The announcement that WeightWatchers is heading towards bankruptcy came as little surprise. The company, once synonymous with diet culture, has shifted its focus towards offering pharmacological solutions to weight loss. This pivot, driven by the rise of GLP-1 agonists such as semaglutide (branded as Ozempic and Wegovy) and tirzepatide (branded as Mounjaro and Zepbound), marks a significant transformation in how we approach the body. Weight loss is no longer just about restrictive diets or exercise plans; now, it’s about injecting chemicals into our bodies to reach a target weight.
As someone who inhabits a fat body, I feel the weight of this cultural shift. Beyond losing the physical weight, the societal expectation is for us to shrink, conform, and disappear into an idealised version of thinness. What is concerning about this new wave of pharmaceutical interventions is not only the potential health risks of these medications but also the deeper cultural narrative they reinforce — that our worth is measured by a number on the scale and to deviate from that ideal is unacceptable.
GLP-1 agonists have emerged as the leading pharmaceutical solution for weight loss in the past few years. These drugs mimic the GLP-1 hormone, which is naturally released in the gut after eating. GLP-1 not only helps regulate insulin and blood sugar levels but also reduces appetite and slows gastric emptying, leading to prolonged satiety. These effects make GLP-1 agonists particularly effective in weight loss treatments, especially for individuals who have struggled with conventional dieting methods.
Semaglutide, marketed under the brand names Ozempic (for diabetes) and Wegovy (for weight loss), and tirzepatide, marketed as Mounjaro (for diabetes) and Zepbound
(for weight loss), have proven to be highly effective in clinical trials. Studies have shown that these drugs can lead to weight loss of 10-20% of a person’s initial body weight without the typical misery associated with traditional dieting regimens.
While the efficacy of these medications in promoting weight loss is undeniable, there are several concerns surrounding their side effects. The most common side effects include nausea, vomiting, diarrhoea and constipation. More serious effects include pancreatitis, gallstones, and gastroparesis. These medications, although touted as a breakthrough, are not without risks.
The term, ‘Ozempic face’, is popularly used to describe the facial changes that occur as a result of rapid weight loss, especially when a person loses a significant amount of weight in a short period. As the body sheds fat, the face often becomes hollow, and the skin sags, leading to an older, more gaunt appearance.
As a fat person, I have often felt the pressure of society’s gaze, always keenly aware of how my body deviates from the culturally accepted norm of thinness. When I reflect on the rise of GLP-1 drugs, I am conflicted. On the one hand, they appear to offer a form of harm reduction for people who face the medical complications of obesity, such as Type 2 diabetes, hypertension, and cardiovascular diseases. On the other hand, the widespread marketing of these drugs as the ultimate weight-loss solution risks perpetuating harmful societal attitudes towards fat bodies.
The question is not just whether these drugs can help people lose weight but whether this is the solution we should be endorsing. The marketing of Ozempic, Wegovy and Mounjaro feeds into the same narrative that has always been central to diet culture: that fatness is inherently problematic and that our bodies must be moulded to fit an idealised version of health and beauty.
Kate Manne’s book, Unshrinking: How to Face Fatphobia, offers a poignant critique of this pervasive societal mindset. Manne’s work unpacks how fatphobia is not merely an individual bias but a cultural construct that actively marginalises fat people in every sphere of life — from healthcare to employment. She highlights the deep psychological toll of living in a society where fatness is equated with moral failure, laziness, and even disease. Manne’s feminist lens allows for a more critical examination of how the pharmaceutical industry, in tandem with the media, reinforces these harmful ideologies. The rise of GLP-1 drugs, while offering potential health benefits for some individuals, is also a symptom of a much larger issue: the increasing medicalisation of fat bodies, which reduces complex health issues to a single solution — weight loss.
As the pharmaceutical industry grows more powerful, the debate about body image becomes increasingly entwined with morality. In the past, the weight-loss industry relied on personal responsibility and willpower. Today, however, the question is no longer about why you have not lost weight, but about why you are not using these drugs to achieve the ‘ideal’ body. The pharmaceutical solutions offered by semaglutide and tirzepatide are marketed as the easiest and most effective methods for achieving weight loss. But this raises a troubling question: if weight loss is the standard, what happens to those of us who choose not to, or cannot, fit into this framework?
While some may argue that Ozempic, Wegovy, and Mounjaro offer a lifeline for individuals struggling with obesity, the underlying message remains that thinness is morally superior. This new moral framework surrounding weight loss brings with it the assumption that thinness is the ultimate goal, a goal that can only be attained through the intervention of powerful pharmaceuticals.
The bankruptcy of WeightWatchers highlights a collapse of the traditional weight-loss industry, but it also signals the rise of a new, more insidious, form of body policing. These drugs promise a quick fix but, in doing so, they deepen the belief that our bodies are only valuable if they conform to a narrow standard of health and beauty. If we embrace these drugs as a solution, we risk reinforcing the harmful notion that fat bodies are inherently unworthy of respect, care, and acceptance. We must ask ourselves whether, in our attempt to shrink our bodies into conformity, we are sacrificing our dignity, our acceptance of diverse body types, and the chance to redefine health on our own terms.
The rise of GLP-1 drugs is a reminder that we must move beyond the simple equation of thinness as health and value. These drugs are not the answer to the deep-rooted cultural problem of fatphobia. Instead of focusing on drugs as a fix for obesity, we must work toward a world where all bodies are accepted, regardless of size. Further, as we confront the reality of a pharmaceutical-driven thinness culture, we must challenge the narrative that tells us our bodies must shrink in order to be worthy. It is time to liberate ourselves from the harm of both diet culture and pharmaceutical interventions and embrace a more inclusive definition of health.
Naina Bhargava is founder and editor of The Philosophy Project