Until around 2021 “food noise” was simply the sound of somebody scratching about in a box of popcorn in the cinema. Or perhaps the sizzle of bacon rashers in a pan. But with the advent of weight-loss drugs such as semaglutide (it was originally licensed in 2017 as the diabetes drug Ozempic and then again, at a higher dosage, as the weight-loss drug Wegovy, in 2021), food noise became widely recognized as the enemy—the constant chatter about food in the mind, the internal voice of constant craving, which these drugs, fans claim, silence.
This is now the basis of the multibillion-dollar weight-loss drug industry. The Danish manufacturer of Wegovy, Novo Nordisk, is now valued at more than half a trillion dollars, more than the rest of Denmark’s economy combined.
That is a lot of money for canceling a noise in the head.
“And yet it can be quite debilitating when people think about little else,” says Giles Yeo, professor of molecular neuroendocrinology at the University of Cambridge. “I’ve seen its transformative effects close up. Silencing food noise has been the obesity treatment breakthrough of our time.”
Wegovy works by boosting the effect of the body’s natural appetite-suppressing hormone GLP-1 (glucagon-like peptide 1). GLP-1 is secreted after a meal and makes one feel full by suppressing both appetite and slowing the stomach-emptying process. However, its effects last only ten minutes. Ozempic, injected with a pen once a week, prolongs the effect. The result? Food silence.
“Food is so emotional for some people and these drugs break that link,” Yeo says. “Eating becomes an ordinary function again.”
Fine. But I do not want to take Wegovy or any of the other so-called GLP-1 agonists such as Trulicity or Victoza. I want to turn down the volume on my food noise naturally. Is it ridiculous to try to self-regulate? Friends compare it to refusing aspirin for a headache and deciding to say a prayer instead.
The fact is I don’t need to lose that much weight. Maybe four pounds. And I only really hear food noise in the evening, around 8 p.m. I have eaten dinner. I am reading or watching TV. But I cannot concentrate because somehow, like a highly trained police dog, I can sense exactly where every leftover Christmas Toblerone is hidden.
Even so, Yeo thinks I am right to go it alone.
“I believe different categories of overweight people need different strategies,” he says. “Morbidly obese people who weigh 400 pounds clearly need bariatric surgery. People who need to lose 40 pounds could very usefully be prescribed Wegovy or one of the other weight-loss drugs. But there is another category, which I also fit into. According to my wife, I could lose a stone but food noise is something I manage myself.”
A 2022 study by the Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston, Massachusetts, suggested that eating three meals a day, earlier and all within a ten-hour window, reduces food noise. That is to say, to eat breakfast at 9 a.m., lunch at 1 p.m. and a last meal at 5 p.m. rather than having them, say, at 1 p.m., 5 p.m. and 9 p.m. The study found that those eating later burned fewer calories and more slowly.
I tried it. Having my last meal of the day at 5 p.m. was far too early. By 8 p.m. my food noise sounded like AC/DC’s Angus Young soloing on a four foot-long ham and cheese baguette. Usually I am a night owl but to avoid this siren call I went to bed at 9.30 p.m., slept badly and woke up at 5.30 a.m. … hungry. One hack suggested by a friend who also hears symphonies of food noise helped. Simply chewing on a handful of nuts before doing any serious damage with an unhealthy breakfast did work.
But the connection between loud food noise and fatigue is also important for me. Carbs are what my body demands after a bad night as it thrashes about looking for a quick energy boost (carbohydrates are converted into glucose by the body quickly).
Clearly I could be making better choices here. For me, buttered toast works like a pair of food noise-canceling headphones made of dough. If I can bear to wait, oats work too and their slow energy release means the feeling of fullness lasts longer.
My other big challenge is “wine noise.” It is not a problem Monday to Thursday but as soon as the weekend is in sight (and bear in mind Thursday is the new Friday) I can hear it like an old BBC radio announcer: “Good evening, this is merlot calling.” And the thing is, after a glass or two, I hear food noise in the other ear. It is like a stereo playing tunes by Fat Boy Trying to Be Slim on repeat. Yeo has some useful insights here.
“Not all food noise is the same,” he says. “When you’ve eaten a plate of rice, you’re soon full and more of it doesn’t appeal. However, your body will still call for something else, something really special and calorific, like a chocolate brownie. A craving after wine is often similar. It’s not real hunger.”
Yeo is unusual for a scientist. He doesn’t talk down to us from lofty heights. He hears the noise too.
“Yes, I hear it,” he says. “The days when we simply blamed hungry people for a lack of self-control are gone. There is often a genetic influence at play but, if you’re determined to go without weight-loss drug interventions, you still have good options, like exercise.”
The 51-year-old keeps himself in equilibrium by commuting 30 miles a day by bike.
“I absolutely love food,” he says. “For example, today I have just eaten my lunch but I am already thinking about what I will have for dinner this evening and I already know what I will eat tomorrow too. My wife is completely different. She doesn’t hear that noise at all. The deal I made with myself is: I love food, I try to earn it.”
Professor Naveed Sattar is an expert in cardiometabolic medicine at the University of Glasgow. Last year he was appointed to the government’s Obesity Mission chair. As well as being an academic he does clinical work at the Glasgow lipid clinic where he treats obesity in some of the most disadvantaged people in the UK.
“I think trying to cancel food noise without recourse to weight-loss drugs is perfectly achievable but there is no doubt it’s easier for people who have the skills and resources to cook healthily and take regular exercise,” he says. “It’s much harder if income and lifestyle make you dependent on fast food or cheap processed food options. And I’m afraid to say the UK is the sick man of Europe in this regard. Wealth inequality really does equate with who hears food noise and their chances of mitigating its effects.”
Drinking a glass of water before a meal. Eating piles of vegetables, legumes and protein. These have all proved useful to me turning down the food noise volume. But it sounds like it may not be long before self-regulation is unnecessary.
Sattar points to a new generation of weight-loss drugs soon to be available. MariTide, made by the US pharma company Amgen, is undergoing phase 2 trials. It will be delivered by a monthly injection rather than weekly and trials show users losing 20 percent of their body weight. What’s more, those on the trial reported the weight staying off for five months after injections ended, i.e. they maintained weight loss without further intervention, which has given rise to speculation that even a three-monthly jab might be sufficient.
Perhaps even more enticing is Orforglipron, a weight-loss pill taken daily that is due to be licensed in the US next year. Without the need for refrigeration or delivery via syringe or pen, this option promises to be cheaper and easier to use.
“To be honest, I wish we didn’t need these drugs because, given the right opportunities and environment we can all self-regulate,” Sattar says. “But the evidence base is good. They work and, for now, that’s where we are.”
The NHS spends $8 billion a year treating obesity and associated conditions. That’s a lot of money to drown out food noise. Coming to compulsive snackers everywhere soon, it is hoped: the sound of silence.
Michael Odell is an interviewer and features writer
