Let me be clear – I’m not a doctor, and I’m not here to judge anyone’s body. My thoughts on weight-loss injections come from firsthand experience and stories shared by friends.

And lately, they’ve been sharing a lot.

The word on the street? That so-called ‘miracle jab’ isn’t looking quite so miraculous anymore.

Take what a girlfriend in Sydney told me last week: she managed to gain six kilos in just two months on Mounjaro – six kilos!

She was bored and lonely after her husband left, and somehow managed to ‘out-eat’ the injection by living mostly on ice cream. (And yes, this is possible: GLP-1 drugs like Mounjaro suppress appetite, but emotional eating can override their effects.)

Three more of my friends have ditched the jabs – each for different reasons. One felt constantly nauseous and battled frequent diarrhoea. Another disliked her new body, saying she had no energy for the gym and had lost all her muscle.

The third simply said she ‘missed food’.

I’d miss food too if my appetite were completely zapped by a jab. Surely extravagant brunches and indulgent dinners are among life’s greatest pleasures?

Mounjaro has been hailed as a miracle cure for obesity – and in many cases, it seems to live up to the name.

Originally developed to treat type 2 diabetes, the injection quickly found a second, more glamorous purpose – weight loss – much like Botox, which transitioned from treating muscle spasms to smoothing wrinkles.

And let’s be honest – if shedding kilos were as simple as a quick jab, we’d all be lining up.

Oh wait – we already are.

It started with celebrities sporting suddenly slimmer faces and shrinking waists. Men and women once known for their ‘fat and jolly’ image appeared newly lean, rather gaunt, and frankly, a little less jolly.

Soon, word spread like wildfire: weight-loss injections weren’t just a celebrity secret – they were suddenly available to anyone. What began as a hard-to-get drug became something you could score with the right doctor.

WhatsApp chats turned into support groups for jabbing mums – swapping tips, side effects, dosing schedules and nausea horror stories.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve bumped into an old friend on the street and barely recognised them because they’d slimmed down so rapidly.

But something strange is happening.

Women – some of them dear friends – who once championed Ozempic, Mounjaro and Wegovy are now quietly ditching the jabs.

Side effects – premature ageing, fatigue, depression – are catching up with them. Not to mention the loss of muscle tone.

Friends who were once sculpted and strong now say they’re too fatigued to lift weights. Their once-taut muscles have vanished, leaving them looking ‘skinny fat’.

And as for my dear friend who actually gained weight on Mounjaro? She’s devastated.

I feel her pain – but am I shocked? Not really.

Here’s the catch: weight-loss injections might slim you down, and they might dim the ‘food noise’ – but the moment you stop, you’re back to square one.

We’ve all heard horror stories from people who quit GLP-1 drugs due to side effects, only to pile the weight back on afterwards.

They realise that while the medication quieted the voice in their head – the one urging them to eat, eat, eat – that voice never truly disappeared. It was just muzzled.

And this is what the Mounjaro mums are starting to realise: an injection can suppress your appetite, but it can’t unravel a woman’s lifelong, emotionally tangled relationship with food, body image and self-worth.

Nothing can do that – except the kind of deep, deliberate self-work and therapy that takes time, commitment, and often, years.

I spent years untangling my own complicated relationship with food – having battled anorexia as a child, a teen and a young adult.

My weight may be healthy now, but I know the reality of counting every calorie and obsessing about what I eat all day, every day. And here’s the truth: eating disorders are never just about appetite. They’re rooted in control, emotion, stress and trauma.

Drugs like semaglutide (Ozempic, Wegovy) and tirzepatide (Mounjaro) reduce appetite by mimicking gut hormones – but they don’t rewire the brain, and they certainly can’t heal the deep psychological wounds many women carry.

Don’t get me wrong – Mounjaro can be life-changing for those with serious health conditions linked to obesity. I would never tell someone not to take it if a doctor said it could help them.

But many of my friends on Mounjaro aren’t obese – they never were. What they struggle with is managing the vices they turn to for comfort: chocolate, cake, booze, junk food.

By seeking a medical fix for what is essentially a psychological problem, I’ve watched these women shrink before my eyes – and I’ve seen the light fade from their gaze.

A part of me was jealous at first. Now? Not so much.

Part of the wisdom that comes with age is knowing that dropping a dress size doesn’t guarantee happiness. The Mounjaro mums are finally starting to realise that.

Throw in a bunch of unpleasant side effects, and a growing number of women are deciding that GLP-1 injections are just not worth it.

Now the healing needs to start.

NEW TO DAILYMAIL+? READ MORE FROM OUR COLUMNISTS

Trump just humiliated Harry and Meghan with two brutal words… but even more embarrassing is the reason they’re having to stay silent: MAUREEN CALLAHAN

LIZ JONES: Men always want a younger woman, and I know the sad reason why. Have them, you boring saps – I’m done with you

AMANDA PLATELL: I’m so disgusted with myself for the cruel thing I said about Kate… I’m choking on my words now I know the truth. Kate, I’m just so sorry.

Brian To’o’s shocking remarks about WAGs reveal the sad truth about a certain type of married man that all women think but dare not say aloud: AMANDA GOFF

The dirty, rotten deal at the heart of Higgins v Reynolds: Yes, her tweets were foolish lies – but everyone in Canberra knows how this all REALLY started: PVO

A week ago, I had a one-night stand with a gorgeous guy. Now I fear I’ve been seen naked by hundreds of men… JANA HOCKING