I lost over 3 stone on Mounjaro and went from a size 18 to a 10 – here’s the terrifying truth about what REALLY happened after my last jab: CLAUDIA CONNELL

The date has been looming for weeks. The words ‘LAST JAB’ are written in huge letters on my iPhone calendar.

After six months on weight-loss injections, it’s time to stab myself in the stomach with Mounjaro for the final time, something I do with mixed feelings: triumph at all I’ve achieved and nerves about what lies ahead.

I’ve yo-yo’d in weight over the past two decades but, towards the end of last year, I was the heaviest I’d ever been. I tipped the scales at 13st 2lbs which, at 5ft 5in tall, meant I was officially obese and a dress size 18.

Drastic measures were called for, so I took my first shot of Mounjaro on November 1, 2024, starting on the lowest dose of 2.5mg. It proved to be miraculous. Within 48 hours I had virtually no appetite and had to force myself to eat.

Not only did I never feel hungry, I also never thought about food. Ever. Mounjaro slammed the door in the face of the food noise that had tormented me for years.

I dropped 9 lbs in the first two weeks. By the end of the first month, I was down 1 st. Today, six months later, I’ve lost 3st 4lbs, and now weigh 9st 12lb. I can also – just – squeeze into a pair of size 10 M&S jeans.

Some people choose to stay on a low, maintaining dose of weight-loss drugs forever. But at £170 a month it’s expensive, and I really want to go it alone, to see how well I cope without the crutch of Mounjaro.

Instead of going cold turkey I taper off and increase the number of days between injections when I’m down to my final pen – containing the 2.5mg I started with.

So, what’s it like going ‘fat jab’ sober? Here’s how I got on. I start this diary 12 days after my last injection.

DAY ONE

Mounjaro will take about 20 days to fully leave my system but I can already feel my appetite suppression lifting. I no longer feel stuffed after a yogurt like I used to on my higher doses (I peaked at 7.5mg) but I am also never ravenously hungry.

I look at some online sites to see how others fared after stopping their injections and it’s a mixed bag. One woman lost a similar amount to me and regained the lot in a month. How? She must have gone to an all-you-can-eat buffet every single day.

A friend who is two months ‘clean’ is still not back to having a full appetite, while another gained 10lbs in a month and went straight back on the injections.

On the jabs, I mostly stuck to two meals a day and decide to continue with that. I get by on just coffee until midday, then have a late protein based ‘brunch’ of chicken sausages and scrambled egg and, by 4pm, I’m still not feeling hungry.

Dinner is a small Greek salad where I go easy on the feta cheese and add a tuna steak.

I’m not counting calories as I don’t want to become obsessed and, after a lifetime of dieting, I know what piles on the lard and what doesn’t.

I remind myself that, for the first time in my life, I’ve got a thigh gap! I must not let that give way to chub rub.

DAY TWO

Not only have I lost a lot of fat, but I’m aware I’ve lost muscle too. My once bootylicious backside now resembles a pitiful, deflating balloon and I join my local gym to try to tone up.

I’m still sticking to two light meals – today it’s avocado on protein bread with grilled tomatoes and then a chicken stir fry with a gnat-sized portion of brown rice.

After dinner I treat myself to two squares of dark chocolate and shudder at the memory of how I used to polish off an entire tub of Ben and Jerry’s in front of the telly. Would I eat ice cream now if I could? No, I really wouldn’t.

Like so many people who use GLP-1 drugs, I went right off booze and can still take it or leave it.

Maggie, in one of my online groups, is newly off Mounjaro and says her appetite – and food noise – is worse than it was pre-injections, I guess I must be one of the lucky ones.

Other women are swapping tips about how to keep hunger pangs at bay – taking the supplement berberine (a plant compound) or MCT oil (a supplement usually distilled from coconut oil and favoured by body builders) seem to be popular choices.

DAY THREE

Food noise is still a dim memory. Have I somehow managed to rewire my food-focused brain? I can’t recall the last time I ordered a takeaway and the very thought of a stodgy Chinese or fish and chips is revolting.

I’m going out tonight and, because I’m aware that socialising with a tap-water-drinking, salad-munching person is no fun, I vow to be ‘normal’. I have some fruit and Greek yogurt at lunchtime and then head out to an Italian eatery in the evening.

I order a glass of prosecco – which I don’t finish – and have grilled sardines followed by a steak and salad. A former carb monster, I’d normally be hoovering up pizza and pasta.

The old me would also have spent the days before looking at the restaurant’s menu online and drooling over food pictures on its Instagram account. The new me was able to turn up, ignore the calorific choices and select something tasty but healthy. God how I once hated people like me.

DAY FOUR

I wake up to a barrage of messages from the friends I met last night telling me how fantastic I look. Two of them message separately to ask which pharmacy I used as they want to try Mounjaro themselves.

Feeling stuffed from my Italian meal I skip breakfast and head to the shops to buy new clothes.

I used to hate shopping because everything looked so awful on me, now I love it. Being able to pick a size 12 off the rail and know it will fit is a wonderful feeling.

I decide to sell my ‘fat’ clothes on Vinted instead of having them there as a fallback. It’s clear I’m not the only one having a post-fat-jab declutter. The site seems full of larger-label clothes.

After lunch on the go – a Pret tomato soup and bag of popcorn – I have salmon, asparagus and mushrooms for dinner. I’m delighted that my sweet tooth is still missing in action.

DAY FIVE

My family are coming over tomorrow for lunch and I’m doing a grazing table – in the past that would have been deadly, ‘picky bits’ is my absolute favourite type of meal.

I purchase a mountain of cheese, bread, cold meats, crisps and dips at the supermarket. Pre-fat jab I would have scoffed most of the crisps that night and then raced to the shops at the crack of dawn to replace them.

The good thing about the past six months is that I’ve really got into cooking and I spend most of the day making a quiche and a cheesecake.

I have a green smoothie for breakfast and a late lunch of chicken breast with a green salad and new potatoes.

I ask myself: if there was a chocolate gateau here right now, would you want a slice? The honest answer is, no, I wouldn’t.

DAY SIX

My grazing table looks epic if I do say so myself. My family tuck in… and so do I. Suddenly my cast-iron willpower is waning.

The marketing people at Pringles are right – once you pop you just

can’t stop. I start on the crisps and dips. Then I move on to the chicken wings and cheese. After that it’s two huge hunks of French bread with salted butter.

I’m in heaven and eat more than I have done in months. I also drink two bottles of beer and have a slab of cheesecake. After my family leaves the guilt kicks in.

There are tons of crisps left over and to avoid temptation I cover the lot in washing up liquid before binning them (a trick from previous dieting days when just throwing things away wasn’t enough, because I’ve been known to fish pizza out of the bin).

In bed my stomach is groaning in protest at the food assault I’ve subjected it to.

DAY SEVEN

I wake up feeling sweaty and nauseous. Five minutes after a coffee, I’m throwing up and I spend most of the day racing to the loo to hurl yesterday’s buffet up into the toilet bowl.

My pig out was clearly too much for my shrunken stomach.

A few sips of water is all I can tolerate. Lesson learned. What an idiot.

DAY EIGHT

I’m into week two and I jump on the scales (I am only going to weigh weekly) and – thanks to my bout of sickness – I’ve dropped another pound.

I still feel a bit wobbly and spend the day eating dry toast and bananas.

I do a mental stock take of everything I scoffed two days before and, although piggy, it was still way less than I would have previously consumed.

I remind myself how good it feels to be slim and how wonderful it is to shop for clothes now and never to let that go.

DAY NINE

According to an online calculator, Mounjaro is now entirely out of my system and I wish it wasn’t. This weekend I have a friend coming to stay and lots of plans to eat out.

This friend, despite seeing pictures of me in group chats, has never once commented on my weight loss.

I WhatsApp her saying I will meet her at the train station but she might not recognise me, and attach a picture of me in my new skinny jeans. No response. She arrives with chocolate and hot cross buns. 

It could be a nice gesture; it could be sabotage. I can’t decide. We head out to eat and I ask her what she fancies. Chinese. OK. Definitely sabotage.

I order beef in oyster sauce and go easy on the rice. I wash it down with a Chinese beer and feel satisfied but not overly stuffed and resist the prawn crackers my companion keeps offering me.

Back at my house we open the box of chocolates and I have just two. I don’t want to reignite any sugar cravings.

But once in bed, I can’t stop thinking about them. Uh oh. Is this food noise creeping back in?

The old me would have tiptoed down the stairs and scoffed another dozen. The new me rolls over and goes to sleep.

DAY TEN

After a smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel, my friend and I head out for a country walk followed by a pub lunch, where I

opt for mackerel pate and a Caesar salad. After she returns home my friend texts to say she is having a wardrobe clear out and, now that I’ve lost ‘a little bit’ of weight, wonders if I might want some of her cast-offs.

I take great pleasure in telling her that’s so sweet but, actually, I think they might all be too big. Someone isn’t happy to have lost her fat friend.

DAY 11

With no Mounjaro in my veins, I’m starting to feel hunger between meals for the first time but, so far, I’m not regretting quitting the jabs.

Besides, I have the safety net of two stockpiled emergency pens in cases I do start to pork up again.

Every GLP-1 online group I visit has one central theme – absolute terror of regaining all the weight that came off so easily.

After easing myself back in, today’s the day I move up to three meals in a bid to ward off hunger. It’s eggs for breakfast, a home-made vegetable soup for lunch and prawn stir fry for dinner.

All healthy and filling and I’m being mindful of portion sizes, too – strictly none of the food mountains I used to tuck into.

However, for the first time in months, I want something sweet. I know that if I had biscuits in the house I’d be a goner.

Good job, too, that I deleted all food-delivery apps from my phone because, yes, I have used Tesco Whoosh to bring me a Crunchie bar at 10pm in the past.

DAY 12

I haven’t been to the gym since joining because, in the past, working out made me ravenously hungry. But I do a 45-minute session and enjoy the buzz I get afterwards and the fact that for the first time in years I don’t feel self-conscious when I exercise in front of others.

I head to London to meet friends for lunch and it’s the first time I have a fully pre-Mounjaro restaurant experience.

I order a margarita cocktail which I thoroughly enjoy and tuck into three courses – fish tacos, chili con carne and caramel ice cream.

It all tastes wonderful and, as I ate no breakfast, and won’t be having dinner either, it won’t do any damage.

I’m aiming to strike a balance somewhere between gluttony and Victoria Beckham.

I don’t want to be the person who orders steamed spinach when I eat out.

DAY 13

I have frozen berries and Greek yogurt for breakfast and a nicoise salad for lunch. My evening meal is a home-made pizza, with plenty of veg and just the tiniest sprinkle of cheese.

Damn it though, my sweet tooth is definitely returning.

One tip I read online is to freeze grapes as they (apparently) taste just like hard-boiled sweets. Reader… they don’t.

I’d kill for some Haribo but, luckily, it’s strawberry season and a bowlful of the fruit scratches my sugar itch.

Every week, I do a pub quiz with my friend Nikki. Before Mounjaro I’d always have a glass of wine and a bag of crisps and, tonight, I decide to start doing that again.

I don’t want to feel like I’m on a permanent diet and am confident I have acquired a level of self-control I previously lacked.

DAY 14

It’s 25 days since my last jab and, while my appetite has increased, it’s far from raging and nothing like it used to be.

I still crave healthy food more than the fattening stuff and don’t fancy the idea of anything too stodgy.

My weigh-in tells me that I’ve not gained and my plan of two-to-three healthy meals a day and the odd treat is working.

When it comes to food noise, it’s trying to claw its way back but I can ‘shush’ it.

I’m convinced I thought about food all the time before because it became my first love.

Now my mind is taken up with thoughts of my new body, new clothes, new confidence and the freedom not being fat has brought me.

The two weeks have been challenging but not torturous. I’m determined to not pile it all back on again but, if I do, there’s a Mounjaro pen with my name on it waiting in the fridge.