I've lost four stone on Mounjaro so I can have IVF - and here's exactly what experts have told me to do to keep it off: From the secret ingredient that curbs hunger to the supplement that's 'nature's Ozempic'...

I never imagined that coming off a medication could feel like stepping off a cliff. But here I am, bracing for the freefall.

For the past 17 months, two injectable weight loss drugs – Wegovy (the version of Ozempic licensed for weight management) and Mounjaro – have done what no diet, therapy, or burst of willpower ever could: they didn’t just quiet the chaos in my head around food, they erased it.

They let me live without constantly negotiating with my appetite or being dragged into exhausting cycles of guilt and craving.

Now I have lost 4st and hit my target. Not a desired size of jeans, but a BMI of 32 – the number at which my IVF clinic will agree to begin my very last attempt at becoming pregnant.

I am tapering off Mounjaro and it is crucial I do not regain a pound. This is not a vanity project, after all, but my entire chance at motherhood.

And yet, already I am finding it tougher than I’d hoped or expected. Having gone down slowly from my maximum dose of 12.5mg to one of 2.5mg, for the first time since starting the jabs in December 2023, hunger is creeping back in. I’m anxious, preoccupied with food, and feeling my appetite inch back into the driver’s seat.

It’s taking serious effort to stay in control. The whole thing feels disturbingly familiar – like the old me is resurfacing.

Diet industry experts have coined a new phrase for the fear of re-gaining weight after the jabs, describing it as ‘Oz-iety’ – the very real anxiety that people feel when coming off Ozempic.

And I understand it totally. Because while I can live with Ozempic face, sagging skin, and Mounjaro-induced constipation (a horror in itself), what I simply can’t contemplate is regaining the weight I have lost.

Almost six years ago, I created five embryos at a clinic in west London. To go ahead with the process of implantation, the clinic insisted that my BMI must be 32 or under – but here’s the twist: I must also be off all GLP-1 drugs for two months before treatment, as their effect on pregnancy is unknown.

I am 47 years old (no judgment, please) and there are added complications to my situation. I have type 1 diabetes – ironically, not the reversible kind caused by diet or being overweight, but the incurable, lifelong, insulin-dependent autoimmune kind.

Insulin keeps me alive, but it’s also our primary fat-storage hormone – when levels are high, it blocks fat burning and encourages the body to store more. If I’m not meticulously disciplined, the weight can creep on frighteningly fast. That’s part of what made my weight so difficult to control before the GLP-1 jabs such as Mounjaro came along.

But it is doable – and with the jabs much more so.

My progress hitherto, first on Wegovy and then Mounjaro, has been slow, steady and hard-won.

The medication finally helped me stick to the low-carb, intermittent fasting lifestyle I’d always aimed for, but had never quite managed to maintain. I was already teetotal, but I cut out snacking and committed to just two nutritious meals a day.

Thanks to the jabs, I finished eating every day by 6pm.

For someone who, at the end of 2023, was tipping the scales at 19st 7lb, it was a complete revelation. I now weigh 15st 7lb and, at 5ft 8in, am still officially obese – but my goal isn’t slenderness, it’s pregnancy.

For years, weight loss was my full-time hobby and my greatest failure. I’ve tried every diet, every therapy, every retreat and woo-woo treatment under the sun.

Year after year, I’d gain 3st and lose 3st – not pounds like a ‘normal’ person, but stones.

I once had a gastric balloon inflated inside me, which worked, until it needed to be taken out (you can’t keep it in forever) and I piled it all back on.

I even came within days of a gastric bypass, only to call it off a week before. Instead, I threw myself into therapy: Overeaters Anonymous, DBT (Dialectical Behaviour Therapy, a form of CBT), hypnotherapy, the Hoffman Process.

They helped me understand some of the emotional reasons why I overate – but knowing isn’t the same as doing. Insight didn’t stop me from reaching for the biscuits. I was trying to rewire my brain while it was still screaming for comfort food.

I’d manage to keep things under control for a month or two, but then fall back into old habits.

Then came Wegovy. I first heard diabetes specialist Professor Barbara McGowan speak about it at an event in November 2023. She described obesity as a disease – one with an effective treatment at last – and I cried tears of recognition and hope.

Later, she suggested I book a private consultation with her colleague, Dr Dipesh Patel, a world-class endocrinologist. Despite my type 1 diabetes diagnosis, he agreed to treat me, taking extra precautions.

We started slowly: 0.25mg of Wegovy, around Christmas 2023. By New Year, something shifted. The endless mental chatter about what to eat, when to eat, how on earth I might stop eating, went quiet. For the first time in my entire life, I felt full after just half a Pret chicken salad.

For someone who used to feel hungry even after a full meal, that was nothing short of miraculous.

My insulin requirements went down, I started to drop weight and my blood sugar levels improved.

There were bumps in the road: brutal constipation, burps that could clear a room and one memorable episode of violent vomiting and diarrhoea after a dose increase that was too much, too soon. But I stuck with it.

After ten months, however, the effects began to wear off, and my weight loss began to stall. My doctor agreed I could switch to Mounjaro and it felt like stepping up a gear.

Tirzepatide, the drug sold under the brand name Mounjaro, targets not only GLP-1 receptors but also receptors for GIP (another hormone released in your gut in response to food intake) delivering even more powerful appetite suppression.

It also appears to improve insulin sensitivity and reduce the release of glucagon, a hormone that raises blood sugar by prompting the liver to release stored glucose. All of which helps keep my blood sugar in check.

I moved up month on month from 5mg to 7.5mg and then to 10mg smoothly. By the time I hit 12.5mg in December 2024, my appetite had all but disappeared. I could easily go until 4pm without wanting to eat and, even then, one meal a day was enough to leave me genuinely satisfied. I just had to make sure that meal was packed with enough protein, fat and fibre to keep me nourished and balanced.

And then, with my goal in sight, I dared to dream that it might be time to undergo the IVF I’ve been trying to get slim enough to start.

My treatment is scheduled for the end of summer, so I have to be off the jabs entirely within a month – and you can’t just stop overnight.

In the same way that it took me 12 months to get up to the magical 12.5mg dose, I have been slowly reducing my dose over the past five months under Dr Patel’s guidance.

When you’ve been on a GLP-1 receptor agonist such as Mounjaro for a while, your body can dampen its natural appetite-regulating systems – including GLP-1 production and receptor sensitivity – meaning that if you come off too quickly, your brain and gut haven’t had time to recalibrate and hunger hormones like ghrelin can surge. Boom – suddenly you’re ravenously hungry again.

It is advised that a gradual taper gives your receptors time to reset and helps reduce the risk of rebound weight gain.

The drop from 12.5mg to 10mg was subtle but unsettling – not dramatic, but just enough to let the food thoughts start creeping back in. For the first time in more than a year, I found myself thinking about having a 10pm snack before bed, but I forced myself to have a cup of chamomile tea instead.

I was then meant to drop to 7.5mg, but stayed on 10mg for an extra month. The truth? I was scared of losing the fragile control I’d fought so hard to find.

But I couldn’t put it off for ever. In March, I took a deep breath and dropped to 7.5mg. That went OK. Then came the move to 5mg, always taken religiously on what I’ve dubbed Mounjaro Monday. What once felt like a weekly superpower injection felt more like an engine quietly losing steam – still moving, but with a lot more effort.

At 5mg I found myself craving a slice of buttered sourdough toast and peering into the fridge looking for a forgotten piece of chocolate. It isn’t overwhelming, but it is familiar, that quiet hum of hunger I haven’t heard in so long.

And now, at 2.5mg, it’s frankly awful. I’m having to work much harder to keep food at arm’s length. It’s not just about resisting the almond croissants any more, it’s a full-time mental negotiation. The old habits are knocking.

Part of me is still clinging to the hope that my body might surprise me, that even now, I can effortlessly morph into one of those slim friends who forget to eat lunch, nibble politely at dinner and somehow make a bar of chocolate last two months.

It’s not as though I haven’t been working on my eating as well as taking the jabs. I’ve spent time and money on therapy, metabolic research and nutritional education. What the jabs gave me was the headspace to act on everything I’d learned and actually make it stick.

As long as I can make it stick...

These days, I’m wearing size 16-18 and, for the first time in my life, a size 12 doesn’t feel like a fantasy. But that’s not the point. My real goal right now is a baby. My baby.

Once I’m a mum – touch every piece of wood in sight – I do plan to go back on the jabs. Maybe for life, maybe not.

Meanwhile, I’ve drawn up a military-style plan for when the jabs finally reduce to zero, next month.

Yes, I’ll be on my own again, but I have the fiercest of incentives to keep my BMI below 32. For the sake of my baby, I intend to support my metabolism, encourage natural GLP-1 production and stay intensely focused. Here’s how…

Building muscle isn’t just about looking toned, it’s one of the most powerful tools we have for long-term health.

Muscle is metabolically active tissue that burns more calories at rest and acts like a glucose sponge, soaking up sugar from the bloodstream and helping to keep blood sugar levels stable.

That’s why I’ve signed up to Owning Your Menopause, a fitness app by my friend Kate Rowe-Ham, the only woman who’s ever managed to get me exercising without excuses.

Since meeting Dr Ian Lake, the Keto King, in February 2024, I’ve leaned into a low-carb, occasionally ketogenic lifestyle, which aims to shift the body into a state of nutritional ketosis, where it burns fat for fuel instead of carbohydrates.

Increasingly recommended by clinicians for use in all types of diabetes, it’s a regimen that’s worked wonders for me as someone with type 1 diabetes.

Put simply, fewer carbs = less insulin = less fat storage.

Plus, low-carb diets have been shown to boost natural GLP-1 and suppress appetite.

I’m hoping that after 16 months of eating this way, it’s become second nature and that I won’t suddenly start piling my plate with pasta and rice the minute the meds reduce to zero.

Old habits die hard, but new ones can stick with a little effort and a lot of cauliflower mash.

During a recent trip to Dubai, I booked an appointment with Dr Feruza Gafarova, one of the UAE’s leading endocrinologists.

One of her top recommendations for me was Calocurb, a natural supplement developed by the New Zealand government after 15 years of research. She’s seen excellent results in her patients – and now, first-hand, so have I.

The magic ingredient is Amarasate, an extract from a specific type of hop, clinically shown to stimulate the body’s own satiety hormones – called CCK, GLP-1, and PYY – helping to curb hunger by 30 per cent, reduce cravings by 40 per cent, and lower calorie intake by around 18 per cent within an hour.

The effect can last up to six hours, offering real support during the tricky transition off weight loss injections.

Cardiologist Dr Ross Walker recently explained to me that certain gut bacteria, including Akkermansia, play a vital role in regulating the metabolism and naturally boosting GLP-1 production.

That’s why I’m planning to add Theronomic Akkermansia to my daily supplement line-up.

It’s not just any probiotic; it’s a tribiotic, combining prebiotics, probiotics and postbiotics to nourish, seed, and strengthen the gut barrier all at once – giving the Akkermansia already in my gut the best possible environment to thrive.

Dr Walker also pointed to new studies suggesting that Bergamot Juice Extract 100 per cent (BJE100) may further enhance GLP-1 secretion, especially when paired with a serious cull of processed foods.

It’s a gut-first, GLP-1-friendly approach to staying on track.

Enter fibre, the unsung hero of metabolic health.

Research by dietitian and neuroscientist Dr Caitlin Hall shows that prebiotic fibre is

broken down by our gut bacteria to produce short chain fatty acids (or SCFAs).

There is emerging evidence to show that SCFAs can activate GLP-1 receptors, which are located on colon cells. I’m using Myota’s Metabolic Booster powder, which blends the right fibres to feed the right bugs.

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Bonus: fibre keeps you fuller for longer, which is exactly what I need as I come off medication.

I’m going to be mixing a scoop of this in water and downing it if I have a craving.

I recently met the Swiss scientist Dr Peter Koeppel, who spent more than 20 years researching how nucleotides – the essential building blocks for cell renewal and repair – can influence not just gut health and the immune response, but fat metabolism too.

His research showed that nucleotide supplementation helps the body favour protein production over fat storage – meaning it supports muscle building and repair, rather than encouraging fat gain.

It also helps stabilise blood sugar, which is crucial when you’re coming off GLP-1s and trying to keep your metabolism working in your favour. Dr Koeppel’s Nutri-tide formula, used in IntestAid IB, combines all five major nucleotides with vitamins and amino acids to strengthen the gut lining, boost nutrient absorption and support a body that’s primed for lean tissue maintenance – not fat accumulation.

Poor sleep doesn’t just make you tired – it wreaks havoc on your hormones.

One bad night and suddenly your body starts craving carbs, your blood sugar goes haywire and your appetite-regulating hormones go AWOL.

Ghrelin (the hunger hormone) surges, leptin (which keeps you feeling full) plummets and GLP-1 – the golden child of appetite control – all but disappears.

Sleep isn’t a luxury, it’s a metabolic must-have. I’m now guarding my seven hours like gold dust. Because the truth is simple: no sleep = no control. Wish me luck.