It was never just about the weight.
When Marissa, 34, started Ozempic, it wasn’t to fit into old jeans. It wasn’t to erase trauma or prove anything to the world. It was about survival — energy, blood sugar, and control in a body that had stopped feeling like hers.
As GLP-1 medications like Ozempic and its oral cousin Rybelsus gain cultural traction — first as diabetes drugs, then as weight-loss breakthroughs, then as viral celebrity injections — the real stories get drowned in noise. For queer women, especially those navigating healthcare systems that haven’t always seen or heard them, these medications raise deep, layered questions.
What does it mean to change your appetite?
To lose weight?
To want that — or not want it?
To inject your body with something that reshapes it slowly, invisibly?
This isn’t a celebrity headline. It’s a conversation about bodies, autonomy, and choice — one that queer women have been having long before any TikTok trend.
What are Ozempic and Rybelsus?
Both medications are part of a class called GLP-1 receptor agonists, originally developed to help manage type 2 diabetes by improving insulin sensitivity and reducing blood sugar spikes. They work by mimicking a hormone that regulates appetite, slows digestion, and signals fullness to the brain.
In 2021, both drugs were approved in many countries for diabetes, and later prescribed off-label for weight loss. They’ve since become the subject of both hope and controversy.
Why queer women’s experience is different
For many LGBTQ+ women, conversations around weight, food, and health are tangled in layers of family, dysphoria, body image and medical distrust. Add to that the way lesbian bodies have been historically desexualized or hypersexualized — and you get a complex emotional equation when doctors start offering “solutions.”
Some queer women find empowerment in medications like Ozempic. They help manage PCOS, improve insulin resistance, or reduce painful inflammation. Others feel ambivalence: Am I changing my body because I want to — or because I’ve been taught it’s wrong as it is?
And then there’s access. Transmasc partners may be on testosterone, affecting insulin sensitivity. Older queer women may face increased risks of diabetes, especially if previously uninsured. These meds don’t exist in a vacuum — they sit inside real lives, identities, partnerships and histories of care.
Side effects no one talks about
GLP-1s don’t just quiet your hunger. They can dull pleasure, induce nausea, cause fatigue or shift mood. Some users speak of food aversion so strong it disrupts shared meals or intimacy. One woman told us:
“It’s like I’m never hungry — which sounds great. Until you realize how much of your joy came from cooking with your girlfriend, sharing cheese, having wine. Now I forget to eat. She feels rejected. I feel robotic.”
There’s also a kind of emotional flatness that can occur — not unlike the numbness some experience on SSRIs. Not dangerous, but disorienting. For those recovering from disordered eating, the sudden control can trigger old patterns.
But for some, it’s life-changing
Let’s be clear: for many queer women living with prediabetes, PCOS, metabolic syndrome, or simply chronic fatigue tied to unstable glucose — these medications are powerful tools.
Ozempic has helped some regain focus at work, reduce depression linked to sugar crashes, and rebuild trust in their body’s signals. Rybelsus, in pill form, allows those wary of needles to try treatment more gently.
These are not “get skinny quick” pills. They’re hormonal regulators that shift chemistry, mood, inflammation and sometimes, yes, body size.
So, how do we choose?
There’s no single queer answer to “should I take Ozempic?” or “is Rybelsus for me?” But there are good questions:
- Do I want this change — or do I feel pressured?
- Am I managing a real health condition, or internalized stigma?
- Is my provider queer-affirming? Are they listening to me?
- If I lose weight, how might it affect my identity, my relationships, my sexuality?
- How will I care for my emotional and mental health while my body shifts?
Weight loss may be a result — but it should never be the only reason. You deserve better than shrinking to be seen.
A call for gentler care
If you’re considering Ozempic or Rybelsus, do it with support. A queer-informed provider. A friend who knows your story. A therapist who helps you unpack what “change” means for you.
Your body doesn’t need fixing. It needs respect. And if a medication can help restore balance, energy or joy — on your terms — that is not shameful. That is care.
At Lesbian.com, we believe in agency, not apology. Whether you take the shot, the pill, or none of the above — you deserve full access, full information, and full dignity.
Your body. Your choice. Your rhythm.
Let it be yours — not theirs.
