For most of my adult life, I’ve felt helpless about being overweight. When I met with a doctor a few years ago to discuss my high cholesterol, he held up a hunk of faux flesh meant to model a pound of excess fat and encouraged me to lose 20 of said gelatinous blobs. Perhaps, he suggested, I should eat less red meat and start exercising. I still remember his perplexed stare after I told him I had an established gym routine and had been a vegetarian for the better part of a decade.

Starting an obesity drug was supposed to be triumphant. The days of being winded after walking up the stairs to my apartment, and buying T-shirts marketed for guys with big bellies, would finally be over. Or so I thought. My health insurance didn’t cover Wegovy or Zepbound, the two GLP-1 drugs approved for weight

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