The Magic of Vitamin O

Two weeks ago, I attended the launch of a new drug, a so-called miracle that promises 15–20% weight loss in just two years. The room was buzzing with excitement. The science was impressive. The potential impact, enormous. One injection a week, and the pounds melt away. Ozempic, initially used for diabetes, now also proven to have wonderful cardiovascular benefits, is now reborn as the golden child of weight loss.

A miracle? Perhaps, for those who can afford it.

But for the many who can’t? It’s not a miracle. It’s a dream. A distant, glittering promise glimpsed through the pharmacy glass, priced out of reach. For people already struggling to make ends meet, to put food on the table, to survive, this “miracle” may as well be magic. The kind that only works for the chosen few.

In a world where thinness is prized and judged as a marker of discipline, desirability, and even moral worth, this drug will become more than a medical intervention. It will become a status symbol. A badge of access. The final, gleaming wedge that drives the chasm between the privileged and the poor even deeper.

Because now, even health, one of our most basic human rights, is being commodified, branded, and sold to the highest bidder.

I sit with the discomfort. I acknowledge the marvel of the science, the promise it brings. But I also see the danger when medicine forgets its soul. When we forget that healing is not just for the wealthy, that weight is not the only measure of wellness but of privilege, and that dignity should never be tied to a price tag.

Sadly, however, it is.

Now, I’m not saying I won’t be using it. I’ve gained 20 pounds in the last two years. And yes, I can afford it. So let’s see if Vitamin O works wonders, shall we?

But even as I joke, I know this isn’t funny. Because for every one of us who can buy our way into better health, there are hundreds more who can’t. And that should make us pause.

I'm going to use it, out of desperation. And I won't feel guilty for it. But I do know that when medicine becomes a luxury, we risk forgetting its purpose. And that's another weight in my mind that I need to lose.