Three months into her GLP-1 weight loss journey, Lucy Britner shares how her drinking habits have changed and what that could mean for the industry

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The side effects of Wegovy and Mounjaro, the two main GLP-1 jabs available via private prescription, vary from person to person. But acid reflux, nausea and headaches are common, and none of them exactly encourage another round. The after effects of drinking also feel more severe, perhaps because I’m simply eating less. Then there’s the big one lurking in the background: acute pancreatitis, which just happens to also be linked to excessive alcohol consumption. I’m no scientist, but I don’t want to double my chances.

And it’s not cheap. Mounjaro starts at around £176 a month, Wegovy at £99, with prices rising as doses increase. Against that, I recently struggled through a pint that cost £8.30 – good job I didn’t fancy another.

Food has changed for me as well. Fatty dishes turn my stomach; a once-beloved charcuterie board barely gets a glance. Small plates appeal, but their contents are less about salt and fat. Supermarkets are already responding, rolling out GLP-1-friendly ranges that are high in protein and fibre and low in fat. M&S calls its offer Nutrient Dense; Co-op has gone with Good Fuel.

Hospitality isn’t standing still either. Last year, Heston Blumenthal, a GLP-1 user, introduced the Mindful Experience tasting menu at The Fat Duck. Billed as an exploration of our relationship with food and how eating can promote wellbeing, it offers dishes such as nitro-poached aperitif and aerated beetroot.

Even Wetherspoons has adapted. Its ‘small pub classics’ selection isn’t aimed at children, and the margins look comparatively decent. A full ham, egg and chips with a soft drink comes in at £8.82 and 856 calories. The smaller version costs £7.70 – but drops to 455 calories, so it’s almost half the amount of food but only £1.12 cheaper.

While not much of this sounds especially positive for bars, as my own journey has progressed, something interesting has happened. I may want to drink less, but I also want to drink better. If I’m only having one or two, they need to be worth it. And because I’m no longer getting to the stage where a round of shots seems like a good idea, I’m happy to spend a bit more on something special – a decent Martini, a whisky that would usually be a few quid out of my price range. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to stretch to glasses of Champagne. Not unless I’ve got a handbag full of antacids – a familiar accessory among people on the jabs.

After the meds

After gaining weight due to a sudden illness, I didn’t feel like myself. Losing a few kilos has changed that, and it’s made me more comfortable in my own skin and therefore happier to go out and celebrate that.

The question is what happens when the medication stops? Will it be like the end of Dry January, when, for some, restraint snaps back into excess? Will I celebrate the return of ‘food noise’ with a tasting menu, a KFC bucket, six pints and a magnum of Champagne? I exaggerate, but you get the idea.

The hope is that a prolonged period of eating and drinking more mindfully will reset habits for good. That my stomach adapts, and that better choices – increasingly available both in supermarkets and in hospitality – continue to feel normal to me.
But the science is sobering. Research published in the British Medical Journal at the start of 2026 suggests stopping weight-loss medication is “followed by rapid weight regain and reversal of beneficial effects on cardiometabolic markers”. Short-term use without a broader approach to weight management, the paper warns, should be treated with caution.

This is a fast-moving space, and a broader solution may not be far off in the UK. In early January, Wegovy launched in pill form in the US, promising to help people “lose weight and keep it off”. Easier to use and slightly cheaper than injections, it could offer a more viable long-term option. For the drinks industry, prolonged GLP-1 use may accelerate what was already happening. IWSR data from December shows alcohol consumption at record lows, driven not by abstention, but by moderation. Less volume, higher expectations. Fewer drinks, but better ones.