On a Wednesday evening a couple of weeks ago, a friend and I stifled giggles as we sat on her bed.
The door was firmly shut, in case our children tried to barge in. And what we were about to do felt as naughty and illicit as that first cigarette behind the bike sheds as schoolgirls.
In front of us was my friend’s Wegovy injection ‘pen’ – which is, alongside Ozempic, one of the self-administered weight-loss jabs that have taken the world by storm. And she was offering to share it with me so I could see for myself what it was like.
But I am not overweight – far from it. My body mass index (BMI) is 21.7, at the lower end of the ‘normal’ range, while my friend is slim and elegant with a glossy Instagram feed in which she looks fabulous (and thin).
So what, you might rightly ask, were the two of us doing with a prescription-only medication used to tackle severe obesity and type 2 diabetes? In hindsight, I wonder the same thing. In fact, I can’t believe I was so stupid and bitterly regret my experiment.
Charlotte Griffiths tried the Wegovy injection ‘pen’ – which is, alongside Ozempic, one of the self-administered weight-loss jabs that have taken the world by storm
But what we did is far from unusual. We are among a growing number of middle-aged mums who are experimenting with this powerful drug, not to combat serious health issues, but for vanity and curiosity.
Weight-loss jabs like Wegovy have been a hot topic of conversation at my children’s school gates in west London for months – who is using it, what it’s like and, crucially, how to get it. Women get together when they want to lose a few pounds, maybe a few weeks before a holiday, without the faff of diet and exercise, by having a go on ‘The Pen’, as it’s known. They even have a name for it – Wegovy Wednesdays.
The point of doing it on a Wednesday is to make sure any side effects, such as the well-documented post-jab nausea, have passed before the weekend.
By then the active ingredient, semaglutide, will have peaked in your system, ensuring you’ll be less tempted to binge on takeaways and alcohol. There’s even a TikTok hashtag – #WegovyWednesday – celebrating the trend, with millions of videos giving advice.
The reason I’m blowing the lid on this frankly shameful behaviour is as a warning. I want other women to know the horrific consequences I suffered, and not follow such a ridiculous, dangerous trend.
And I’ve discovered that doctors are increasingly worried about it, too.
Last month, Professor Stephen Powis, national medical director for NHS England, said he was alarmed at the number of young people using the weight-loss drugs as a ‘quick fix’ to get ‘beach-body ready’.
And Dr Vicky Price, of the Society For Acute Medicine, has warned that ‘increasing numbers of patients’ are showing up at hospitals with ‘complications from new weight-loss drugs they have purchased online’. And I almost became one of them.
It might sound shocking, but Wegovy and Ozempic have been in the headlines as a magic bullet for the overweight and the obese for some time now. Celebrities including Elon Musk, Rebel Wilson and Oprah Winfrey have confirmed they used the drug to slim down. As a journalist, I know loads more famous names that are secretly using it. Many were far from overweight to begin with. And there is no doubt it works.
Semaglutide floods the body with a version of a natural ‘appetite hormone’, GLP-1, which sends signals to the brain that the stomach is full. NHS guidelines state that the jabs should be offered only to people who have a BMI of at least 30 (less for some ethnicities which are prone to health problems at a lower BMI) and one weight-related health condition, such as high blood pressure or diabetes.
But it is still easy to get hold of if you don’t meet this criteria.
One friend revealed there were pharmacists who could be sweet-talked into handing over a prescription. Others had gone to private doctors, while some had managed to get it from online pharmacies by lying about their weight.
One firm had required a photograph as evidence of obesity, so another friend manipulated one – adding her own head to the body of an overweight stranger. While this attempt was rejected by the online pharmacy, it didn’t take long for her to find another company which didn’t require a photograph.
Charlotte says weight-loss jabs like Wegovy have been a hot topic of conversation at her children’s school gates in west London for months. Pictured with her son James
Speaking to experts, they are horrified that women like us are experimenting with a prescription drug. As Professor David Strain, from University of Exeter who also runs a community diabetes service, points out: ‘There is no evidence from trials of semaglutide on healthy, normal weight individuals, so we simply don’t know what the risks might be.
‘We don’t know what might happen to your natural production of gut hormones such as GLP-1 if you take it when you don’t need to.’
Prof Strain explains that people who are overweight don’t produce enough of these gut hormones after eating, which is why they eat more. For them, taking Wegovy addresses that deficiency and makes them feel fuller for longer.
I’ll admit that, after all of our gossiping about Wegovy, I was curious to try it.
After three children I’ve lost my flat tummy and I’m 7lb heavier than I was before I had my third baby last year.
I can’t get into my favourite pre-baby jeans, which bothers me, and I’m a child of the 1990s, taught to believe the Kate Moss mantra that ‘nothing tastes as good as skinny feels’.
I might have started to care less about this as I approach my 40th birthday in November, but it’s hard to shake off those agonising years of fretting about the scales. And there’s a genuine feeling out there among thirtysomething mums that you can have a quick go on The Pen rather than endure weeks of crash dieting before squeezing into a swimsuit. So I rationalised trying out Wegovy, just once, as a fun experiment with a friend.
‘This is just a cheeky little circuit breaker to help me get back into my pre-baby jeans,’ I told myself. ‘I’ll just do this one jab.’
When I was collecting my daughter from a playdate at my friend’s house that evening, she ushered me inside as we giggled over the naughtiness of it all.
Sitting on her bed, I pinched a small roll of flesh in my stomach and squeezed my eyes shut as she gave me the shot. I didn’t really feel a thing. By the time I left ten minutes later, I was a little dazed.
In February, 27-year-old Shannon Flannery, from Kent, was hospitalised after taking an injection of semaglutide – the active ingredient in Ozempic and Wegovy
Last month, mother-of-three Stacey Smith was left so sick she thought she was ‘going to die’ after taking a weight-loss jab she bought on Facebook
Trish Webster was prescribed Semaglutide by a doctor. She lost 35lb (16kg) but suffered constant nausea and vomiting. In January 2023 she collapsed at her home and died later that evening in hospital
At home I ate a bowl of pasta and went to bed. But when I woke the next morning, I felt hungover.
The brain fog was savage. I made a black coffee but felt repulsed by it. A sip of water felt equally abhorrent. When I brushed my teeth the toothpaste was hideous in my dry mouth. By the time I got to work, I felt depressed.
Before a meeting I took a bite of a protein bar for a quick sugar hit, but 20 minute later felt a surge of nausea. I only just made it to the toilet, where I was violently sick three times.
Feeling faint, I went for a quick walk for some fresh air, but the sunshine was so bright it felt as if I’d emerged from a dark cinema. Everything felt weird, and I have little doubt it was linked to my Wegovy jab.
By 3pm I went home from work with migraine symptoms and a vicious need to be alone in a dark room. My husband was away, so I engaged emergency babysitters to look after the children because I was so drained of energy.
The next morning was the same. I tried some grapes but was sick.
I was also incredibly anxious. In 2020 I had suffered a nasty bout of post-natal depression, and the dark cloud that was descending felt frighteningly familiar. It was like the joy had been sucked out of everything and life felt flat.
It was becoming increasingly clear that I had poisoned myself, and I called my friend who admitted that I’d had a large dose.
‘Well, I suppose it did take three months to build up to a 1mg dose,’ she mused, casually.
I’ve since discovered that you’re supposed to start at 0.25mg and build up slowly over several weeks to larger amounts.
Celebrities such as Rebel Wilson have confirmed they used weight-loss drugs to slim down
I felt so awful, and in my state of panic I wondered if I could I die from this.
I survived, thankfully. But I have read a number of stories of women who have experimented like I did and been hospitalised (see panel above).
Since the jab I have been barely able to eat due to waves of nausea. I have lost weight but I look as unwell as I feel. It’s not good.
Prof Strain says this is ‘to be expected’ in otherwise healthy people, adding: ‘The feeling of flatness is not surprising because these drugs suppress the pleasure sensor that goes with food.
‘They also help with other addictive behaviour, and we see people who were heavy drinkers or smokers or even gamblers find it easier to quit those habits, precisely because the pleasure hit they get from it is dulled. If you don’t have any of those problems and your healthy receptors are barraged by these drugs, the chances are you’ll lose interest in pretty much everything. Pleasure will disappear out of your life.
‘Around 20 per cent of people taking it for type 2 diabetes report suffering nausea in the clinical trials. But if you’re using it inappropriately, chances are the rates would be much higher.’
I’m so cross with myself that I succumbed to a sort of peer pressure when I really didn’t need to. The irony is that, before this, I was the healthiest I’ve ever been. I no longer drink alcohol, smoke or do anything else harmful to my body. It’s taken years of hard work to get here and it feels stupid to have voluntarily poisoned myself.
The bleakest part was realising there was no short cut to make the side effects go away – Wegovy stays in your system for weeks.
I eventually tried anti-nausea medication to help me to stop being sick, and have had to cancel all my exercise classes. I’ve even had to stop walking my daughter to school.
What worries me now is that slender women are using this drug because they already have a warped view of what they should look like, or an eating disorder.
The fact it’s so easily accessible is particularly concerning, especially as the NHS is struggling to get enough supplies to meet the demand from those who truly need it for medical reasons.
Professor Naveed Sattar, an obesity expert at the University of Glasgow, says: ‘We have to tighten the system so people who are not eligible to get these drugs aren’t able to misuse them.
‘The major goal is to get enough of these drugs into the NHS to people who really need it. For them, they can be lifechanging.’
And Prof Strain points out that without oversight from a professional these drugs could even cause serious harm in some people.
‘Particularly those with a family history of rare endocrine or thyroid tumours,’ he says. ‘Who should not be prescribed semaglutide as studies suggested it fuelled the tumour.’
‘People at risk of pancreatitis should also not take it.’
I am now trying to put the weight back on so I feel myself again. My appetite is creeping back but I find I only really fancy sweets, chips and bread – whereas before I enjoyed eating nourishing food. Once the jab fully wears off I plan to restore proper nutrition to my life.
I do fit into my pre-baby jeans again but – and this is a lesson to anyone – putting them on didn’t give me the joy and sense of achievement I expected.
I took them off an hour later as they were a depressing reminder of how stupid I had been.
And instead of spending £50 on Wegovy and another £200 on emergency babysitters while I was ill, I could have treated myself to a nice pair of new jeans which actually fit me.
There have been more than 7,200 serious adverse reactions to weight-loss jabs reported in the UK since 2019, according to Government figures.
Powerful jabs… but with risks
Weight-loss jabs have already been linked with 20 deaths across Britain, and many people have been left severely unwell after using them.
In February, 27-year-old Shannon Flannery, from Kent, was hospitalised after taking an injection of semaglutide – the active ingredient in Ozempic and Wegovy.
The mother-of-two – who weighed 13 stone – bought ten weeks’ worth of jabs on Instagram for £120. Within a day of taking the first injection, Shannon began vomiting and, after the second, noticed blood in her urine.
She was admitted to hospital where medics claimed that taking one more so-called ‘skinny jab’ could have been fatal.
Last month, mother-of-three Stacey Smith was left so sick she thought she was ‘going to die’ after taking a weight-loss jab she bought on Facebook.
The 38-year-old, who is a size 12 to 14, paid £20 for the jab and claimed the process took ‘two minutes’. The next day she began to projectile vomit, and her 13-year-old daughter was forced to call an ambulance.
And, tragically, a 56-year-old mother from Australia was last year feared to have died after suffering a fatal side effect linked to semaglutide.
Trish Webster, who wanted to lose weight in time for her daughter’s wedding, was prescribed the drug by a doctor.
She lost 35lb (16kg) but suffered constant nausea and vomiting. In January 2023 she collapsed at her home and died later that evening in hospital. Doctors recorded her death as ‘acute gastrointestinal illness’ and noted that semaglutide had been linked to fatal intestine blockages.
‘I didn’t know that could happen to a person,’ said her husband, Roy. ‘It’s just not worth it, it’s not worth it at all.’