Susan Smith Facebook ad: “GLP-1 f*cked my hair”

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7 months into GLP-1, she stopped me going bald in under 6 weeks without taking me off the shot or making me fat again. If you've been forced to believe GLP-1 is a trade-off with your hair, give me ten minutes. I'll get you to the woman you've had in your mind for the last fifteen years, the one you were promised when the weight finally came off. I got her. For about a week. 41 pounds down, seven months on the shot, and I could see my scalp in every family photo we took. Not my arms, not my waist, not any of the stuff I'd worked a year for. Just this pale patch at the top of my head where my part used to be hair, sitting in the same picture as the best body I've had since my twenties. And honestly, I wasn't even surprised. That's the deal, right? That's what every forum told me. It's the shots. Your hair or your body, pick one. Type "Ozempic hair" into Google and it finishes the sentence for you. I believed it so hard I'd already made peace with going bald. I'm not proud of that. But if you're on the shot you probably know what that peace looks like, because you're living in it too. It looks like a wet rope of your own hair across the drain every single morning that you peel off with two fingers. It's a ponytail that wraps three times now when it used to wrap once and fight you. It's the hair in your brush coming out with those little white bulbs on the end, and knowing enough to know that's the root, and pulling it out and looking at it anyway. My part used to be a line. Now it's a lane. I can feel wind on my scalp. I never in my life thought I'd write that sentence down. And the thing that actually scared me was that it was speeding up. This wasn't one bad month. Every month was worse than the one before it, and one night I did the math on my ponytail and gave myself about a year. So I did what we all do. Dragged my part over to one side. Kept my hair down in the middle of summer. Stopped taking the passenger seat, because that's where the light comes in. Back row of every photo. You know the drill. And here's the part that makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time. I spent a year getting a body worth being looked at, and now I'm hiding again. Different reason, same bathroom. Because you're not allowed to cry about this one. Nobody tells you that. Everyone's answer is the same, at least you're skinny now, and they mean it kindly, and it makes you feel like the most ungrateful woman alive. So you do it with the fan on where nobody can hear you. Hair was the one thing that made me feel like a woman when the scale didn't. Now the scale finally does, and the hair is going. I don't know how to explain that to someone who hasn't lived it. What I do know is I was not handing back the body I'd fought a year for. Not for a ponytail. I'd rather be thin and bald than fat with hair, and I actually said that out loud, to a real person, in those words. That's how far the lie gets in. It doesn't just make you accept it. It makes you volunteer. But I wasn't okay. And the drain didn't care what I'd decided. So I asked my provider. My appointments are about seven minutes. You get weighed, she says great job, asks about nausea, and you're back at the desk paying. So I waited for a gap and said it the way you'd mention a rash. I've been losing a lot of hair. She didn't look at my head. She looked at my chart. Labs perfect, weight great, and then the sentence every woman on the shot has heard word for word. "That's normal. It's the shock of losing weight this fast. It's temporary, it grows back once your weight settles." A little shrug, already half out of the chair. Next patient. And I believed her. She's the doctor, and it was the answer I wanted anyway. So I waited, the way you do, clearing the drain every morning and telling myself temporary. But months later, my weight settled, and my part was still wider than ever. So I stopped asking her. And I started asking everyone else. Everyone else had an answer. I tried all of them. ❌ Doubled my protein, choked down shakes I could barely keep down on the shot. ❌ Biotin, the gummies and then the pills, $30 a month for breakouts. ❌ Collagen in my coffee, $50 a tub. ❌ The thickening shampoo that works for exactly one day. ❌ Rosemary oil, because TikTok swore by it, and I swear it made the shedding worse. ❌ Then minoxidil, $45 a month and a sticky scalp, and the box tells you straight out that if you ever stop, whatever grew falls right back out. All it does is push more blood to the follicle. It doesn't touch whatever's actually causing the loss. Close to $500 gone, and I could still see my scalp in every photo. Here's how I finally found out what was actually going on. And it wasn't from a doctor, not at first. The shots weren't getting any cheaper and my insurance had stopped pretending to care, so I picked up front desk shifts at the weight loss clinic, three mornings a week, purely for the staff discount. I'm not going to pretend it was anything more noble than that. If you've never sat behind the desk at one of these places, you see things you're not supposed to see. It's women all day, every one of us on the same drug, and after a couple of weeks you start noticing the side parts. The hair worn down in July. The way a woman stands so the ceiling light isn't right over her head while she signs in. I caught myself doing it too, tilting my head so the mirror behind me didn't show my crown. All of us hiding the same thing from each other, in a room that exists to celebrate what the shot did for us. There was one woman I checked in every month, same day, same time. The first time she came through, her hair was dragged hard to one side, and I knew exactly why because that's my part too. The next month it looked a little better. I told myself I was imagining it. The month after that I wasn't imagining it. By her fourth visit her part had closed up and her ponytail was thick, and the whole time her number on my screen was still going down. She was still losing weight. And her hair was coming back. That's the part that got me, because that wasn't supposed to be possible. So one morning while I was printing her receipt I just asked her. What are you doing. She said it wasn't the shots and it wasn't luck. It was a doctor she'd started seeing across town, Dr. Patricia, and what she'd put her on. No pitch, no link, nothing to sell me. Just one woman telling another across a counter. I booked that week. It is not what you picture. Two rooms above a dentist, a waiting room with four chairs and a fish tank, no screens, no branded water bottles, none of the stuff my clinic spends its money on. Dr. Patricia is in her sixties, reading glasses on a chain, and she's been looking at women's scalps for longer than I've been alive. She looks at your head before she looks at your chart. I noticed that straight away, because it was the first time in a year anyone had. First thing she said to me, before I'd even sat down properly: "You've been eating more protein and your part's still getting wider." I hadn't told her a thing yet. How did she know. "Because every woman who sits in that chair has done the same six things." And she listed them. The protein, the biotin, the collagen, the shampoo, the rosemary oil, the minoxidil. I felt like an idiot until she said the next part. "They're not bad things. They're just not made for what's happening to you. They feed the hair. Nothing you've taken touches the reason it's leaving." Then she explained it, and I'm going to give it to you the way she gave it to me, because nobody at my clinic had ever said one word of this. Two different things happen to your hair on these shots, and everyone blames the wrong one. The first is the shed a couple of months in. Your body panics from losing weight so fast and drops hair. That one really is temporary, it grows back on its own, and that's the one my provider was talking about. She wasn't lying to me. She was describing the wrong problem. The second one is the one nobody warns you about. Your fat wasn't just fat. It was making estrogen. Quietly, for years, your fat was topping up your estrogen every single day without you knowing. I had never heard that in my life. Most women haven't. Most of the women handing out these shots haven't. So when you lose forty pounds that fast, you shut that factory down. Your estrogen doesn't drift down, it falls off a cliff. And estrogen was the thing standing between your hair and a hormone called DHT. DHT has been in your body your whole life. Estrogen kept it off your follicles, like a shield. Take the shield away and DHT walks straight in, grabs the follicle, and shrinks it. Every cycle the hair that grows back is a little thinner, then wispy, then nothing. That's the loss that doesn't bounce back. That's why my part kept widening after my weight settled. There was nothing temporary about it, so waiting was never going to touch it. So what do I do, I said. Get off the shot? "No. You block the DHT. Two ways. Stop your body making so much of it, and stop the DHT that's already there from holding onto your follicles." The shot never took your hair. Losing the fat that fast took the shield down, and the DHT did the rest. Block the DHT and you keep both. I asked if blocking a hormone was dangerous. She laughed. "DHT does nothing your hair needs. Men take a prescription to block it every day. You're going to do it the way women did before there were prescriptions." With food. Two things, and both have been used for hair and hormones for hundreds of years, long before there was a lab to prove why. Pumpkin seed oil. Not the snack, the oil pressed out of the seed. It works at the source, where DHT gets made, and turns the tap down. And saw palmetto. A berry the Seminole tribes in Florida were eating for exactly this centuries ago. It stands at the door. It stops the DHT that's already there from attaching to the follicle. One turns down the supply, the other guards the door, and they've been studied in women, not just men. In one review, women who took saw palmetto for six months, 93% said their shedding dropped and 83% saw their hair get denser. So I'll just eat pumpkin seeds, I said. "You can't get there. You'd need a bowl of raw seeds a day, every day, and the oil in the store is heat-pressed, which cooks out the part that does the work. And you can't rub it on. The dose that was studied is what's inside you, not on your scalp." Same with saw palmetto. Most of what's sold is dried berry powder in a capsule. Only one in twenty-eight products even meets the standard the studies used. "The one I put my patients on is Bloom & Bond." She put the bottle on the desk between us. Two thousand milligrams of cold-pressed pumpkin seed oil. Two hundred milligrams of the real saw palmetto extract, the kind from the studies. Two capsules a day. No serum, no greasy scalp, no second prescription on top of the first. I ordered Bloom & Bond in the parking lot before I'd even pulled out. I wrote down what happened, because after $500 of nothing I didn't trust myself to notice. ✅️ Week three, I realized I hadn't cleared the drain. I went back and looked. A few strands. Not a rope. ✅️ Week five, I brushed my hair over the white sink to check, the way you do when you're scared to hope. Nothing worth counting. ✅️ Week six, I washed my hair without holding my breath. First time in months. That's the day I knew it had stopped, and I stood there with the water running and cried, the good kind this time. ✅️ Month three, baby hairs. Little ones standing straight up along my part like they'd just arrived and didn't know where to go. ✅️ Month five, the part I'd been dragging to one side was filling in. I moved it back to the middle. Nobody noticed, which was the whole point. And the entire time, the shot stayed. I didn't skip one dose. The weight stayed off. The choice I'd been so scared of, the body or the hair, I never had to make it. I got both. No dread shed like minoxidil, no side effects, not for me anyway, nothing my body had to get used to. It's not a drug, it's food. Your body already knows what to do with it. So picture your next photo. The real after photo. The one where you don't check the top of your head before you post it, where the light can hit you from anywhere and you don't care. That's six weeks away. Not another six months of being told to wait. 👉 https://trybloomandbond.com/products/new-pumpkin-seed-oil-softgels I'm not the only one anymore. My sister's on the shot too, and she'd been quietly buying hats. I didn't say anything, I just put a bottle in her bag. She's four months in now and her drain looks like mine. Still losing weight. Hair coming back. Then Dana, the nurse who does the injections at my clinic. She'd been wearing her hair in a claw clip every single shift for a year and I finally asked her why. Same story, same side part, same provider telling her to wait. She started Bloom & Bond in the spring. Last week she came in with it down. And then a patient. A woman I check in every month, hair dragged hard to one side the way mine used to be. One morning while I was printing her receipt I asked if I could tell her something. No pitch. Just one woman telling another across a counter. That's how it got to me, and now that's how it leaves. Every one of us was told the same thing. It's the shots. You have to pick. You don't. Nobody at my clinic had the answer. An old doctor in two rooms above a dentist did. 👉 https://trybloomandbond.com/products/new-pumpkin-seed-oil-softgels There's a ninety-day money-back guarantee, so the only thing you're risking is another six months of being told to wait. I'm just mad I spent a year being told to wait. Or worse, to hand back the one thing that finally worked. Never again. Susan

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GLP-1 f*cked my hair

You do not have to choose between your weight or hair