Latest news with #Queenagers
The Independent
19-07-2025
- Health
- The Independent
Gen X is having a Mounjaro midlife crisis and are paying the consequences
Are you on it?" she whispered as we swam out into the lake. It was a beautiful, sunny day and I was leading a group of midlife women – or Queenagers, as I like to call them – on a rejuvenating retreat. I didn't need to ask what 'it' was. The whip-smart fiftysomething meant Mounjaro, or Wegovy – those miracle jabs that aid weight loss are sweeping through the midlife female population like a particularly contagious cold. It's now so common for women of a certain age to be taking this medication that if – like me – you've shed a few pounds just by walking, swimming, and cutting out processed foods, no one believes you. The next weekend, I sat down next to a friend on a camping trip. She was wearing tight jean shorts and a fitted top (unusual, as she is often quite body conscious). 'I feel great,' she said. 'I've finally shifted my meno-belly and am back in my old clothes. It's costing £200 a month, but it's worth every penny!' The fact that she was on 'the pen', as these injectables are known, didn't even need to be spelled out. She was messianic about how the food noise in her head had been silenced and how, after a lifetime of always feeling too large, she had finally reached her 'ideal weight'. My friend was only a size 12 before she started the jabs; she certainly didn't have a BMI of 35 or above, which is meant to be the threshold for a Mounjaro prescription. 'Oh,' she said breezily, 'I lied to the online clinic. I told them I was 10kg heavier than I am and sent them a really unflattering old photo where my tummy had rolls and looked huge.' But what about your health, I asked. Her expression said it all: who cares? I'm thin! Many women I know are having a Mounjaro summer. And many, I think, are having a Mounjaro midlife crisis too – which is worrying on a number of levels. These injections were originally developed to treat type 2 diabetes and morbid obesity by activating two receptors called GLP-1 and GIP, which increase the level of incretins – hormones that raise insulin levels and reduce the amount of sugar produced by the liver. The NHS is still only prescribing them for those with a BMI of 35-40 who have tried everything else, and only in conjunction with a nutrition plan, an exercise regime, and a psychotherapist. Side effects can include gallbladder disorders, acute pancreatitis, a higher risk of thyroid cancer, indigestion, bad breath, constipation, muscle wastage, and bone loss. It is also worth noting that there is still no peer-reviewed evidence on how these new medications interact with female hormones, because the large-scale trials weren't done on women, but on men. My friend ignored my well-meant objections. I wasn't surprised. Like many of us born in the Seventies, she had been raised by a mother obsessed with weight – not for nothing did that generation believe you could never be too rich or too thin and were taking amphetamines decades before they were declared class-A and became 'speed' at their daughter's raves. My generation are sitting ducks for this nonsense. We came of age during the 'nothing tastes as good as skinny feels' era (thanks, Kate Moss), and went from the heroin-chic Nineties to the circle of shame in the Noughties, where muffin tops were the enemy. We've been fed a constant media diet of eschewing bingo wings and cankles – and were taught to judge ourselves harshly by a beauty industry intent on selling us highly profitable products. Now in our fifties, we're experiencing entirely normal weight gain linked to the drop in oestrogen during menopause, and suddenly £200 a month feels like a small price to pay for a monthly injection that will transform us to our twentysomething weight. As my friend (a highly respected therapeutic practitioner) said, 'I just feel better about myself if I am thinner.' She is not the only one. A whole swathe of the population are lying about their BMI to access these jabs. It even has a name: microdosing. 'I see so many women who are taking these jabs short term to lose weight for a holiday, wedding, or job interview,' says Dr Nighat Arif, expert in midlife health and author of The Knowledge: Your Guide to Female Health from Menstruation to Menopause. 'The side effects include feeling horrible, headaches, low mood, bone loss, and muscle loss – all of which are particularly important to consider in midlife, when perimenopausal symptoms can already cause heightened anxiety.' Nighat is particularly concerned about the way social media and private clinics are marketing these drugs to midlife women. 'I hate the term 'meno-belly' – what it describes is a totally normal weight gain of two to three kilos. As we age, the body creates sex hormones in fat cells to counteract other hormonal changes going on within. 'Pushing Mounjaro and Wegovy to menopausal women is simply preying on their vulnerability. Companies are profiting from women's anxieties and normal body changes.' Even worse, she explains, is the lack of female-specific data in clinical trials. 'The effects on women are hidden in peer-reviewed trials, and we still don't know exactly how these drugs interact with HRT due to limited long-term data. Yet the market is flooded with messages claiming these jabs cure menopausal weight gain.' She refers to guidance from the British Menopause Society: 'Semaglutide (Ozempic) and tirzepatide (Mounjaro) result in delayed gastric emptying, and gastrointestinal side effects are common. The impact of these medications on the efficacy of co-prescribed oral hormone medications within HRT is unknown.' Clinicians are advised to switch orally taken progesterone to patches due to slowed digestion. (It also advises that oral contraceptives may not be effective.) As a midlife expert who runs a community of women in this life stage, I feel uncomfortable with how quickly so many of my peers are resorting to pumping themselves with injections often sourced from the internet. Most people on these jabs (estimates are up to 1.6 million in Britain) do not meet the official prescription criteria. It feels regressive. What happened to all the midlife rhetoric about empowerment, about not giving a damn, and moving into our confidence? It really is a midlife epidemic. Look around: many of your friends are shrinking in body mass ('being eaten from inside' is how one woman described it this week); their faces are drawn, their bodies gaunt, and their breath bad. That once-fun dinner companion who now pushes food around the plate and leaves early because they are exhausted. Last month, I attended the launch of a new initiative at the House of Commons called What Women Want – a national conversation about improving women's lives. It aimed to highlight global inequality, violence against women, rape in war, and the gender pay gap. To kick off the conversation, Good Housekeeping magazine surveyed readers about what they wanted. The answer, depressingly, was: to lose half a stone. So here we are. A generation brainwashed into believing we are only as valuable as the number on the scales, rushing to spend huge sums on drugs intended for the clinically obese. And the cost may go beyond our bank accounts. Emily Hohler, a nutritional therapist with NatureDoc, which specialises in menopause and midlife women's health, worries our health could pay the price, too. 'I see many perimenopausal and menopausal women with stressful lives, fluctuating hormones, and debilitating symptoms like anxiety and weight gain. 'I understand the appeal of these drugs, but there are downsides. Women naturally lose up to 5 per cent of muscle mass each decade after age 30. The perimenopause is especially vulnerable due to falling oestrogen, which affects muscle strength and health. 'Rapid weight loss often includes muscle loss. Maintaining healthy muscle mass is crucial, which is why I always stress protein intake and resistance training at this stage – especially for those not on HRT.' There's also the issue of diminished appetite. Are women getting the nutrients they need? Used alongside a healthy diet and exercise, these drugs can help with unhealthy weight gain. But used as a substitute, the consequences could be serious. Some people report hair thinning and loss as a particularly distressing side effect. A colleague of Hohler's works exclusively with weight loss clients using Metabolic Balance, which emphasises preserving muscle mass while reducing fat. She has seen many women experience miraculous early results with these jabs, only to plateau before reaching their goals. And when they stop injecting, weight often rebounds quickly. Some women microdose without any medical oversight. Some aren't overweight; they simply want to be thinner. There is often no psychological support to address emotional eating. 'Women overeat for a reason,' the practitioner says. 'When they stop the drugs and the food noise returns, they can feel more out of control than before.' Hohler believes the path to long-term health lies in high-quality wholefoods, regular exercise, and sleep. 'I get that these drugs can help prevent serious consequences of obesity. But for women with minor midlife weight gain, simple lifestyle changes can not only help, but also give them back their sense of agency – and that is a wonderful thing.' Another private doctor I spoke to, who asked to remain anonymous, echoed these concerns, saying the women using these jabs are often the ones already getting tweakments, lip fillers, and IV vitamins. They're microdosing and not using the drugs as they were intended. 'These pin-thin 'lollipop women' are losing touch with reality', she says. 'One woman who came to me had lost so much weight, I suggested she eat more protein. She said, 'After months on the jabs, protein makes me gag.'' 'There's a strange belief in our culture that thin equals healthy. But if you're eating junk (just not much of it), drinking heavily, and skipping exercise, you might be skinny, but you're not healthy.' Nor will your strength or fitness improve – both of which are vital over 50. The Mounjaro midlife crisis is a toxic mix of thin-culture, gendered ageism (especially in the workplace), and a screen-obsessed society. Filters and Photoshop fuel a fear of ageing, pushing even sensible women to make poor health decisions. Are they ready to be on these drugs for life? And if so, what are the consequences – beyond pharmaceutical companies having hit the jackpot? On Loose Women earlier this year, Sharon Osbourne said that after losing more than 40lbs on Ozempic, she now struggles to gain even 10lbs back. 'The injections worked,' she said, 'but now I can't put anything on really.' It already feels like we're living in a real-life version of The Substance. This makes me sad. I see so many amazing, intelligent, wonderful midlife women trying to embrace their authentic selves. My rallying cry is that we come into our prime as Queenagers. That 50-plus is when we become the people we were always meant to be, shedding the programming that says we're only valuable for our looks. I understand why so many midlife women are falling for the Mounjaro trap. I just wish they understood that you really can be too thin – and that frailty (the mental state and a physical one marked by being underweight and under-muscled) is never a good look. Eleanor Mills is the Founder of the UK's premier network for midlife women, and the author of Much More to Come: Lessons on the Mayhem and Magnificence of Midlife (HarperCollins)
Telegraph
17-07-2025
- Lifestyle
- Telegraph
I don't believe any midlife woman who says they don't care what they look like
Are you a member of the We Do Not Care Club? It's an online sensation started by Melani Sanders, a 45-year-old mother of three from West Palm Beach, Florida, who invites midlife women to tell her what they no longer care about. From her bed, clad in an old, grey T-shirt and baseball cap, she rants about how she doesn't care about bras – 'bras suffocate us'. She doesn't care 'about looking pregnant when we're not pregnant – that's just our perimenopausal or menopausal bodies '. She doesn't care 'about being late, cos we have our own s--- to do'; or having unpainted toe nails – 'I'm going to wear my flip-flops, they are just my feet'. She doesn't care 'if you think I have a s--- attitude, or that I'd rather watch TikTok than clear up'. If she has chin hairs, or ' cellulite in short shorts, that's just how I look, God made me that way'. I have to say I love her attitude – in 2025, it still feels revolutionary to see a woman out and proud, blowing up so many social 'shoulds'. I particularly love that she is taking aim at the kind of dreary, midlife grooming which is expensive, painful and endless. You know what I mean: threading, waxing and toe maintenance that can easily become a full-time job for what the ghastly Gregg Wallace has described as 'women of a certain age'. But while I appreciate Sanders's brand of We Do Not Care sentiments, I'm afraid her credo is not actually what I see in my community of midlife women. The reality of life for my 'Queenagers' (my word, I thought we needed a more positive rebrand), is many of them buckling under a myriad number of 'cares'. View this post on Instagram A post shared by Melani Sanders (@justbeingmelani) My women are holding up the sky. Last week, one woman in our sharing circle talked about how she is only getting three hours of sleep a night and is worrying about burning out because she is single, looking after her mother with dementia, working full-time AND supporting her two sons. The boys are in their early 20s and are working for free as interns in London to try and get jobs in finance. Their mum is paying their rent to help them get on that first rung on the corporate ladder (AI has reduced the number of entry level graduate jobs available by 40 per cent, so competition is ferocious). I said maybe she should let them fend for themselves – but, like many parents, she is committed to helping them get launched in the world. And that is getting harder and harder, because this is a boomerang generation. Unsurprisingly, the poor lady looked close to collapse, and then she admitted she is worried about losing her own job. 'It's amazing how all the women get whacked as they hit 50,' she said. Redundancy is a massive midlife female 'care'. In the last week, I have been supporting five senior women with ostensibly amazing careers who have just been 'let go'. Their crime? To be over 50 in a world where gendered-ageism is real. It's not just the workplace where men have a whole life, and women a shelf life. Research conducted by my company found that, by 50, over half of women have been through at least five of the following: divorce, bereavement, redundancy, caring for elderly parents, or a Gen Z with an anxiety or mental health disorder (not to mention their own health issues, menopause, and other kinds of abuse). The midlife clusterf--- (as we call it). Add to that, the constant bombardment we women face from anti-ageing messages in our youth-obsessed culture, where freakishly young-looking female celebrities, from Nicole Kidman to Kris Jenner, are held up to us as exemplars of how we are supposed to look. And most of us can't just disappear into a We Do Not Care slob zone of stretchy tracksuit bottoms and witch hair chins, if we want to hang on to our already precarious places in the world. OK, if we work from home, we can slob around in work-out gear – but for most midlife women, it's just not as easy as saying We Do Not Care. We're told every day that our value is wrapped up in how we look. I'm all for throwing off the patriarchal programming, which values women primarily for being foxy and fecund. But I see so many women of my generation battling that conditioning. They're facing an internal war between their desire to move into a new phase of autonomy – letting it all hang out and putting their needs first – then oscillating back into caring very much indeed about their dependents, and how they keep their peckers up in the world. Why else is practically every woman I meet dosing themselves with Mounjaro? The tyranny to remain slim and sexy, and lose the dreaded 'meno belly' feels real. And it is depressingly omnipresent. Last month, for instance, I attended a launch at the House of Commons for a new campaign called What Women Want. It's supposed to be about ending violence against women, erasing the gender pay gap – all the big stuff. Ahead of it, Good Housekeeping magazine did a survey of its (mainly midlife) female readers asking them that very question: 'What do you want?' The top answer? 'To lose half a stone.' I told you: They Do Care. So while I love the devil may 'do not' care attitude to chin hairs and brassieres, clearing up after messy relatives and not pedicuring horny 50-something feet, this isn't the reality. We live in a culture where gendered ageism is alive and kicking, the pressures on midlife women are off the scale but nonetheless, we've got to stay in the game, because we don't get our pensions until we are 67 (and women retire with 35 per cent less in the pot than men). I'm afraid We Do Care because we HAVE to care. For now, Ms Sanders's vision is just a fantasy of what the world might be like if we valued older women for all that they are, not just their attempts to stay young. I applaud her mission, but I'm afraid it's not reality for most of yet. We'll know we really don't care when young women look forward to being middle aged, as the time when it all gets good – not dread every wrinkle as an impending sign of doom.
BBC News
09-07-2025
- Entertainment
- BBC News
Cornwall's Scary Little Girls theatre group awarded £18,000
A theatre company working in Cornwall has been awarded almost £20,000 to tell under-represented stories of women's experiences of menopause. Members of Scary Little Girls said they had been awarded the money to help them tell new stories through their show show had already had two sell-out tours in the county, the company said. Bosses added that they had been awarded £18,601 from the National Lottery Community Fund to work with women's groups in Penzance to collect stories of their experiences of menopause. 'More outsider voices' The show celebrates the older women and looks at the positive side of menopause. Artistic director Rebecca Mordan said: "We're now looking at how to make that just a single show, how can we make that a representation of lots of different women's experiences of menopause and that's what this work in Penzance will do."It will look at more outsider voices, women that are survivors of domestic violence, and women from very working class, possibly even economically very challenged backgrounds."We want to make sure we're expanding that dialogue." The Queenagers in Penzance project would be working in partnership with Women's Aid Penzance, Trelya and Voices from the Deep, bosses said. It would work with women from these groups to talk about menopause through a series of workshops, where they could share in whatever way they felt comfortable and could include recording a story, a performance delivered by themselves or others or sharing workshops were initially due to take place over 10 weeks, and then a further five weeks to develop the final piece of work, the group said.
