By the time a woman is offered a prescription for weight loss, she may have spent decades wanting an easier way to be thin. Perhaps she grew up watching her mother diet, absorbing the disappointment of a woman who could never quite accept her own body. Without realizing it, she may have learned to examine photographs of herself with the same unforgiving eye her mother turned on herself.
Long before she knew her hemoglobin A1c, her level of inflammation, or how sticky her relationship with alcohol might become, she knew what she was supposed to weigh and had learned to punish the body she lived in for failing to be the one she was told to want.
Then a medication dulls the hunger, the weight begins to fall, and people look at her with an approval so familiar in its terms that she may scarcely notice how conditional it has always been. You look incredible. Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.
How difficult, inside that approval, to admit that something feels wrong, especially when her blood sugar has improved and she can finally buy clothes without spending the rest of the day recovering from the trauma of the fitting room. She has wanted this level of relief for years. If she is also losing muscle and becoming weaker, or taking longer to recover, or finding that the desire she expected to return in a smaller body has not arrived, she may hesitate to mention it, afraid of sounding ungrateful for the very thing she wanted.
I want her to be able to say it before she decides it is the price she has to pay. My patient Dana is 49, lost 38 pounds on a GLP-1, and her A1c was normal for the first time in years. On an anniversary trip to Lisbon, she stood in the narrow aisle of a plane and discovered she could no longer lift her suitcase into the overhead bin, the same bag she had hoisted without a thought a year earlier. She laughed when a stranger lifted it for her. Later, telling me about that moment and the desire she had also begun to miss, she wondered if these observations may be related to her medication. Her HRV has fallen 30%, and she barely wants sex anymore.
She is a woman whose body had become easier for the world to admire, and she is wondering whether she is allowed to ask for more.
In my last essay, The Weight-Loss Revolution Has a Muscle, HRV, and Libido Problem, I laid out how little research has measured what women like Dana may lose alongside the weight. This is the part where I tell you what I do about it. I think GLP-1 medications are among the most consequential advances in metabolic medicine of my career, and Dana’s gains are real, but I want us to know the more comprehensive picture too.
This is personal for me. I trained in obstetrics and gynecology and then completed a two-year fellowship in women’s cardiometabolic health, so this new drug class affects the two territories I’ve spent my career tending and befriending, a woman’s heart and her pelvis, and on the desire that travels between them. What I know after more than 30 years in medical practice is that a woman will tell almost anyone about her weight and almost no one about her desire, so the clinician has to ask first.
Below is the full protocol that I use: *how I read a falling HRV, the eight steps I use to protect muscle and strength, including my own creatine dose and protein targets, the desire evaluation I run before I blame the drug, how I treat pelvic floor changes, and my twelve-week scorecard. *The timing matters, because muscle is far easier to keep than to rebuild, and the weeks of fastest weight loss are often when that gets decided.
My goal is a metabolically healthier woman who stays strong, recovers well, and still has full access to her pleasure. If you’ve spent decades trying to weigh less, you deserve a physician who asks what else you could lose along the way if you decide to try a GLP-1. Below is the eight-step protocol I use from the first prescription to protect muscle, recovery, desire, and pelvic floor function as metabolic health improves.
