Jennifer Martinez Facebook ad: “Read This If You Take GLP-1's”

About this ad

Meta Ad Library ID

1040473505584655

Platforms

Facebook, Instagram, Audience Network, Messenger and Threads

Relaunches

0

How we count

Ad text

What do you call it when you're not afraid of gaining weight anymore, just afraid of your own stomach? I didn't have a word for it either, until I found out what was actually happening in there. I'm scared to eat most stuff. That's the whole truth of it. When I eat wrong, I pay for it. So now I sit down at the table and do this little math problem before I even pick up my fork. Chicken, plain. Small bite first. Wait. See what happens. My husband noticed before I said a word. "You're doing it again," he said one night, watching me poke at my plate. "Just eat, honey." "I am eating," I said. "Slowly." He didn't get it. How could he? He's never had to plan his whole evening around whether his stomach was going to turn on him. Because that's the part nobody tells you. It's not that I'm not hungry anymore. Plenty of women on this drug are thrilled about that part. Good for them. My problem is smaller and it's dumber sounding out loud: I don't trust food anymore. Dinner with my husband. A glass of wine. A cup of coffee. All of it used to be nothing. Now every bite is a bet, and I never know going in if I'm going to win it. It got bad before I let myself admit it was bad. I started carrying Imodium in my purse everywhere I went, like I was packing for a trip I never planned on taking. Kept myself stocked with Gatorade in the pantry. Started thinking about where the bathroom was before I thought about what I wanted off the menu. The wine went first. My husband and I used to split a bottle on a Friday. Now I take one sip and spend the rest of dinner deciding if it's worth what comes after. Most nights I just don't. I told him once, "I can't even enjoy a glass of wine anymore." He just looked at me. What do you say to that. It didn't matter how careful I got, either. That's the part that really got under my skin. I'd eat less, eat plainer, and the pain came anyway. I was scared to eat anything, and I was still hurting. So I did what you do. I tried the responsible thing first. Got a multivitamin, the kind made for women my age, figured that couldn't hurt. Within fifteen minutes I was fighting not to throw up. Waves of it. I sat on the bathroom floor thinking, this is supposed to be helping me. My cardiologist recommended an electrolyte drink for the blood pressure medicine. Tasted like something you drink before a colonoscopy and gave me a worse stomach ache than I started with. Miralax. Then when that quit working, the harder stuff. Pepcid, the complete kind, has to be the complete kind, for the burping. Ginger chews in my bag like I'm twelve years old. I called my doctor about it. He said, "You probably just have a lazy stomach." A lazy stomach. Like it was my fault for not trying hard enough. I hung up thinking, a multivitamin is a multivitamin, isn't it. They're all the same junk in a different bottle, and I was the fool for thinking one label was any different from the last. Then one night I couldn't hold anything down. Watery, no warning, fire in my stomach, burping so bad it made me gag. I sat on the bathroom floor at midnight thinking about calling an ambulance, and then thinking, I can't even leave the house to get to one. I remember saying out loud, to nobody, "This is no way to live." That was the night I stopped trying to be careful and started just being scared all the time. A few weeks after that, my friend Denise called me. She's on the same shot I am. "You still doing the Imodium thing?" she asked. "Every day," I said. "I stopped needing it as much," she said. "I started taking something with black pepper in it. Sounds crazy, I know." I laughed at her. Actually laughed. "Denise, a multivitamin is a multivitamin. I've been down that road." "That's what I said too," she told me. "Until my sister explained why the last one never did anything." Here's what she told me, and here's what took me a minute to actually hear. The shot doesn't just kill your appetite. It slows down how fast your stomach empties out. Everything just sits there longer. Food. Pills. All of it. When things sit that long, your gut doesn't absorb them evenly. Some of it just passes right through you, doing nothing. That's why that multivitamin made me sick instead of better. It wasn't a bad vitamin. It just sat in a stomach that was already backed up, doing nothing but taking up room. It was never that my body was too sensitive, or that I wasn't trying hard enough. My stomach was doing exactly what the medicine told it to do. Slow down. And a pill sitting in a slow stomach is a pill that never gets where it's going. Denise said the thing she takes now has black pepper extract in it. Not for flavor. It actually blocks the stuff in your gut that breaks nutrients down before they can cross into your blood. So instead of the vitamin sitting there getting wasted, more of it actually gets in. Same capsule. Same vitamin. It just finally works the way it was supposed to. I ordered it that night, rolling my eyes at myself the whole time. Another bottle. Another thing I was probably about to waste money on. I took it with dinner and waited for the pain. That's just what I do now, I wait. It didn't come that night. Didn't mean much. One night doesn't mean anything. I kept waiting the next few days. Kept bracing for it. It always came eventually. About three weeks in, I noticed I hadn't thought about my stomach before ordering at a restaurant. I caught myself halfway through the appetizer, realizing I hadn't done the math first. I still didn't trust it. Old habits. By week six, the Imodium had been sitting in the same spot in my purse for two weeks straight. I hadn't touched it. My husband noticed before I said anything, same as always. "You're not doing the slow thing anymore," he said. "No," I said. "I guess I'm not." Last Friday we split a bottle of wine. I didn't do the math first. I just poured a glass and drank it, and somewhere around the second glass I realized I hadn't once thought about tomorrow morning. It didn't fix everything. It just stopped taking so much away from me. Turns out this was never about willpower or a sensitive stomach. It was chemistry. Fix the chemistry, and the fear goes away. If you've caught yourself saying you're scared to eat most stuff, I know exactly where you are. If sitting down to a meal feels like a bet you're not sure you're going to win, I've sat right where you're sitting. If you just want to pour a glass of wine with your own husband and drink it without paying for it later, that's not too much to want. That was the whole thing I was after the whole time. And if you've got the Imodium in your purse and a drawer full of things that were supposed to help and didn't, you're not a fool. You were doing the only thing you knew to do. What Denise takes is called Smol. It's got the black pepper extract in it, the piperine, right alongside the D3 and B12 and the digestive blend, so what's actually in the capsule has a real chance of getting where it needs to go instead of just passing through. I'm not going to pretend it works overnight. It didn't for me. Give it a few weeks before you look for anything. That's just being honest with you, the way Denise was honest with me. And if you try it and it doesn't do a thing for you, you send it back and get every dollar back. No games about it. You've already been burned by things that promised and didn't deliver. This isn't going to be one more of those. Staying scared of your own dinner one more year costs you something. It's every Friday night wine you don't pour. Every meal out you sit through doing math instead of talking to the people across the table from you. If you're ready to stop bracing for it, go see if it's still in stock. That's really all I've got for you. It's what worked for me, and I figured you should hear about it the same way I did.

Where the ad sends people

smolnutrition.store

Read This If You Take GLP-1's

Free Tracked Shipping