kugelblitz
Explorer
This isn't my 1st rodeo with GLP-1 medication, though it has been quite a while since the last time — I had to stop liraglutide because of what it cost. Yesterday I injected 1 mg of retatrutide, and now it's 5 pm and I've gone the entire day without eating. I'm sure nobody in this community needs me to explain how huge that is for me, but honestly I couldn't explain it even if I wanted to, since no words I possess come close to conveying the scale of it.
For my whole life I've been at minimum overweight, and for the most part obese. Being viewed by the world as someone with a normal weight is something I have never experienced. That said, it has never been what defines me, and by and large I haven't had too hard a time being accepted by society. The mockery and derision that others — women in particular — have faced because of their weight is definitely not something I've ever felt. Being a man, apart from a handful of bros who don't actually mean me any harm, polite society is much too... polite, well, to make it obvious.
Even so, I have spent more days than I could count asking myself why I am the way I am. What stops me from controlling myself? Others can do it; is there something so lacking in whatever makes a person a person that I'm forced to stuff my face, give in to every craving, and eat both compulsively and without thought? This always stood out to me so sharply because, by my nature, I have almost no other vices at all. Smoking is something I've never done, recreational drugs are not something I use, I drink very little alcohol, and I've never gambled any significant sum. Every other part of my life has shown me what self-control feels like — except this one.
Control is something I have attempted. I have tried SO HARD. More nights than I can count were spent fighting myself over whether to get out of bed and eat whatever looked edible. More hours than I can count went into the gym; I dropped a great deal of weight purely through willpower and meticulous calorie counting, and the instant life drained away my singular focus, I was right back where I started, putting the weight on again. Every approach has been tried.
And then, 1 mg of a white powder sent to me by a somewhat questionable Chinese lab and... blessed silence. It's finished. As if someone flipped a switch. It's vanished. Is this really the way other people live? They aren't driven by some biological quirk to devote at least part of every waking moment to thoughts of the next meal? They simply go about their lives, eating to meet their energy needs rather than in a futile effort to fill some endless pit inside them that dooms them either to cramming food into their mouths or to obsessively dwelling on the next time they'll cram food into their mouths.
Honestly, now that the proof of my own experience has hit me this hard, I don't know what to do with myself. Perhaps — just perhaps — I need to think about setting down all the guilt that has pressed on me even more heavily than all the excess weight I've carried my entire life. Could it be that this isn't entirely my fault?
I hope you'll pardon all this rambling. A genuine moment of catharsis is happening to me right now, and the only chance I have of reaching anyone who might get it is you, my dear internet strangers.
If this moment I'm in right now is one you've had too, please say so. I'd like to hear it.
Thank you for putting up with me.
For my whole life I've been at minimum overweight, and for the most part obese. Being viewed by the world as someone with a normal weight is something I have never experienced. That said, it has never been what defines me, and by and large I haven't had too hard a time being accepted by society. The mockery and derision that others — women in particular — have faced because of their weight is definitely not something I've ever felt. Being a man, apart from a handful of bros who don't actually mean me any harm, polite society is much too... polite, well, to make it obvious.
Even so, I have spent more days than I could count asking myself why I am the way I am. What stops me from controlling myself? Others can do it; is there something so lacking in whatever makes a person a person that I'm forced to stuff my face, give in to every craving, and eat both compulsively and without thought? This always stood out to me so sharply because, by my nature, I have almost no other vices at all. Smoking is something I've never done, recreational drugs are not something I use, I drink very little alcohol, and I've never gambled any significant sum. Every other part of my life has shown me what self-control feels like — except this one.
Control is something I have attempted. I have tried SO HARD. More nights than I can count were spent fighting myself over whether to get out of bed and eat whatever looked edible. More hours than I can count went into the gym; I dropped a great deal of weight purely through willpower and meticulous calorie counting, and the instant life drained away my singular focus, I was right back where I started, putting the weight on again. Every approach has been tried.
And then, 1 mg of a white powder sent to me by a somewhat questionable Chinese lab and... blessed silence. It's finished. As if someone flipped a switch. It's vanished. Is this really the way other people live? They aren't driven by some biological quirk to devote at least part of every waking moment to thoughts of the next meal? They simply go about their lives, eating to meet their energy needs rather than in a futile effort to fill some endless pit inside them that dooms them either to cramming food into their mouths or to obsessively dwelling on the next time they'll cram food into their mouths.
Honestly, now that the proof of my own experience has hit me this hard, I don't know what to do with myself. Perhaps — just perhaps — I need to think about setting down all the guilt that has pressed on me even more heavily than all the excess weight I've carried my entire life. Could it be that this isn't entirely my fault?
I hope you'll pardon all this rambling. A genuine moment of catharsis is happening to me right now, and the only chance I have of reaching anyone who might get it is you, my dear internet strangers.
If this moment I'm in right now is one you've had too, please say so. I'd like to hear it.
Thank you for putting up with me.