My friends are on Ozempic, here’s why I’m not judging

When changing your body becomes a shortcut to joy, what are we skipping?

Over the past few months, I’ve had quiet, sometimes hesitant conversations with friends — people I love and trust — who’ve either started Ozempic (or similar) or are thinking about it.

The conversation is always begun with eyes darting around and a guilty looking face as I’m being told about their decision. What strikes me most isn’t the decision itself, but the way some of them tiptoe around telling me, almost like they expect judgment. Maybe it’s because I talk about body acceptance, or I’m so open about my journey with my own body resulting in a platform rooted in confidence and self-love. But I want to set the record straight.

my weight fluctuates constantly and it's mostly related to my mental health. i've been on both ends of the spectrum, and neither gave me a glow up like doing the inner work has

Let me be clear: I’m not anti-Ozempic. I’m not anti-weight loss. I’m not anti-whatever-you-need-to-do-to-feel-good-in-your-body. How YOU want YOUR body to be is YOUR choice, not mine.

What I am for is being honest with yourself about why you want to change — and not placing all your hope for joy, confidence, and connection in a smaller body.

I've lived in a body that society celebrated and I’ve lived in a body it didn’t. The biggest shifts in my confidence have never come from changing my body

— they’ve come from changing my relationship with it.

So what are we skipping when we chase joy through changing our bodies?

We're skipping the deeper work — the uncomfortable but liberating journey of building self-respect, self-trust, and genuine confidence.
We're skipping the slow, sacred process of learning to show up fully as we are — not just when we feel smaller, smoother, tighter, or more “acceptable.”
We're skipping the joy that comes from knowing you are worthy before and beyond any transformation.
We're skipping sustainable joy — the kind that isn’t dependent on a dosage, a number on a scale, or external validation.

True joy doesn’t come from the mirror.
It comes from how you speak to yourself when no one else is around.

If Ozempic helps you feel more in control or relieves a burden, I honour that. If it’s something you’re choosing for health or comfort or even aesthetics — I get it.

But I’ll always ask: what else are you doing to nurture your joy? To connect to yourself beyond your weight?

I once thought dropping a stone would make me feel invincible at a party. That the happiness would come WHEN I changed. I created this idealised place, where the weight comes off and somehow my joy goes up. It didn’t. The invincibility came after doing the inner work, making peace with my appearance and giving less fucks about what I thought people thought of me.

So if you’re on Ozempic, or thinking about it — I see you. I love you. And I’m not judging you. But I will remind you, gently and with all the love in my heart: the glow doesn’t come from shrinking. It comes from rising.

Thoughts?

Love Always XX Jules