I have been taking the injectable weight loss medication tirzepatide, better known as Mounjaro, off and on (mostly on) since 2023.

That’s right, I was in the throes of an active eating disorder and subsequent treatment whilst taking the highest dose of the most powerful medication of its kind.

Mounjaro’s intended use is to (with diet and exercise) improve blood sugar in those with Type 2 Diabetes.

However, I slipped through the cracks. As far as I know, there is no requirement for a mental health screening before being perscribed the medication. I wouldn’t dare to imply negligence on the part of any of the prescribing physicians, ultimately I have to take responsibility for my actions. But Mounjaro definitely exacerbated a long semi-dormant eating disorder.

A common side effect of the medication is nausea and the common off-label intended effect is appetite reduction. Those effects joined with my tendency towards restrictive behaviors to form a Megazord capable of completely defeating the appetite of an Ariel. I started refusing meals, eventually living off of water and Dr Pepper for several weeks. My weight plummeted to a number that was intentionally kept from me until it was accidentally revealed to me at the rehabilitation facility.

The number 178 is stamped on my gooey-gooey brain like a brand on a steer’s ass. I’m sure it was lower at one point, but that’s the number I know and love have a fraught relationship with. I don’t actually remember much of life sub-200 pounds, my brain was no longer functioning on all cylinders and I was regularly passing out all over the DFW metroplex. The memories of this time are hazy at best.

Having an eating disorder is a lifelong struggle. Recovery is possible, but the journey is long and difficult. On the bad days, I berate myself for clothes that fit last year and don’t this year. I ruminate over pounds packed on. I think about the life I could have had. I think about the life I almost lost completely.

I’m still taking Mounjaro. In fact, tonight is wrestling and shot night in America (for me, at least). It’s not as effective as it used to be, oh cruel fates. While my body is still irrevocably changed from the image I’ve faced in the mirror, due to the tummy tuck, I still have vague memories of my sick body and miss it.

I know this all sounds quite grim, but I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds. I’m nourishing my body and I am a work in progress. I do feel grateful to be alive.

Of course, I caution against the casual use of any and all of the injectibles (I also used Ozempic at one point.), but Mounjaro specifically? I give it zero stars, would not recommend, an F, thumbs down.

If you’re reading this, I love you.