My client’s eyes wouldn’t meet mine as she tried to explain her recent, dramatic weight loss – at least a stone in a matter of weeks, I estimated. ‘It’s stress… there’s a lot going on at home. And my husband is so busy at work,’ she says.

A likely story. I’ve been a personal trainer for well over 25 years and I knew instantly that, just like several of my other regular female clients who have suddenly lost a significant amount of weight this year, this woman had in fact started taking Ozempic or another of the new weight-loss ‘miracle’ jabs.

She looked positively gaunt, and as well as losing weight had also lost muscle strength – all tell-tale signs of using a weight-loss jab.

The ladies I train in a particularly affluent area of the country generally fit into a certain category: in their late-40s to early-50s, they have husbands in such high-paying jobs they don’t have to work themselves.

They see me because they want me to help them manage the weight gain that can so often accompany the menopause – that padding around the tummy and the lack of muscle tone that can suddenly strike as your 40s progress into your 50s.

This can certainly be reversed – and I have a great reputation for transforming the figures of women like this, hence why they all seem to seek me out – but it takes hard work and consistency on their part to get results.

It’s so disappointing for me, then, to see woman after woman falling for the quick-fix of Ozempic.

I would estimate that at least five of my female clients – of whom I have around 40 – have succumbed to the jabs in this year alone.

Many of the clients Sam sees have been inspired by celebrities such as Gabby Logan

Many of the clients Sam sees have been inspired by celebrities such as Davina McCall and Gabby Logan, who looked great through their menopauses thanks to their well-publicised, sensible exercise regimens

Only one has admitted the truth to me, while others have come up with excuse after excuse for the sudden gaunt look that strikes them. Doing more weights. Cutting out sugar. Grief after losing a parent. Money worries (as if!).

All these women have been on my books for a minimum of five years, and when I started training them they all told me the same thing: they wanted to be strong and slender.

I showed them how to train with weights and kettlebells, instructed them on the importance of engaging their pelvic floor as they worked out, thus improving their core, and showed them particularly important exercises (such as weighted lunges), to improve their balance – which is so vital to maintain as you age.

Their weight came down slowly, their muscle tone improved, they glowed with health. They were inspired by celebrities such as Davina McCall and Gabby Logan, who looked great through their menopauses thanks to their well-publicised, sensible exercise regimens.

Then earlier this year, I noticed one woman had a particularly drawn look – in my experience, Ozempic users lose weight from their faces first.

The weight fell off her, a stone in a matter of a month or so. She had looked well, now she looked emaciated.

Then along with the weight loss came what I find is the most obvious sign of Ozempic use – a complete failure in strength and muscle tone.

Within that one month, this woman who previously would merrily chest press weights of 15kg minimum could suddenly barely lift 6kg.

Sam notes that many of her clients who have used Ozempic lose muscle mass as well as fat, with another common side-effect being constipation

Yes, she was losing weight – but, disastrously, it was at the expense of her overall health and fitness.

I can only assume women don’t want to tell me about using Ozempic because they feel embarrassed. Celebrities may admit to using it, but in the social circle inhabited by these women there is still a certain amount of shame at taking the easy option.

The one woman who did confess to using Ozempic after I probed her admitted she was just desperate to lose the last bit of puffiness that clung to her figure.

She struggled to resist fatty foods and wine, but with Ozempic her appetite diminished.

She was ecstatic to be at her target weight – even though Ozempic had given her appalling headaches and terrible constipation. The latter is a well-known side effect: clinical trials show the jab can make as many as 12 per cent of users constipated. But she was thin. And that’s all that mattered to her.

It makes me so depressed to see women worshipping the cult of skinny again when they had been so seemingly devoted to building their strength.

Just one of my clients has been prescribed Ozempic by a doctor, for health reasons. She is on a very low dose, appropriate for her health needs: she has type 2 diabetes, which the drug was originally developed to treat (and is licensed for).

The others, though, have sought private prescriptions for the weight-loss jab. And as they jab their fat away, they no longer look toned.

Their lack of muscle mass may sound like a small price to pay for a size 10 figure, but once these women lose their hard-won strength, they are unlikely to get it back.

They are in the ‘use it or lose it’ phase of their lives. It’s so much harder to get muscles back in your late 50s or 60s.

The point is, muscle really matters: it is metabolically active and requires more energy to maintain than fatty tissue. People with greater muscle mass burn more calories even when they are not exercising.

And once the muscle is gone, you are trapped in a vicious cycle: without muscle tone, you are much less likely to keep weight off long term.

So that first tempting Ozempic injection could well mean that these women are stuck on weight-loss jabs long term to sustain their thinness – with all the well-publicised side-effects that go hand in hand with these injections.

Even more worryingly, it is muscle that improves our balance and makes us much less likely to have falls when we are older.

I wonder if my clients really understand the potential lack of mobility and loss of independence they could be facing within a matter of years, all in the quest of the age-old quest of being thin – at whatever price.

  • Sam Brooks is a pseudonym.
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