Today, I feel floored – and confused. This is the day Mounjaro prices soar, turning what many of us call a miracle jab into something we can no longer afford.
Thanks to an edict by Donald Trump, US maker Eli Lilly has been forced to raise prices in the UK, with new wholesale costs to chemists increasing by up to 102 per cent.
Last week, Mounjaro sales were paused as buyers rushed to get their hands on the drug before the price hike – while pharmacies have been urging customers to make the switch to its cheaper rival jab Wegovy, made by Danish company Novo Nordisk.
Today, we’ll see how the move plays out across the weight-loss market and whether stock returns to the shelves.
But whatever happens, the Mounjaro bubble has burst – while Wegovy, now more than £100 cheaper at stores like Boots and Asda, and £150 less at smaller online pharmacies, mops up disaffected former users.
And yet I am something of a cautionary tale, one of those who has tried both Mounjaro and Wegovy in quick succession over an 18-month period.
Though I lost weight on Wegovy, I also endured savage side-effects – the worst constipation of my life, followed by violent vomiting and diarrhoea. None of this happened on Mounjaro.
Alice Dogroyul started her GLP-1 journey in 2023. Two years before, she’d been diagnosed with type 1 diabetes and found it impossible to stop the pounds piling on
When Alice stopped using Mounjaro, the hunger roared back, her portions increased and the weight crept back on
Though I lost weight on Wegovy, I also endured savage side-effects – the worst constipation of my life, followed by violent vomiting and diarrhoea. None of this happened on Mounjaro.
I also know what it’s like to stop using Mounjaro. Despite my best efforts, I fell apart.
Without any jabs at all, the hunger roared back, my portions increased, and the weight crept back on.
No wonder I am looking at these price increases – a possible extra £1,000 a year – with a trepidation verging on fear.
My GLP-1 journey began back in December 2023, when, at the age of 46, I jumped onto the fat-jab bandwagon. Two years before, I’d been diagnosed with type 1 diabetes – not the type 2 associated with obesity, which also unlocks NHS treatment – and found it impossible to stop the pounds piling on.
Utterly miserable, I hauled my 19st 9lb body into the private clinic of specialist endocrinologist Dr Dipesh Patel at The Cleveland Clinic and after lots of tests, he started me on Wegovy.
And yes, it worked. In the first ten months I lost 2st 9lb. But while many who use Wegovy don’t experience any issues, for me the side-effects were gruesome.
The first month on 0.25mg was manageable: appetite suppression was instant. There was a constant hum of nausea but it was tolerable. I couldn’t finish a plate of food and I’d skip breakfast without noticing.
Then in January, I upped the dose to 0.5mg and hit my first bump in the road. One afternoon I binged on a box of four protein bars. I hadn’t had enough fibre or water, and what followed was agonising constipation.
Weight-loss jabs work in part by slowing gastric emptying – it makes your stomach release food into your intestines at a much reduced pace. That’s one of the reasons you feel full sooner and for longer.
But the flipside is that your digestive system becomes sluggish. Combine that with protein bars full of dense whey and very little fibre, and you have the perfect recipe for a compacted stool.
I was doubled over with pain, convinced I’d end up in hospital. When things finally did, ahem, move, it tore me inside, causing what I later found out – after a colonoscopy – was a fissure.
My doctor advised daily laxatives, which I started taking religiously just to keep everything moving. Despite that unfortunate episode, which in truth was somewhat self-inflicted, I was determined to carry on.
When I upped the dose to 1mg in February, however, disaster struck again. Out of nowhere, I was hit with 48 hours of relentless sickness and diarrhoea, like food poisoning but worse.
And then came a new horror I hadn’t expected: the dreaded ‘Wegovy sulphur burps’. If you know, you know – stomach-churning little eruptions that make you want to hide under the duvet and not speak to anyone.
This violent reaction wasn’t anything to do with what I’d eaten – again it was to do with how slowly the stomach empties. For some people it causes nothing but queasiness. For me, my body went into full revolt. I couldn’t keep anything down or in.
My doctor reassured me that my symptoms sounded familiar, and that I should take a week off the jabs and drop my dose back down to 0.5mg. He suggested I use Imodium, and hydration sachets and, because of my diabetes, keep an eye on my glucose and ketone levels which I did.
Still, I persevered, and three months later tried to increase the dose to 1mg again.
To mitigate the side-effects, I tried to drink at least a litre of water every day, increase my intake of green low-carb veg, and use gentle laxatives.
Over ten months I increased to 1.7mg and then the strongest dose of 2.4mg – which is when, perversely, the weight-loss benefits began to blunt.
Alarmingly my appetite felt like it was returning. My weight loss plateaued. The truth is, the drivers that made me overeat were still there. I’d always battled with my weight.
Since my mid 20s I’d tried everything: a gastric balloon (months of nausea and discomfort before removal), diet after diet, self-development, therapy, health retreats, hypnotherapy, gym memberships. I’d lose weight, then re-gain it, over and over.
Meanwhile, everyone was talking about the new jab in town – tirzepatide, sold as Mounjaro.
After hearing my concerns about Wegovy’s effectiveness apparently waning, my doctor agreed to try me on Mounjaro. We began at 5mg, then effortlessly climbed to 7mg and 10mg.
To be honest, it felt like a smooth, supercharged upgrade with far milder side-effects. Using Mounjaro helped me shed a further 17lb in eight months. It felt like the medication I’d been waiting for all my life.
Most importantly, my blood sugars had never been better. I was able to stick to a low-carb/ketogenic diet, and the spikes and crashes that define type 1 diabetes softened. My energy and mood were improved. For me, it was nothing short of miraculous. At 12mg, I felt euphoric. And then life threw another twist.
This summer I was keen to start IVF, but my clinic told me I had to stop Mounjaro for a few months first. There simply isn’t robust safety data for pregnancy, so the risk was too high.
I thought I could handle it, that after nearly a year-and-a-half of eating less, and dropping close to 4st, I’d be fine. Instead, it was hell. Within eight weeks, I regained 13lb. My carefully managed keto lifestyle fell apart. I binged, I snacked, I panicked.
I felt so dreadful, physically and emotionally, that for the first time I even questioned whether I could go through with IVF at all.
Life without Mounjaro left me feeling so unwell and out of control, I doubted whether I had the strength to put my body through it. That’s how much this drug has steadied me.
I tried more natural alternatives to stimulate GLP-1 which did have a positive effect, but I kept forgetting to take the supplements when I was supposed to. I felt unstable. My motivation and mood plummeted – I felt like I was unravelling.
Eventually, I chose to restart Mounjaro and press pause on IVF. Back on a low dose of 2.5mg for a month then rising to 5mg, it was like switching the lights back on. The hunger quietened and my mood lifted. I felt in control again.
This time, I was proactive: hydration, fibre, gentle laxatives. No nausea, no chaos. Just calm and back into low carb/keto and intermittent fasting – the diet that works best for me.
But I’d learned a harsh lesson about what I call ‘Mounjaro withdrawal’.
The hunger, the sugar spikes, the weight regain – it terrified me. That’s when I rang my friend, personal trainer extraordinaire Kate Rowe-Ham.
She refused to let me wallow. Instead, she suggested we channel my fear into something bigger. Maybe we could help others cope with the cravings, the habits, and the emotional rollercoaster that GLP-1s never fully erase.
So we decided to create The Shift – a one-day workshop for women navigating life before, during and after GLP-1s. Because here’s the truth: GLP-1s can silence hunger, but they don’t wipe out decades of habits or coping mechanisms.
I’ve lived through every twist and turn of this. The despair of Wegovy’s brutal side-effects. The joy of shedding almost 4st. The chaos of Mounjaro withdrawal. And the sheer relief of being back on it.
But now I’ve made my decision. Both Wegovy and Mounjaro gave me steady weight loss, mental calm, and the strength to stick to a low-carb lifestyle. But Mounjaro did it better.
I’m on 5mg now and it’s working well. In a few months, once I’ve increased the dose and shifted the weight I put back on, I’ll taper off it again.
But this time I’ll be ready for the return of the dreaded food noise and the pull of old habits. And once IVF is behind me, I’ll almost certainly restart it – or whatever new wonder drug is next.
Newer, stronger jabs are already on the horizon that promise even greater results. (I hope they deliver, though I fear they’ll come with punishing price tags.)
And yes, after today’s hikes, it seems as though Mounjaro – at the strength I need it – may well cost me more than £3,500 a year. But nothing tastes as good as healthy feels, so I will find the money. I will cut back, compromise, re-prioritise. Meanwhile, if for any reason I have to go back on Wegovy, I will do so armed with the knowledge and the tools I now have to soften the side-effects I experienced last time.
These drugs are the difference between chaos and control, despair and dignity for me.
And if survival has a price tag, then it’s clearly worth paying.
