Craze for fat jabs is dicing with death – why are women once again killing themselves to get a skeletal body?

I’VE long been judged on my appearance. Too fat in pregnancy, too thin after it.

Earlier this year I would routinely get skinny shamed in the form of veiled comments on social media.

Yes, I was far too skinny, but that was not deliberate.

Not only was I going through an unbearably stressful time - unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before - but at the time had an undiagnosed health condition.

I ate as normal but my body couldn’t retain the weight and I recognised it was never going to look attractive for a 57-year-old woman to have more skin than flesh, but I was unwell and pretty helpless.

Negative comments sent me into a spiral of negativity, which was not only unhelpful, but incredibly damaging to my self-esteem.

It made me bloody angry.

Which is why I despair over women choosing to shrink themselves intentionally using Ozempic; dying to be thin when I want the exact opposite.

It may be seen as a “silver bullet” for weight loss, but each day brings yet another ’sleb shooting up this anti-diabetic injection and claiming it has changed their life.

The editor of British Vogue, Chioma Nnadi, said last week that there has been “a return of very thin models on the catwalk”.

She fears there has been a backwards step when it comes to body positivity and she puts some of the blame on the “trend” for Ozempic and similar drugs Wegovy, Mounjaro and Saxenda.

Fashion houses, she says, are still sending out “sample sizes” in tiny 4 to 6 and she warns that the whole furore around Ozempic should be a “wake-up call”.

If the head of British Vogue sees a dangerous return to skinny, surely it is time to take note.

There I was thinking the pursuit of skinny was so last week.

I thought the idea was finally dead in the water.

I thought we’d moved on. I thought we’d learnt our lesson about constantly pushing women to be scrawny or, God forbid, emaciated.

I thought we had collectively understood that body representation was the key to helping women feel better about themselves and that they should not constantly be punishing themselves by watching what they eat.

But along comes the fresh, new hell of weekly injections, which can control our appetite so fast our bodies can become lean or, in some cases, skeletal.

Lest we forget, Ozempic, Wegovy and Mounjaro are actually medications designed to help control type 2 diabetes.

They are nutrient-stimulated, hormone-based injectables to treat those with a genuine life-threatening condition.

It just so happens that one of the side-effects is that they can suppress your appetite and cravings.

Influential people such as Donald Trump’s new pal, tech mogul Elon Musk, actress Amy Schumer and talk show host Oprah Winfrey have made references to the drug helping them to lose weight, with Oprah calling it “a gift”.

But it isn’t just celebrities endorsing it.

I’ve looked on with increasing concern as female columnists at a fellow newspaper have been giving the jab positive publicity as they praise the impact it has had on their lives.

Former Tory luvvie Nadine Dorries has written about its benefits, even going as far as doing “before” and “after” pictures.

The formidable Jenni Murray, who, granted, has always had issues associated with her weight, claims it has cured all her ailments.

That’s all well and good, except this was only days before the first UK death linked with one of the jabs was announced.

Susan McGowan, a 58-year-old nurse from North Lanarkshire, had taken two low-dose injections of tirzepatide, known as Mounjaro, before her death.

Her death certificate cited the drug as a contributing factor.

I’ve listened to story after story on the news of women who have collapsed, had seizures and narrowly escaped death thanks to the emergency services, after taking weight-loss injections.

Even those who champion the drug will admit it makes you feel sick and can cause vomiting.

Model Lottie Moss was taken to hospital where she was violently ill and had a seizure after taking high doses of Ozempic.

Stephen Fry said he would vomit up to five times a day until he stopped taking it.

Sharon Osbourne — who at 72 has been famously preoccupied with halting the march of time — admitted she felt constantly sick and lost too much weight.

This is evident in recent pictures.

Sharon is skin and bone, and with her aesthetically filled lips, she regretfully looks like a Spitting Image puppet.

“Ozempic Face” is a common side-effect.

It is when the user has a hollowed-out appearance and sagging skin from a loss of fat.

But on a considerably more serious note, we still don’t know what this drug might do to our bodies long-term.

Are people really willing to risk their lives to be skinny?

With every fibre of my being, I am against the idea of anyone injecting themselves in order to lose weight.

I’m acutely aware that losing weight as we get older is almost mission impossible, especially for women who are in the midst of menopause.

But the idea that these drugs are natural because they are hormone-based and that we don’t need to worry about potential long-term side-effects, is, in my opinion, for the birds.

Our endocrine system controls all our hormones which, in turn, powers every aspect of our bodies.

So the idea that altering that might be risk-free is not something that would sit terribly well with every woman whose life has been thrown upside down by the menopause.

And what about the generation of women coming up behind those of us who were always taught to hate our bodies because our legs weren’t slim enough or our arms were too wobbly?

What about the young girls who see how celebs lose weight at the prick of a needle?

Are they going to think they can just eat what they want because there’s a quick fix out there when their weight eventually balloons?

I worry about them.

Even one of my daughters, who has not had any major body issues, thank God, asked me if I could get some free samples when I said I was writing about Ozempic.

It may have been in jest but I also know that there was definitely a desire to follow a trend.

This is all so hugely dangerous.

Not only could these drugs cost us our health, they ain’t cheap, either. Not that the manufacturers care — where there is a hunger for skinny, there is money to be made.

A private GP friend tells me she has been hounded by patients who are as desperate for the next fix of Ozempic as addicts are for heroin, despite already being at a reasonable weight.

She turns them away but, of course, we know they will find another source.

Because as with everything, when the price is too high, people go underground.

Early grave

They turn to the internet and lie about their weight in order to have access to drugs, which are not regulated.

Lord knows what might be in those syringes you get through the post — and the only way to find out is to jab yourself and either lose weight or end up in A&E. Or, worse still, an early grave.

Even the Government seems keen to turn a blind eye to any potential health risks as it arms itself with syringes in the fight against obesity.

It seems we have wasted the past decade getting everyone to accept bigger, wobblier and curvier figures.

These drugs are selling a lie and are a betrayal of all those young women for whom we worked so hard to pave the way in order for them to be able to accept their bodies just as they are.

This is a serious step backwards for body positivity and it is going to cause irreparable damage.