Tirzepatide Ate My Eating Disorder: But the Panic Stayed for Dessert

Like many, I’ve always had an “it’s complicated” relationship with my body. I don’t know if it started with my mother, her mother, or Elizabeth Hurley in that Versace safety pin dress she wore to the premiere of Four Weddings and a Funeral in 1994; all I know is that I’ve spent the majority of my life feeling like I could be better. At the root, there are, of course, deeper psychological issues- inherited trauma, perfectionism, systemic racism, post-traumatic stress from having a dad who wrote diet books and a mom who wore thong bikinis, but the result is a spirit constantly negotiating between self-acceptance and self-betrayal. And while I’ve grown and healed in many ways, that old voice-the one that whispers “almost, but not quite”—still lingers, softer now, but present.

Since I was around twenty years old, I’ve used my body as a way to exert control over my life. I went through bouts of anorexia, bulimia, orthorexia, and whatever that disorder is where you try to make all your girlfriends order dessert. I ebbed and I flowed, assuming that my struggle, whether active or in remission, would always be a part of who I was. I lived the way most recovered addicts live. I had days and years where I felt stable. But I also experienced times when I’d find myself back in that too familiar spiral, wondering if I’d ever be truly free.

Peptides first popped onto my radar about a year ago, when the wellness world couldn’t stop talking about their anti-aging benefits. I was already familiar with GLP-1s, but mainly had associated them with dramatic weight loss. What I didn’t realize was that, in small microdoses, medications like tirzepatide could also cut my cholesterol in half and, more surprisingly, quiet the constant, exhausting noise food created in my mind.

“ Before I get on a statin, maybe I should try a GLP-1,” I said to my doctor.

I knew what I was proposing sounded like the most fucked up anorexic thing I’d ever said, second only to, “Steamed, hold the bun, dressing on the side.” but, I was desperate. I needed to know if this “miracle drug” actually worked.