Every month, without fail, a package arrives at my door. It’s not a gift or anything exciting like that. Instead, it’s a small parcel that I’ve learned to hide away.

The moment it lands on the doormat, mixed in with the usual bills and junk mail, I’m on high alert.

I scoop it up quickly, head straight upstairs, and tuck it away in my underwear drawer. It’s not exactly the kind of delivery I’d want anyone to notice

If it were a Christmas or birthday present, that would be one thing, but no—what I’m hiding is far more personal.

The Secret Weapon: Mounjaro

What’s in that package? Mounjaro injections.

These are my last-ditch hope for getting my post-menopausal body back to a time when I could easily slip into my skinny jeans and didn’t hear my knees creak every time I bent down.

After years of battling my weight with endless dieting and exhausting workouts, Mounjaro feels like a mini-miracle.

It offers me a real chance at being comfortable in my skin again—without all the starvation and crazy gym routines.

Why the Secrecy?

You might wonder why I’m hiding this from my family.

The answer is complicated. I’ve got three teenage daughters, and let’s just say they don’t exactly share my enthusiasm for these injections.

In fact, my daughters—aged 19, 17, and 15—are all about body positivity and self-love, and I can’t help but feel conflicted about my decision to try Mounjaro. Growing up, I remember my mom being pretty blunt about food choices.

A casual comment like, “A minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips,” would have me reaching for the apple instead of the cookies.

But things have changed. Today’s teenagers, like my daughters, are vocal about their stance on body image and weight.

They’re fearless when it comes to rejecting fat-shaming, and the thought of me even commenting on what they eat feels like stepping into a minefield.

If I were to tell them about my weight-loss attempts, I know they’d have a lot to say, none of it supportive.

The Struggles With Elsie

One of my daughters, Elsie, has always been more on the chubby side.

She loves food and has zero issues with it. Her favorite meal is a hearty bowl of carbonara, extra lardons, and parmesan piled on top.

While her friends might be sporting crop tops and shorts at parties, Elsie proudly embraces her fuller figure, saying, “Boys prefer a bigger bum anyway.”

I admire her confidence and self-love, but a part of me wonders if she could be a bit healthier.

I know it’s not the right thing to say, and I’m conscious of not imposing my outdated views on her.

But when I see her enjoying another slice of cake, a small part of me still feels the need to remind her that sometimes less is more.

Elsie doesn’t hold back when we clash over food. Once, in frustration, I told her she didn’t need another piece of cake, that it wasn’t necessary to keep eating.

She shot back, saying that if she had internalized my approach to food, she’d either be anorexic or in therapy.

That comment stung, and she didn’t speak to me for days after that.

The Dilemma of Being a Mom

All of my daughters think I have an eating disorder. They’ve bought into the idea that any form of dieting or attention to weight is unhealthy, so I’m forced to keep my Mounjaro treatment a secret.

The last thing I want is to endure a lecture about how I should love myself as I am.

So, I’ve kept this little weight-loss journey to myself. If they found out, I’d be bombarded with lectures and heartfelt speeches about self-acceptance.

Even my husband wouldn’t be on board. If I told him what I was doing, he’d probably suggest a 10km run or a few more gym sessions, thinking I’m going to extreme lengths.

So instead, I keep it to myself, taking my weekly injections when everyone’s asleep.

I store the Mounjaro pen in a bag of kale in the fridge (a spot I’m confident no one will raid).

So far, no one’s noticed, and I’ve managed to avoid any side effects.

The Results

The best part? It’s working. In just the first month, I lost six pounds.

It feels like a miracle, especially after struggling with weight gain post-menopause.

The idea of fighting middle-aged spread through just dieting and exercise always felt like trying to hold back a flood.

Now, with Mounjaro, I’m finally seeing progress.

But there’s one thing that’s been bothering me.

Despite my own struggles, I still live in a household where people talk about body acceptance while indulging in fast food.

Meanwhile, I’m sneaking around with my kale and carrot sticks, praying that my secret remains safe.

My daughters have no idea that I’ve eaten next to nothing for the past month.

The Bigger Picture

Sure, my daughters might tell me, “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels,” but they’d probably follow it up with a long list of reasons why they wouldn’t sacrifice their love for food.

And they’re right.

But after nearly fifty years of indulging, it’s clear to me that there has to be a balance.

So, for the sake of my health and fitting into those size-12 jeans, I’m just hoping they never discover my little secret.

Ultimately, it’s about finding a way to live in my own skin while avoiding judgment from the people I love most.

And if keeping this one secret helps me get there, then I’ll do it—quietly, for now.

This article was published on TDPel Media. Thanks for reading!

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