Why We're Here

If you’re a local to Glen Cove – Many of you know me from various organizations – Glen Cove Rotary during my stint as a member from 2014-2018, the Glen Cove 350 committee, the Glen Cove Chamber of Commerce, the North Shore Biz Network which I helped run from 2020-2022, and the Gold Coast Business Association. You may have seen me on stage with St. Paul’s Centerstage or the North Shore Village Theatre, at the Glen Cove Downtown BID tree lighting, or at Glen Cove’s Got Talent. Or you may have run into me working on a campaign for the Democratic candidates in Glen Cove for mayor and city council, or for Anna Kaplan or Tom Suozzi. You may even know me from church, at St. Mary’s in Roslyn Harbor, where I work as a song leader and am a member of the choir. You probably know my parents and my husband. Or you may know me as the “Save the View Girl.” 

But I’m not writing to talk about any of those resume items. I’m writing to talk about something I don’t usually talk about publicly: the disease of obesity. A disease I’ve struggled with for my entire life. A struggle I’ve kept very close to my vest, but not anymore. Notice the use of the word “disease,” but more on that later. 

I’ve been lucky that I live in a largely welcoming and accepting community like Glen Cove. I shouldn’t be lucky. Every overweight and obese person deserves a seat at the table. A place in community organizations. A role in a musical. We should be recognized for our achievements rather than our appearance, and in our community, I have been. There’s no asterisk for “FAT” next to my name on the plaque at Glen Cove City Hall recognizing the work of the Glen Cove 350 committee. I feel respected, included, and by some, even loved. That should be the norm. For most overweight and obese people, it isn’t. I have also never felt anything but love at any size from my husband, who constantly assures me that he only wants me to be healthy. As an obese person, the love, acceptance, and respect I feel is a privilege. 

Due to societal pressures as well as pre-emptive strikes against potential health concerns, I have attempted many tried and true stand-bys to lose weight since I was 12 years old and 150 pounds – when I went on Weight Watchers for the first time. I don’t need to bore anyone with the details of my diet and exercise resume since then, but rest assured, it’s lengthy. The common denominator in all of the line items is that none of them led to long-term success. I always ended up weighing more than I did before I started the plan du jour. I have benign ovarian cysts which are a symptom of Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS), and PCOS is notorious for insulin resistance (translation: it’s harder for us to lose weight than it is for someone without PCOS). But PCOS or not, I’ve always had this primal feeling of not being able to stop eating. 

My doctors have expressed concern for my morbid obesity over recent years, particularly at the start of the COVID pandemic when my cholesterol numbers hit over 200. Deadly, no. But not healthy. So, I made a fresh attempt, with a little bit of success. However, after my beloved grandmother passed away in 2021, exactly one week after my now-husband proposed to me, I mostly gave up on my health. I did not think that I’d ever be able to fight the compulsions and emotions that kept driving me to overeat, and make mostly poor nutritional choices. I’ve heard the catch phrase “listen to your body,” but the food noise in my brain was so loud at that point that I couldn’t hear my body screaming out for help. Food noise – more on that later too. 

The stress of planning a large wedding coupled with grieving a monumental loss, and my usual determination to keep my emotional vulnerability a secret from my public life, all led me to lean on the one thing that was always there whenever I needed it: food. I went into my final fitting for my wedding dress feeling petrified that it wouldn’t fit. It fit, but we purposely purchased a dress three sizes above my regular dress size. Eventually, my knees and back ached daily. My snoring woke my husband up. Taking antacids to stop acid reflux symptoms became a nightly ritual. My cholesterol continued to spike. My A1C reached pre-diabetic status. 

In March of 2024, my parents watched Oprah’s special titled “Shame, Blame, and the Weight Loss Revolution.” They came to me the next day to tell me that they had been wrong about my “weight struggles.” It was never about will power. I had a scientifically- proven illness that made it impossible for me to stop overeating or fight cravings without medical intervention. The shame surrounding how I thought I’d “made myself unhealthy,” a shame which I had always hidden from my public life, was proven a false narrative… by SCIENCE! And for all of the doubters, the NIH (yes, that NIH) declared obesity a disease as early as 1998!

To get back to food noise – if you’ve never experienced food noise, you might not understand how it feels to have it in your head, and that’s okay! Food noise can be part of the disease of obesity, and it certainly is for me. It involves obsessions and compulsions surrounding food, including, but not limited to: when will it be time to eat, will there be enough food there?, don’t eat ALL of that, you know you want the whole thing, and my personal favorite: you work so hard, you deserve this. My food noise became so loud inside my brain, to the point that food became my primary reward and focus. If I was too late for work to stop at the deli to get a sugary drink or a pastry on the way in, I would be figuring out which credit card to use for delivery before I even made it to the office. Having food noise in your brain is not the same as being what we’ve come to call a “foodie” (and I’m definitely a “foodie”). I was experiencing uncontrollable and insurmountable urges to overeat or satisfy a particular craving, by any means necessary, and especially in high-stress, emotional situations. I “deserved” it, after all. 

After the Oprah special aired, I did serious homework on GLP-1 medications (I’m sure you’ve seen the commercials for Ozempic). While they were initially approved for diabetes patients exclusively, GLP-1 medications are being used for treatment of obesity patients. My parents proposed the idea to me, and both my husband and my primary care doctor were on board. On May 19th, 2024, I started taking Wegovy, the “not for diabetics” version of Semaglutide, which is also the primary ingredient in Ozempic. 

My decision to start treatment with a GLP-1 medication has nothing to do with appearance. I will always stand by my belief that every person, whether overweight, underweight, or somewhere in between, deserves love, respect, and inclusion based on the old cliche: who they are on the inside. The body-positive movement has made tremendous strides in that department as far as Hollywood is concerned, but we’re not all there yet. If we had fully arrived where we should be, there wouldn’t be a nationwide shortage of GLP-1 medications – thanks to already-thin members of Hollywood purchasing the medication out-of-pocket for astronomical amounts of dollars, and taking it away from the people who need it for medical purposes. Said medical purposes are related not only to diabetes, but also to the disease of obesity. 

Appearance and body-positivity aside – for the first time in several years, I have hope for my health. As of this moment, I have lost 12 pounds in three weeks. But pounds lost is not the only relief here. GLP-1 medication is a tool that reduces the compulsions and food noise to the point that you’re able to make healthy decisions for you and your body. It also lets your brain know when you’re full sooner than it knew previously. It is not a “miracle drug” that allows you to lose weight without changing your lifestyle and food choices (both in terms of portions and nutrition). But, the food noise has reduced to the point where I can finally hear my body tell me when it’s full, and when I’m not making a food choice that will best fuel my body. I am able to love food without making it an obsession and my sole reward. My overall body inflammation has already turned a corner – shoes that didn’t fit weeks ago suddenly fit again. My anxiety has lessened. And my nightly Pepcid ritual no longer exists. 

I have a long way to go, and I am still learning a lot about “the process.” I am figuring out what works for me and what doesn’t. But for the first time, I’m confident that I’ll get to the destination. I no longer have doubt that one meal, one birthday party, one buffet, will be my undoing. I will have a quality of life that I haven’t experienced in several years. I am already feeling mental freedom that I didn’t think would ever be possible for me. GLP-1 medication has already changed my life by allowing me to make necessary changes to benefit my physical health. It has also allowed my mental health to be far less burdened by food noise. The feelings that I could never talk about of “gloom and doom,” as though I’m on “borrowed time,” have all but evaporated into metaphorical thin air. I feel lighter – pun intended. I’ll be able to continue to utilize my gifts and talents in our Glen Cove community for many, many more years. 

But my next mission, which starts with this piece, is to educate communities about the disease of obesity and food noise. I can speak from my experience but also from the articles, social media videos, and two television specials I’ve watched about obesity, GLP-1 medications, and other medical weight loss interventions including bariatric surgery. I finally feel like I can speak on this topic without embarrassment. If sharing my obsessions and compulsions surrounding food prior to starting treatment with GLP-1 medication can help even one person feel less alone in the struggle, I will consider my work a success. 

If you face food noise on a daily, weekly, or even occasional basis, or you struggle with the disease of obesity – it’s not your fault. Release your shame. Freedom is possible. And know I’m rooting for you. No matter your size, you deserve a seat at the table.