…and Why Walmart Better Lawyer Up
Consider this a follow-up to last Wednesday’s GLP-1 post – not a “bonus post,” because let’s be honest, half of you couldn’t give a rat’s behind about my personal dieting adventures. But for the other half – the ones who enjoy the rhythm of my rambling, the ones who read my posts like they’re settling in for story time – pull up a chair. I’m taking you through my first five weeks of Tirzepatide.
But first, we’re starting with a lawsuit – mine.
Remember years ago when someone sued McDonald’s because they spilled hot coffee on themselves? They won. Not McDonalds – the plaintiff. McDonald’s had to slap a warning label on their cups that basically said: “Caution: Contents Hot.”
Well, following that legal precedent, I’m suing Walmart.
That’s right. If you can sue over the temperature of coffee, then I can sue over cream cheese lathered cinnamon rolls that are addictive and make me fat.
For years Walmart stopped carrying them. They only carried those sad, waxy, white-frosted cinnamon rolls – the ones that taste like disappointment and broken promises. Then one day, a miracle descended upon the bakery aisle: the return of the 4-pack saggy-in-the-middle cinnamon rolls with the GOOD cream cheese frosting – and lots of it.
You know the ones I’m talking about.
The ones that sag just enough in the middle of the container, whispering, “We were pulled from the oven at the exact right moment.” And because of the drooping in the middle, the cream cheese slides off the rolls and forms a pool of ecstasy in the middle.
I’d hunt for the package with the biggest pool of frosting. And once they found their way to my cart? Game over. By the end of the day – using the tiniest fork I own, as if that somehow made it better – I’d have eaten two, minimum.
Next trip to Walmart, I’d tell myself, don’t even look. Because looking means grabbing. Grabbing means buying, Buying means eating. And eating means… well, here we are, drafting lawsuits.
I can see it now…
Week 1 – Day 1: injection day. The vial came in the mail and I did as instructed and put it in the refrigerator. A part of me wanted to take it immediately, but I needed to sleep on it – anticipate it, and…turn it into a ceremony. That’s right – before the moment came it was time to inject, I had to make friends with it. Why? Because that’s what Lisa does.
The very next morning I held the vial in my hands and gave it a pep talk.
Okay, maybe it was more like a prayer.
“You and I are going to be great friends. You’re not going to give me anything I can’t handle. You’re going to behave yourself. This is my body, and since I’m letting you invade every molecule in it, you better treat it with respect.”
No holy water was involved, but it crossed my mind.
I wiped the vial with an alcohol wipe, drew up the med, checked the measurements three times for accuracy, wiped my abdomen with an alcohol wipe, and said to myself, “You’ve given Gracie insulin twice a day for the past 16 months. You can surely do this.”
And, I did.
Smooth. Easy. Not even the slightest discomfort.
In my imagination – because I can’t help myself – the medicine went in as a sparkling, pink, swirling liquid announcing, “Look out everyone, we’re coming in! We’ve got some cleaning up to do!”
Within hours, I felt it. Some people say it takes a day or longer. Not me. I’m sensitive to meds – I could probably feel a Flintstones vitamin.
When I say I felt it – I felt a change. Suddenly, the food noise? Gone. I wasn’t thinking about a snack during my favorite show. I wasn’t planning my next meal while eating the current one. I wasn’t wandering the kitchen like a bored racoon.
When I did think of food, it was because I needed to eat, not because I wanted to. And since losing muscle is a risk with weight loss, I focused on protein-rich foods.
Every now and then a tiny wave of nausea would tap me on the shoulder. It only lasted but a few seconds, never enough to have me running to the bathroom. It was more like my new little friends whispering, “We’re on the job.”
No major side effects, other than slight constipation around week three. A stool softener usually fixed it. And because the med slows gastric emptying, lying down after eating would trigger a much needed glorious burp upon sitting up.
This reminded me of the time one of my sons (no idea which one) heard me burp and looked horrified.
“Mom… moms don’t burp.”
Laughing, I said, “Well, this one does.”
Last Saturday was injection number five. My body is adjusting, which is normal around the four-week mark, and while its customary to have to double the dose around the 4-week mark, I’m not in any hurry – losing weight slowly is my goal. I’ll know it’s time to increase when I start salivating thinking about warm, almost gooey cinnamon rolls.
So far, I’ve lost 14 pounds. My first weigh-in at the clinic, I was fully clothed with boots, but even after adjusting for that, I’m very encouraged by the loss. My goal: 20-25 lbs. so I’m already over halfway there. It’s now coming off slower, like most dieting, but as long as it’s on a downward trend, I’m happy.
I’m eating healthier. I’m more conscious of what goes in my mouth. My sweet tooth has calmed down, although not totally on vacation. But a few spoonfuls of sugar-free Cool Whip, and I’m good.
I’ve discovered protein smoothies and found recipes that taste like dessert and have no sugar. Cottage cheese has become my best friend. Scrambled eggs with cottage cheese?
Don’t turn your nose up. It’s fantastic. The cottage cheese melts and I have one 5 out of 7 mornings a week.
My knees are thanking me. Giving up sugar alone helped with inflammation within days of stopping it. Add to that, the GLP-1 is an anti-inflammatory, and together I’m seeing significant improvement. But now? I am running and jumping while playing pickleball better than I have for a year or more. If I overdo it, I may pay for it for a day, but it doesn’t take long and the knees are feeling good again. And to think I was so close to having a Cortisone injection the day I was getting a second opinion at the Ortho appt.
I can go up and down stairs without pain.
I can sit on the floor and get up without groaning.
I even ran down the stairs the other day – and oh, did that feel good. I can only hope this lasts.
Heart palpitations and I go way back. I had all the cardiology tests when they started, and when the cardiologist wasn’t alarmed, I decided I wouldn’t be either.
I used to get them several times a week. Now? Rarely. And when I do get one, I smile. It reminds me I have a heart – and it’s carrying on.
If I had one wish, it would be that insurance would begin covering this medication so more people could access it. It could help so many in the long run. It’s very likely many people wouldn’t need to be on all the meds they’re currently taking for heart, cholesterol, high blood pressure, and the list goes on. But with the hefty price tag being what it is, the pharmaceutical companies are clearly making a killing.
I have no idea how I’ll feel next month, next week or even tomorrow. But what I know right now is:
I feel better.
I’m eating better.
I’m moving better.
I’m living better.
And for the first time in a long time, I’m not craving Walmart’s to die-for cinnamon rolls. In fact, just yesterday while in Walmart, I merely glanced over at the rolls – smiled-and rolled on by.
Before we raise our favorite cocktail or smoothie in a toast – quick disclaimer before someone thinks I’m moonlighting as a pharmaceutical rep: I don’t endorse this medication, I don’t make a commission, and I’m not here to convince anyone it’s a magic wand. This is simply my personal journey – one I chose with my provider and husband’s blessing, and I encourage everyone to follow their own medical guidance, not my cinnamon-roll-fueled storytelling.
One more thing before we clink glasses:
It was recently brought to my attention – by my brother, who occasionally likes to weigh in (pun fully intended), that GLP-1s aren’t just changing individual bodies. They’re quietly reshaping society in ways most of us would never think about. Because why would we?
Take airlines: lighter passengers mean lighter planes, and that could save US airlines an estimated $580 million a year in fuel costs. Fewer pounds – fewer gallons of jet fuel.
Grocery habits are shifting – households with just one GLP-1 user see a 5-6% drop in grocery spending within six months. Ultra-processed foods like chips, sweets, and baked goods are down 10-11%, while fast-food spending has fallen about 8%. Meanwhile, protein is on the rise – yogurt, lean meats and fresh foods. Protein is the new potato chip.
Retailers: A little panicked. Rapid body-size changes are flipping inventory planning on its head. Demand for S and XS sizes is up, while XL and XXL sales are down, creating an estimated $5 billion inventory risk by 2027. Returns are climbing too, as shoppers struggle to keep up with bodies that seem to shrink between checkout and delivery. On the bright side – new bodies mean new wardrobes.
Here’s one I found quite interesting – workplaces are paying attention. About 63% of employees with weight-related conditions say they’d consider switching jobs for GLP-1 coverage. That’s not a perk; that’s a recruitment strategy.
Long term, there’s also potential for reduced healthcare spending tied to chronic conditions like type 2 diabetes, kidney disease, and heart failure. Less disease – fewer bills, more PTO actually used for fun.
And finally, gyms are having their comeback tour. Participation rates among GLP-1 users have jumped from 35% to 71%, driving a urge in demand for athleisure and running shoes. When your joints feel better and your energy’s up, you might actually use that gym membership instead of just donating monthly.
So yes, these medications may start as a personal health decision, but their ripple effects are everywhere. From airlines to grocery aisles to your closet. Proof that sometimes, losing weight really does lighten the load for everyone.
And now, let’s raise our glasses in a toast:
Here’s to new medicines that behave themselves.
To cinnamon rolls that refuse to.
To knees that suddenly remember how stairs work.
And to burps that remind us we’re still gloriously alive.
May our appetites be quiet, our lawsuits successful, and our cottage cheese forever pretending to be cream cheese.
Cheers to progress – and to pants that fit again.
