The other day I went to see a plastic surgeon who just happens to be Beverly Hills’ best-kept secret.
You won’t find him on Instagram — he doesn’t do it. He’s a word-of-mouth kind of doctor who has no need for advertising. And he’s the only person I trust to inject anything into my face (I’m a health expert, not a nun!).
As the needles penetrated my skin, we fell into our routine quarterly catch-up. The download began. Apparently, the so-called ‘Ozempic Face’ is real – and far worse than anyone thought, he told me.
From Hollywood’s elites to suburban moms, Wall Street execs and TikTok influencers, Ozempic, the diabetes drug-turned-weight-loss sensation, has permeated every corner of our culture. The promise of effortless weight loss is too intoxicating to resist.
We’re bombarded with stories of how what are known as GLP-1 drugs like Ozempic (and Mounjaro, Wegovy and the rest) are the new Holy Grail of health, offering myriad other benefits as the pounds fall off.
But what is conveniently swept under the rug are the horror stories.
The potential side effects that are most commonly discussed — thyroid cancer, pancreatitis, stomach paralysis — should be enough to make anyone reconsider. But what if I told you that’s just the warm-up act?
My plastic surgeon isn’t the only clinician spilling the beans.
The other day I went to see a plastic surgeon who just happens to be Beverly Hills’ best-kept secret. (pictured: Jillian Michaels).
Apparently, the so-called ‘Ozempic Face’ is real – and far worse than anyone thought.
I work with MDs and PhDs across every specialty — psychiatrists, gastroenterologists, cardiologists, nutrition scientists. Not one of them has failed to mention, in hushed tones, the ‘observational adverse events’ they see with GLP-1 drugs.
Why whisper? Because questioning the safety of this medical ‘miracle’ is career suicide in today’s climate.
The pharma-industrial complex, backed by regulatory bodies and media puppets, has turned medicine into a religion where blind faith replaces scientific debate.
Some of these ‘whispered’ potential side-effects you may have heard about: Ozempic Face, of course, but also hair loss and diminished libido.
Others, you likely haven’t: gastric bezoars (hard indigestible masses that can form in the gut), or suicidal ideation, accelerated aging and more.
But to return to ‘Ozempic Face’: many have assumed that it’s simply the result of reduced facial volume due to weight loss that leaves many people looking older than before. However, based on my extensive professional experience of helping people lose weight over the years, I’ve never seen them look older — only younger.
To be honest, I hadn’t given this issue much thought, as I’ve been more focused on the potentially life-threatening side effects of the drugs.
That changed the day my surgeon told me his patients on GLP-1 medications were ‘aging in fast-forward’, with some looking a decade older in less than a year.
He said, their skin didn’t just appear older — it was behaving older, losing elasticity, with more wrinkles and crepiness, and healing more slowly. Even the connective tissue or SMAS (Superficial Musculoaponeurotic System), which structurally supports the face, was becoming thinner and weaker.
It seems that GLP-1 drugs may be accelerating the breakdown of structural proteins like collagen, elastin and hyaluronic acid at an alarming rate.
So, I dug into the literature for answers and found a couple of studies suggesting GLP-1 drugs potentially deactivated fat-derived stem cells in the upper dermal layers. These stem cells play a crucial role in skin integrity, as they release messengers that stimulate fibroblasts to produce the key building blocks that maintain youthful, resilient skin. Yikes!
Then there’s the impact on the gut.
Dr. Sabine Hazan, a gastroenterologist, warned me about the potential dangers of GLP-1 drugs delaying gastric emptying — a technical way of saying food lingers in the gut like a Thanksgiving dinner that never digests.
She worried this could disrupt the gut microbiome, the trillions of microbes essential for digestion, immunity, and overall health. She also speculated that reduced gut motility might lead to conditions like SIBO (small intestinal bacterial overgrowth), a gruesome affliction that brings bloating, brain fog, mood swings, and makes one poo puddles of tar (not hyperbole).
For one of my podcasts, I interviewed Dr. Heather Heying, PhD, who raised similar concerns. She pointed out that severely slowed gut motility could have long-term consequences, including a number of conditions that are associated with stomach cancer.
Once again, I went hunting through the literature for what other dangers might be being overlooked. What I found was terrifying.
Several studies have documented large gastric bezoars in patients on GLP-1 drugs. These dense lumps of food, mucus or medication residue harden into rock-like formations in the stomach. Think of them as the human equivalent of a clogged garbage disposal.
We’re bombarded with stories of how what are known as GLP-1 drugs like Ozempic (and Mounjaro, Wegovy and the rest) are the new Holy Grail of health, offering myriad other benefits as the pounds fall off. But what is conveniently swept under the rug are the horror stories.
The conversation around these drugs is overwhelmingly focused on their benefits, while potentially serious risks are downplayed or dismissed. People deserve full, honest information.
Left untreated, these bezoars grow, some swelling to the size of a grapefruit, causing unrelenting nausea, vomiting and intense abdominal pain.
In worst-case scenarios, they lead to life-threatening blockages, eroding the stomach lining, triggering infections, and may require surgical removal.
Right when you think it couldn’t get worse — caved-in faces and putrid balls of undigested sludge — a growing number of weight-loss jab users report yet another unexpected side effect: a plummeting libido.
Let’s be real. Weight loss is supposed to boost your sex life, not destroy it.
One of my go-to motivators for male contestants on the TV series The Biggest Loser was telling them their erections were about to get a serious upgrade. (Fun fact: for every 10-20 pounds lost, roughly half an inch of buried shaft is ‘recovered’.) And thanks to improved cardiovascular function, blood flow increases make those erections stronger than ever.
But here’s the problem: Some men on Ozempic and other GLP-1 drugs are reporting alarming drops in testosterone and, well, difficulty getting it up.
Women, meanwhile, are also experiencing plummeting libido, feeling disconnected from intimacy and joy itself.
Several psychiatrists I’ve interviewed suspect it stems from how these drugs alter the way dopamine (the brain’s feel-good hormone) works, and how they appear to impact gut-brain communication and hormone balance.
By delaying gastric emptying and suppressing cravings, GLP-1 drugs blunt the brain’s reward system, which controls not just food-seeking behavior but also motivation and pleasure — including sexual desire.
Changes in gut microbiome composition also affect neurotransmitter production, so it’s no wonder some users find their sex drive plummeting. While some report a boost in confidence and energy as they lose weight, others have described feeling emotionally dulled, disinterested in intimacy, and even disconnected from joy itself.
At the end of the day, I don’t judge anyone who chooses the weight-loss jab path — everyone has the right to make decisions about their own body. But what is unacceptable is the lack of transparent conversation about the true trade-offs.
The conversation around these drugs is overwhelmingly focused on their benefits, while potentially serious risks are downplayed or dismissed.
People should be having full, honest discussions so they can make the most educated decision for themselves — one that isn’t clouded by all the hype.
Because when the stakes are this high, no one should unknowingly enter into a bargain with the devil.