For the past two months, Xanthe* has engaged in a new Friday ritual. She waits until her husband leaves for work before going to the fridge, removing a Mounjaro syringe from the small case in which it is stashed at the back, and injects herself in the stomach or thigh, rotating the location each week to avoid any bruising as evidence. Already 21 pounds down, after years of failed weight-loss attempts, she is certain that the $200 per month is “the best money I’ve ever spent.”
Xanthe, 50, has chosen not to tell anyone because of the stigma she feels shrouds users of weight-loss shots. “I don’t want any comments, or anyone worrying about me or thinking that I might be doing something wrong,”says the web developer, who lives in London. “Everyone has an opinion.”
That includes her partner of 32 years, who has been blessed with an uber-fast metabolism—and so has never struggled with his weight—and who, she says, has “no filter.” She can predict his reaction if she comes clean. “He’ll say, ‘You’re spending all that money, you can’t afford it; you can’t see any results; you’re not doing it right.’ All those day-to-day comments that really get to you when you’re trying to do something.” For now it’s easier, she reasons, “to keep it to myself.”
Xanthe is among the secret self-administers of weight-loss medication who don’t say a word to their loved ones. Though at least half a million U.K. adults are estimated to be “on the pen,” many choose to keep their GLP-1 prescriptions quiet for fear of being accused of “cheating,” or what they see as undue or unwelcome concern.
“Being overweight comes with a lot of guilt and feelings of self-blame because people tend to see it as being your fault,” says Jane Ogden, a professor of health psychology at the University of Surrey. “Weight-loss medication can be seen as a form of cheating and taking the easy way out, so comes with its own stigma. There’s a moral failing attached to it: ‘You brought this on yourself and therefore you should then make the effort to solve it.’ People keep it from their partners for the same reason they don’t disclose it more broadly: fear of judgment.”
Despite their real-world secrecy, online, clandestine shot-takers speak freely, swapping tips on how to avoid deliveries getting detected, or where to stash their pens. Many admit to stuffing them in boxes that once held tubes of tomato puree or anchovy paste; others tape their meds beneath the vegetable drawer in the fridge, wrap them in tin foil like leftovers, or hide them in jars of rice or oats. One user keeps hers “in an empty Gü dessert box in a flavor that no one likes but me … two years in and no one has clocked.” Less happily, another admits that her lack of disclosure led to her husband accidentally throwing out her supply, at a cost of hundreds of dollars.
Along with syringe-stashing tips, online forums are awash with requests for guidance over whether to tell their significant other. Does Xanthe feel guilty for keeping quiet? “It feels weird not to mention it,” she admits. “It’s such a big thing now for me; it’s already changed my life.”
She is content to wait until her husband notices her diminishing size (he hasn’t yet) and asks her outright. Until then, “I feel very strongly that this is something I need to get to grips with first and understand and find my way into without interference.” She hasn’t said a word to her 15-year-old daughter either. “She’s going through a stage of worrying about her appearance. My mom put a lot of pressure on me with food and my body when I was her age, and I never want that to happen to her.”
Others admit their decision to hide taking weight-loss medication is symptomatic of wider issues in their marriage. Jim*, 49, has been on Ozempic for the past three years, dropping 48 pounds and bringing his BMI down from over 40. Yet his wife has “never even noticed. I finally brought up that she was still buying me clothes in my old size, which is three sizes too large for me now. But she doesn’t pay much attention to me, so I figured it’s none of her business.”
His wife also struggles with her weight. He’s less concerned that she would judge him than “accuse me of judging her for her size. She has a very toxic addiction to food and I’m tired of trying to help or inspire her, so I’m taking care of myself and she can do the same for herself,” he says. “There is nothing good that could come from me disclosing my use of Ozempic to her, so I do not plan on ever telling her.”
Zach Brittle, a couples therapist and author of books including Reconnect: A Marriage Counselling Workbook, says that “relationships can survive secrecy—but not without some bruising.” Hiding things from your partner “often signals shame, fear, or disconnection. When something as personal as weight-loss medication is kept hidden, the problem is rarely the medication itself, it’s about what the secrecy represents: a breakdown in trust, a fear of judgment, or a sense that the relationship isn’t a safe place for vulnerability.”
Brittle explains that there are a number of reasons why individuals might want to keep their weight-loss private. In some instances, “it’s about autonomy. A partner might feel they need to reclaim agency over their body in a relationship where power dynamics have been uneven. In that case, secrecy can be a misguided form of self-protection or control.”
In others, it can stem from internalized shame about health or body image, or admitting to needing help in managing both. “We live in a culture that moralizes both food and fitness, so asking for medical support can feel like a personal failure. That shame can be compounded if someone fears their partner will judge them, worry about side-effects or, even more painfully, see them differently.”
For Clare*, a tech worker from Berkshire, the decision to start taking Mounjaro and not mention it to her husband and teenage children was simpler. At 51 and a size 22, she had extensively researched the possible outcomes and side-effects before seeking out a GLP-1 prescription. “I wanted it to be my choice and my choice alone. I knew my partner would worry. I knew he would be concerned because he loves me. And I understand that, but I didn’t want to have to deal with his concern.”
While her husband has never commented on her weight, Clare says that his ability to control what he eats is completely different to hers, making it harder to understand her struggle. “He just gets to a point where he feels a bit like it’s gone too far, and will wind it back. And he’s always managed. But I just have a very different relationship with food.”
Clare says that unlike the “food noise” many GLP-1 users report prior to taking the medication, she simply “had zero relationship with food. I didn’t notice when I was eating, and I didn’t notice when I wasn’t eating.” Now she sees that she was “in denial” about how much she was consuming. A week before she started the jab, she kept a detailed food diary for the first time, and realised she was “easily” eating at least 2,500 calories a day; the NHS recommends women need about 2,000 calories a day to maintain a healthy weight.
That changed radically when she began injecting in November. Her daily consumption has more than halved to between 800 and 1,300 calories, leading her to drop 62 pounds. “The loss of appetite was pretty instant; you really don’t want food,” she recalls of starting out. But while she adapted to her own reduced eating needs, her sudden inability to finish dinner was growing increasingly conspicuous. “My husband is not an idiot. He must have noticed quite early on, but it took him six weeks to say something.”
He does the food shopping and, in a conversation about the rising cost of living, “He said, ‘I don’t know what’s going on, but we seem to be wasting a lot because you’re leaving a lot of food lately.’ I just kind of chuckled,” Clare remembers. “And I said, ‘Well if you must know, it’s because of this medication.’” She had been hiding it in a cookie jar in their garage, and injecting herself when he was asleep.
“He said, ‘Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you let me know?’ I said, ‘I just wanted to see how I did on it.’ And that was the truth.”
There have been no hard feelings, she says—and the reduced food bill is also a plus. But all secret shot-takers must contemplate the point at which the jig will be up—something Xanthe has found herself wondering too. Coming clean “might be a surprise” to her husband, “but there won’t be breaking plates or anything like that.” As she sees it, her decision is less about keeping something from him but “finally taking control of what I felt was not in my control anymore.”
*Names have been changed
Charlotte Lytton is a London-based writer
