As someone who has lost nearly 25 kilos on the weight-loss jab Mounjaro, I still think it's worth paying for despite this week's price increase. But is it fair?
The price of my (private) prescription has risen from £200 to £300 per month as a result of manufacturer Eli Lilly bowing to pricing pressure from Donald Trump. If I lived in the US and wasn't covered by health insurance, I'd probably pay much more, which has drawn the president's ire. While the UK price rise wasn't as steep as initial reports suggested, I fear it will make losing weight an unaffordable luxury for many obese people.
I fully expect some readers to be thinking: "Good! The lazy salad dodgers can try and lose weight the hard way and exercise some willpower." Well, I had been trying "the hard way" for two years. After the age of 45, nothing I did to slim down as a younger woman seemed to work.
I managed to lose 10 pounds after my GP referred me to a 12-week weight loss programme in my local leisure centre, but each pound was a struggle. I constantly felt not just hungry, but "hangry". By contrast, the silencing of so-called food noise that many people on the jab speak of is exactly why I was able to stick to the diet and exercise regime I currently enjoy. I cannot tell you how motivating it is to see the scales finally start to move down.
Two in three adults in Britain are thought to be overweight or obese, a health crisis that Frontier Economics claims costs the UK £126bn a year. An estimated 1.5mn people in the UK are taking GLP-1 drugs to suppress their appetite, with around half on Mounjaro, dubbed the "King Kong" of weight loss jabs. The majority pay for private prescriptions -- only the most severely obese stand a chance of getting these drugs via the NHS, where waiting lists are long.
Before I ordered my first pen with the blessing of my doctor, I did a lot of research. I was very concerned about potential side effects (mercifully, I have experienced very few) and the as-yet-unknown longer term consequences. However, I felt the risks of carrying excess weight were greater. As someone who writes about longevity and retirement, I was particularly focused on extending my healthy life expectancy. I never wanted to be "thin"; I wanted to regain fitness and achieve and maintain a healthy weight.
The sudden price rise, while unwelcome, is something my budget can absorb. However, polls conducted by online pharmacies suggest large numbers of private patients will switch to cheaper alternatives such as Wegovy. There are fears that more people will turn to the UK's thriving black market. Last week, a friend of a friend offered to put me in touch with her supplier in India (I politely declined). Others may stop taking the jab altogether.
Like them, I am fearful of putting weight back on when I start reducing my dose. To guard against this, I have completely overhauled my diet. Tim Spector, the founder of Zoe, a personalised nutrition company, has spoken passionately about the need to educate yourself about nutrition while on weight loss drugs, rather than consuming less of what you were already eating. I learned a lot from doing the Zoe tests and wearing a blood sugar monitor, but didn't lose much weight.
After 10 months on the jab, I am nearing my goal weight and feeling fitter and stronger than I have in years (note: resistance training is a must to avoid losing muscle mass). The free weights I'd purchased under lockdown were gathering dust, but I have found salvation in fitness guru Suzi J on Instagram, and joined a gym class where 70-year-olds were confidently and inspirationally lifting much heavier weights than me.
All of the above has cost money, but I consider it an investment in my future health. So it saddens me that other obese people, who desperately want to be healthier, could find themselves priced out of losing weight.
I've received heartbreaking messages on social media this week from women with polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS) who say their symptoms have been transformed by using Mounjaro, yet they can no longer afford it.
When you consider the future cost of treating the consequences of rising obesity, there's an argument that access to these drugs on the NHS should be expanded alongside greater investment in preventive healthcare and so-called wraparound services. In my experience, there is a lot that NHS GPs can do if you ask for help with weight loss, even though very few people currently qualify for these drugs on prescription. But imagine how the health of the nation could be transformed if they were.
The obesity epidemic is a growing political issue as government spending on welfare and out-of-work benefits spirals. In the most deprived areas of England, healthy life expectancy ends in your early 50s. In the least deprived areas, it extends to your early 70s -- a spread of 18 years. Common comorbidities of obesity, such as diabetes, heart disease, osteoarthritis, and an increased risk of certain cancers, are a drain not just on NHS budgets, but on economic output. Frontier estimates that reducing obesity prevalence by just 1 per cent could recover £245mn in lost productivity costs. Impressive savings, but the problem is, who will fund the upfront costs?
Spector has previously argued that ministers should "start treating ultra-processed food like cigarettes" calling for more sin taxes on the food companies that manufacture them. I feel profoundly lucky to have been able to self-fund my own treatment, but the growing health inequalities in the UK make me feel very sick indeed.