Why Ozempic Is Cheating

Ten years ago, I was moved to tears by a fruit salad. I was on a stationary bicycle at the gym, half-heartedly scrolling Tumblr while my feet pushed the pedals, and suddenly, there it was: a tapestry of blueberries, blackberries, and mandarin orange wedges in a glass jar. I remember this photo the way some people describe the moments before a car crash, every glistening detail captured in adrenaline-spiked slow motion. The blackberries like dark and precious jewels, the mandarins glowed as though shot through with sunshine. The longing I felt as I looked at them — and as I started to cry — was something beyond hunger.