peeled off my armor, my skin had red indentations. And, when the author and the bookstore shared photos from the event, I winced. I didn't post on Instagram. I didn't tag myself with a perky caption.
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I thought: I really used to like how I looked, and I just don't anymore. This has to change, even if my appetite changes with it.
And so I visited my primary care doctor and asked for ideas, knowing that several friends already took similar drugs with good results. He immediately suggested Zepbound. I qualified: At just 5′1, I was about 30 pounds overweight, with a pesky ring of visceral fat around my belly. Beyond that, I have a family history of heart disease. My cholesterol, while not awful, was borderline. My insurance, Blue Cross Blue Shield of Massachusetts, approved coverage right away.
Getting the prescription was the easy part. The challenging part came later: I worried that I was wimping out by not embracing the evolution of my 40-something body, whose metabolism was slowed by perimenopause, hindered by SSRIs (often implicated in weight gain but necessary to manage panic disorder), and the birth of two very large children.
There was an element of feeling like I was letting myself — and all of womanhood — down, by caving to Big Pharma and Big Vanity, not to mention relinquishing a part of my personality.
When my teenager began medication for ADHD, he asked me: Will I still be funny? Now that I was prescribed Zepbound, I wondered: Would I still like to eat? Dim sum brunch was the highlight of any weekend. I threw elaborate dinner parties with friends based on obscure themes. I write about restaurants in this very newspaper, for God's sake.
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Who would I be if I didn't love food?
But there was also a more pressing issue: Would I be anyone at all if I continued on this semi-unhealthy trajectory? I come from a long line of people with cardiac problems. Both of my grandmothers were,
ahem
, buxom. But my Nana wore a girdle; now, I had an injector pen. There was a tool that could potentially help me feel better and live healthier. Why struggle without it?
On the advice of a friend, I injected the first vial on a Monday, so I wouldn't ruin my weekend with potential side effects. I shot into my stomach. It didn't hurt; just a slight click and the dose was done. A metallic taste flooded my mouth immediately; a quick Reddit scroll confirmed that this was common. That night, I became nauseated, similar to the first trimester of pregnancy. Vomiting would have been appealing. I didn't eat much dinner, and I belched like a frat boy for a few hours while trying to focus on 'The White Lotus.'
By Tuesday, I was unhungry. It wasn't that I felt sick; eating just wasn't central to my mind-set. The perpetual hum in my mind — when would I snack again? what was for dinner? — evaporated. When my husband suggested salmon and broccoli, I didn't fixate. That was fine. I didn't really care. I ate a small portion; when I was done, I was done. Wednesday was similar: I had a banana and yogurt, and I swapped my morning walk with a friend for coffee at home, just in case I needed a bathroom. At dinner, I had one slender slice of pizza. There was no want. It wasn't until my hunger had vanished that I realized how much space food, and the pursuit of it, occupied in my mind.
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I was quite pleased until Friday morning, when I woke up early to go to Pilates. Exercise is also a crucial complement to weight-loss drugs. They aren't a golden ticket to sloth and inactivity. I still have to move, and I still need to eat right, because nutrients are so important if your body isn't naturally cueing you up for hunger.
But my cramping reminded me of the early throes of childbirth. I could hardly sit up straight. Two Gas-X solved the issue, and I forced myself to class — and told my instructor that I'd started a new drug and not to panic if I just laid flat on my reformer. Awesome, she said, as if I told her I was going to Tahiti. I made it through.
By the weekend, I felt completely back to my old self, with one important change: I could regulate my food intake. When we grabbed dinner from Five Guys after my son's late basketball game on Friday night, I had 10 delicious fries, not the whole carton. I slurped half a chocolate shake, not the whole damn thing.
On Sunday, I celebrated a pal's birthday brunch at Foundry on Elm in Somerville. I shared poutine. In the past, I would have mindlessly swiped eggs through gravy until the skillet was dry. Instead, I was pleasantly satiated halfway through. It really was that simple: For the first time in years, I actually felt full.
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Now, a few weeks in, my GI woes have resolved, my appetite is modest but present, and I've shed 6 pounds. And here's the thing. I still eat; I just do less of it, more slowly and mindfully. It's like going to the movies: You can appreciate cinema. You can lose yourself in the story. You can relish every frame, but you also know when it's time to leave the theater. You don't need to see the same show four times in a row.
Part of me does think Zepbound is like AI for weight loss, a modern cheat that's almost too easy. I sometimes feel that anything worth doing should be pursued the old-fashioned way — diet, exercise — even if the results don't come because of other medications, genetics, or age.
But most of the time, I'm content with my choice, because the truth is: I'm losing weight on this medication. I feel better, I look better, and the side effects are manageable. I trust my doctor, who assures me that it's safe. Friends who take it feel similarly, and so do the thousands of people I've met on message boards (there are plenty of them!) on a similar journey.
And, most of all, I still love food. I just want to be around as long as possible to enjoy it.
Kara Baskin can be reached at