The landscape of celebrity weight loss has undergone a seismic shift over the last two years, moving away from the era of "green juice and yoga" toward a more clinical, albeit controversial, reality. At the center of this transformation are GLP-1 receptor agonists—medications like Ozempic, Wegovy, and Mounjaro—which were originally designed to treat Type 2 diabetes but have since become the most talked-about tools in the Hollywood aesthetic arsenal. While the initial wave of the trend was defined by hushed whispers and adamant denials, a new chapter has emerged: one characterized by radical transparency, cautionary tales, and a fierce debate over the ethics of medicalized thinness.
For years, the gold standard for celebrity image management was to attribute any physical change to rigorous discipline. Khloe Kardashian, a perennial target of tabloid speculation, has been one of the most vocal defenders of the "hard work" narrative. Responding to social media users who suggested her physique was the result of a pharmaceutical shortcut, Kardashian pointed to her grueling routine. "Let’s not discredit my years of working out," she told a commenter in early 2023, noting that she wakes up five days a week at 6:00 a.m. to train. However, her stance has softened into one of non-judgment. By the end of that year, she noted that regardless of whether people choose surgery or the "Ozempic craze," the ultimate goal is personal confidence. "As long as people feel good about themselves, who am I to judge?" she remarked, signaling a shift toward body neutrality.
Others, however, have grown weary of the perceived dishonesty permeating the industry. Comedian Amy Schumer has become an unofficial whistleblower for the movement, calling out peers who attribute dramatic weight loss to "smaller portions" while secretly utilizing injections. Schumer’s critique is rooted in her own experience; she was forthcoming about her 50-pound weight loss journey, which involved a combination of plastic surgery and Mounjaro. Her honesty serves as a rebuttal to the "shut the f–k up" culture of Hollywood secrecy. Schumer’s relationship with the drug was complicated, however, by the physical toll it took. Dealing with Cushing Syndrome and endometriosis, she found that the side effects of semaglutide made it impossible to maintain her quality of life. "I was one of those people that felt so sick and couldn’t play with my son," she shared, highlighting the reality that these "miracle" drugs are not without significant biological costs.
This sentiment is echoed by many who found the side effects to be a dealbreaker. Model Brooks Nader, for instance, admitted to trying Ozempic when it first gained traction but found that the resulting nausea interfered with her professional commitments. While competing on Dancing With the Stars, she realized she couldn’t balance the medication’s drain on her energy with the physical demands of the ballroom. "I lost a little bit of the motivation and the strength to work out," she explained, ultimately choosing the dance floor over the syringe. Similarly, Kendra Wilkinson abandoned the injections after just one dose, citing "horror stories" of friends ending up in the emergency room.
Perhaps the most harrowing account of the risks associated with improper use comes from Lottie Moss. The model revealed that she was hospitalized after taking a dosage meant for someone significantly heavier than her current weight. The resulting dehydration led to a seizure, an experience she described as the scariest moment of her life. Her story serves as a stark reminder of the dangers of "off-label" use without strict medical supervision, particularly in an industry that often prioritizes rapid results over long-term safety.
Despite these warnings, a growing number of celebrities view GLP-1s as a vital tool for health rather than just a "glamazon" accessory. Jonathan Van Ness of Queer Eye fame turned to the medication following a health scare in 2023. For Van Ness, the decision was about feeling better physically rather than conforming to a specific look, though they admitted that the resulting physical changes have boosted their confidence. "My body has never looked like this… I feel really good," they noted, while still emphasizing that a person’s worth is not defined by their size. This intersection of medical necessity and aesthetic benefit is also where stars like Rosie O’Donnell and Raven-Symoné land. O’Donnell has been open about using Mounjaro to manage her health since 2022, while Raven-Symoné has urged the public to "save the medication for the people who actually need it," rather than using it solely for vanity.
The conversation has also moved into the realm of family and partnership. Meghan Trainor and husband Daryl Sabara embarked on a weight-loss journey together, eventually incorporating low-dose Mounjaro after hearing positive reports from friends and doctors. For the couple, the medication was a supplement to a balanced lifestyle and the "75 Hard" challenge. This "lifestyle tool" approach is shared by Caroline Stanbury, who utilized Ozempic to navigate the metabolic challenges of her 40s. "I don’t want to lie to you," Stanbury told her podcast listeners, "I think it is one of the best tools if you’re able to use it."
Yet, for every success story, there is a narrative of failure or rejection. Kandi Burruss admitted that the drug simply didn’t work for her, failing to curb her appetite and leaving her feeling depressed as she watched others achieve easy results. Lizzo, a champion of body positivity, also experimented with the injections but ultimately decided that "mind over matter" was her preferred path. She argued that if the goal is to eat less, she would rather achieve that through mental discipline than pharmaceutical intervention.
The social and psychological impact of the Ozempic era is perhaps most visible in the comments of those who refuse to participate. Little Mix alum Jade Thirlwall, who has been candid about her history with anorexia, described a "daily battle" to resist the temptation of the drug amid constant public scrutiny of her body. For those with a history of disordered eating, the prevalence of a "quick fix" injection can be a dangerous trigger. This concern is mirrored by Sophie Turner, who slammed the "WTF" nature of weight-loss advertisements plastered across public transit, arguing that the pervasive marketing of "one shot to lose weight" is culturally damaging.
As the pharmaceutical industry continues to evolve—with newer iterations like Tirzepatide showing even higher efficacy—the celebrity discourse is likely to become even more nuanced. Stars like Sharon and Kelly Osbourne have championed the idea that there is no shame in using science to aid weight loss. "It’s not a dirty little secret," Sharon asserted, while Kelly praised the medication for making a difficult process less "boring" than traditional gym culture.
Ultimately, the "Ozempic era" has forced Hollywood to confront its long-standing obsession with thinness through a new, medicalized lens. Whether viewed as a dangerous shortcut, a life-saving medical intervention, or a tool for midlife maintenance, the transparency currently displayed by public figures marks a turning point. The days of pretending that a 50-pound transformation happened via "yoga and water" are fading, replaced by a complicated, often messy conversation about biology, agency, and the cost of the "perfect" body. As Dr. Drew Pinsky noted, the public remains "tantalized" by these interventions even as they judge them—a paradox that Hollywood continues to navigate in the spotlight.
