The white lies women tell men about Mounjaro: It changes more than just our waistlines. Even I panicked on a date and said my weight loss was down to ‘stress’… JANA HOCKING

‘Geez, girl. You’ve lost some weight! How did you do it?’

That was the exact question my date – who I’ve known for a while but has been living overseas until recently – caught me off guard with last Saturday night.

‘Umm… ahh… yeah, thanks. Oh, you know, just a bit of stress,’ was all I could mutter as I scrambled for any explanation apart from the actual truth.

Unfortunately, I’d forgotten one small detail: I’d already confessed to taking Mounjaro in my Ask Jana column, which was due to be published the next morning.

So when he read it the next day, he sent me a message simply stating: ‘Liar, liar, pants on fire!’

And he was right. 

It seems I’m far more candid in writing than I am across the dinner table from a man I fancy. Let’s be honest: it’s one thing to type ‘I took Mounjaro for two months’, and quite another to look a date in the eye and admit it – wondering all the while if he thinks you’ve cheated your way into your dress.

I’d been sprung.

Thankfully, he liked what he saw and we laughed it off, but for a split second I felt that cold shiver – the same one you get when the wind blows and a hair extension slips from the hair you’ve spent far too long perfecting.

Because yes, I get extensions. And Botox. And, all right, a touch of lip filler.

So sue me. 

But does a date have a right to know about all the tweakments we’ve had? Should I be handing over an itemised receipt in a bid to make sure he doesn’t think he’s been duped? 

It certainly helps explain why I appreciate a man picking up the bill on a first date. If only he realised how expensive the evening had already been before I’d even stepped out the door.

He gets to show up with stubble that somehow makes him look more attractive and a shirt that missed the iron. Meanwhile, I’ve spent a small fortune perfecting the art of looking as if I just threw something on.

Even the basics – a blow-dry and a manicure – cost a bomb, and that’s before we’ve even booked the Uber. Because let’s be honest, being picked up for a date is ancient history.

By the time he’s spritzed his finest Lynx Africa and brushed his teeth, I’m just hoping my Botox doesn’t stop him noticing how underwhelmed I am by his choice of pub.

Yes, I’ll admit to getting my hair done, but ask how I lost weight and suddenly it’s ‘just stress’. Odd, isn’t it, that admitting to stress is somehow less embarrassing than admitting to taking Mounjaro? 

If I’m being completely honest, it’s because the truth would mean confessing that I wanted a quick fix. After a carb-loaded summer in Paris and two martini-and-fries-filled trips to America, I was feeling far bigger than I was comfortable with – whether other people agreed with me or not. 

I wanted the weight gone, preferably without having to slog away for months to make it happen. Some people love the gym. I do not. And yes, Mounjaro gave me the result I wanted. 

Was it pretty? No. For a brief moment I lost my libido entirely and don’t even get me started on lethargy. But did it work? Yes. 

Still, it’s hardly the confession you make to someone built like an Adonis – especially when he’s mentioned his gym routine more than once. But in the spirit of honesty, that’s exactly why I did it.

I was curious, I could afford it, and the idea was appealing. You might not approve, but sugar-coating it now would just be another little lie.

There’s something else, too: since taking it, my endometriosis symptoms have been almost non-existent. I haven’t had a single flare-up. I can’t say whether that’s due to the medication, the weight loss, or something else entirely, but it’s been a welcome relief – and I’m not the only woman who’s noticed this effect.

Still, that’s not why I started, and I won’t rewrite history to make my answer sound more admirable.

I wanted to feel better in my clothes. That’s the whole truth. Yet, when a man noticed the change, I couldn’t quite bring myself to say how I’d achieved it. 

I’ve now been off it for a few months and kept the weight off. For me, it was the little jump-start I needed to feel comfortable in my body again. My enthusiasm for the gym remains unchanged, annoyingly, but I’ve developed healthier eating patterns, and have embraced these two food groups called ‘protein’ and ‘fibre’. Revolutionary.

And thankfully, he took it well. Which means I’ve now found a man who reads my column and still wants to see me. I should probably stop testing that arrangement.