Lottie Moss had to go to the hospital after taking too much Ozempic, which a friend had obtained from a doctor without a prescription.
The 26-year-old model became very ill, having a seizure and severe dehydration, even though she weighed about 60kg (9 stone). She said she would rather “die” than use Ozempic again. The drug is intended for people with obesity or diabetes and is currently in short supply worldwide.
Lottie Moss’s sister is Kate Moss, a famous supermodel known for her slim figure in the 1990s and her famous quote, “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.”
Lottie described her seizure, which happened because of severe dehydration, as one of the scariest things she’s ever experienced. She said her face and hands clenching up was terrifying.
She mentioned that she wished she had known more before using Ozempic, and her weight dropped to around 53kg in a few weeks. After seeing doctors, she learned that the dosage she was using was meant for someone weighing at least 100 kilos, which is almost double her weight.
Lottie Moss has admitted to taking Ozempic and says she would rather ‘die’ than use it again
Lottie Moss explained that a few months ago, she wasn’t happy with her weight and had a friend who could get her Ozempic, but not through a proper medical channel. She didn’t go to a doctor for a proper prescription, check-ups, or tests, which are necessary when using a medication like Ozempic.
She said, “It’s a medication, and it’s dangerous. It’s meant for people with much larger body sizes. The dose I was using was for people who weigh 100 kilos or more, while I was in the 50s range.”
Lottie wished she had known more before taking it and now regrets her decision. She injected it into her leg and said it was the worst choice she ever made.
She shared a warning to others, saying, “If you’re thinking about taking it, don’t. It’s not worth it.”
On her podcast, Dream On, Lottie described the severe side effects she experienced, such as vomiting, a loss of color in her face, and a dramatic drop in weight. Before taking Ozempic, she weighed around 60 kilos, dropped to 57 kilos after the first dose, and reached a low of 53 kilos, which is just over eight stone.
Lottie Moss said she would rather not take Ozempic again, as it made her feel extremely nauseous.
She used it for two weeks, taking injections with a pen. Each week she had to take a new dose, and she felt sicker than she ever had before. She started with a lower dose but moved to a higher one, and ended up being bedridden for two days because she felt so ill and lost weight rapidly.
She began at about 60 kilos and dropped to 57 with the first dose, then to 54, and her lowest weight was 53 kilos. She described this rapid weight loss as unhealthy.
During those two days in bed, she wanted to stop taking the medication, but since it’s not like a pill you can just skip, it was already in her system and hard to stop. She even told her friend she couldn’t keep any food or water down and needed to go to the hospital because she felt so sick.
After being rushed to the emergency room, Lottie had a seizure because of severe dehydration. She described the experience as “horrible,” with her close friend having to hold her feet down while she contorted on the hospital floor.
Lottie, known from Celebs Go Dating, said the nurse was shocked when she learned the high dose of Ozempic Lottie had been taking and how much weight she had lost in just a short time.
She explained, “We went to the ER at 3 a.m., and when we told the nurse about the dose I was taking, she was horrified and said it was far too much. She also asked about my weight loss, and when I told her, she sent me straight to the emergency room, where I was wheeled through the hospital.”
Lottie added that she felt extremely sick and almost passed out when she went to the bathroom. Once she was in the examination room, she had a seizure due to dehydration, which she described as one of the scariest experiences of her life. Her friend Reece had to hold her feet down, and she felt her body and hands clenching up uncontrollably, making the situation terrifying and painful.
Lottie has talked before about how difficult it was growing up in the “toxic” fashion industry and her time in rehab for drug addiction.
She started modeling at 16 after being discovered when she was 13. She said she always felt like she was living in the shadow of her sister, Kate.
Lottie Moss has shared that she faced harsh criticism for eating on set during fashion shoots and was told by her modeling agency that she needed a 23-inch waist to walk in runway shows. She was traumatized by comments about her body and being called names like “the ham and cheese sandwich girl.” She feels lucky not to have developed an eating disorder.
Kate Moss, Lottie’s sister, was known in the 90s for the “heroin chic” look, which emphasized being extremely thin. She now regrets the phrase “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels,” and has talked about the negative comments she received from parents about their daughters having eating disorders.
Lottie believes that with the rise of Ozempic, a drug popularized by celebrities for weight loss, the harmful “heroin chic” trend is making a troubling comeback. She wants to use her experience to warn others, saying that Ozempic is meant for diabetes, not weight loss.
Lottie expressed concern that the media’s focus on extreme weight loss is harmful, especially for people with eating disorders or those struggling with their weight. She noted that the body positivity movement, which celebrated diverse body types and curvier figures, seems to be disappearing in favor of the old “heroin chic” trend. She encourages everyone to appreciate their body as it is and avoid extreme measures that could harm their health.
My Wife of 10 Years Left Me with Two Young Kids for a Wealthy Guy — 2 Years Later I Met Her Again and It Was Truly Poetic
Miranda traded her family for a “better life” with a wealthy man, leaving her husband Charlie with two little kids and a broken heart. Two years later, when Charlie met her again by chance, the moment couldn’t have been more poetic… one that made him believe in karma.
You never think the person you’ve shared a decade with will become a stranger. My wife Miranda and I had been together for ten years. We had two wonderful daughters: Sophie (5) and Emily (4). Life wasn’t perfect, but it was ours, and I thought it was stable.
A happy family | Source: Pexels
I earned enough to keep us comfortable — not luxurious, but we managed family vacations twice a year. The girls had a part-time nanny while Miranda worked as a freelancer from home. I always did my part, too. I cleaned every week, handled grocery runs, and even cooked meals. I never wanted her to feel like the housework was all on her shoulders.
But somewhere along the way, things shifted. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first — little things, like her spending hours on her phone and texting late into the night while her face glowed in the dark.
“Who are you talking to?” I casually asked once.
“Friends,” she said, too quickly. “Just catching up.”
A woman holding a cellphone | Source: Pexels
Her social media accounts became busier, too. New photos would pop up almost daily — her smiling at a coffee shop, shopping bags in hand, and posing with friends I didn’t recognize.
Yet, at home, her face was always tired and distant. She spent less and less time with Sophie and Emily, brushing them off when they asked her to help with homework or play their little games.
“Not now, sweetie,” she’d say without looking up, scrolling on her phone.
The spark between us faded, too. The late-night talks, the easy laughter… we lost it. She started going out more, claiming it was for “shopping” or “clearing her head,” but she’d come back looking lighter and smiling in ways I hadn’t seen in months.
A woman holding shopping bags | Source: Pexels
At dinner, she’d pick at her food, her mind clearly somewhere else. I tried to pull her back into the life we’d built together, but it felt like grabbing onto smoke.
Then, one afternoon, she looked me dead in the eye, wiped her hands on a dish towel, and said the words that shattered everything I thought we’d built.
“I’m leaving, Charlie.”
I paused mid-step, blinking like I hadn’t heard her right. “Leaving? What are you talking about?”
An arrogant woman | Source: Midjourney
She didn’t flinch. “I can’t live this life anymore. I’ve found myself… and I know what I want. I’m not meant to be stuck here cooking and cleaning after you.”
I searched her face for a crack, some sign that she was joking. “Miranda… we have two kids.”
Her voice sharpened. “You’ll manage. You’re a great dad. Better than I’ve ever been as a mom.”
“What about Sophie and Emily? They’re just babies, Miranda!” My voice cracked as tears gushed from my eyes. But I didn’t care. Who said men can’t cry? The last time I cried was a moment of pure joy, holding my youngest newborn daughter in my arms. But this… this was different. And painful.
A heartbroken man | Source: Midjourney
She sighed. She seemed bored. It was like this was a conversation she’d been forced to repeat. “I need freedom, Charlie. I need to be happy. I can’t do this anymore.”
“And what about us? The life we built together… doesn’t that matter?”
“It’s not enough for me anymore,” she declared, grabbing her suitcase and storming out the door, slamming it shut on our lives that day.
It’s hard to explain how cold the room felt after she left. The empty silence screamed louder than any shouting match ever could.
A woman with a suitcase | Source: Pexels
That night, Sophie, my oldest, tugged at my sleeve while I sat on the couch, frozen. “Daddy, is Mommy mad at us? Is she coming back?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. How do you explain to a five-year-old that their mother chose to walk away?
The next few weeks were brutal. I couldn’t eat. Or sleep. The hardest part wasn’t Miranda’s absence — it was what she left behind. The kids. Their questions. Their innocent belief that “Mommy would come home soon.”
And then there were the texts and calls from my family. “What happened, Charlie? Is it true Miranda left? Why would she do this?” I didn’t know how to answer. I was ashamed… ashamed that I couldn’t hold my family together, ashamed that I had no explanation for why my wife had run away.
I started dodging calls, letting messages pile up unanswered. What could I even say? That I wasn’t good enough for her?
A distressed man | Source: Pixabay
I stumbled through, clinging to a routine like it was a lifeboat. Wake up, pack lunches, drop the girls off at daycare, work an exhausting shift, pick them up, make dinner, clean up, put them to bed… then collapse in a chair, staring at the empty space on the couch where Miranda used to sit.
And then I saw her on Instagram one day.
Miranda was glowing in some designer dress and sipping champagne on a yacht with some guy named Marco. He was a slick-looking man in a suit, his arm casually draped around her waist. She looked carefree. Almost like she didn’t leave two daughters and a broken family behind.
“Who is this Marco?” I muttered to myself, scrolling through photo after photo.
Trips to Paris. Five-star dinners. Sunset selfies on some white-sand beach.
A romantic couple on a yacht | Source: Pexels
The next day, Sophie held up a crayon drawing of our family — me, her, Emily… and a blank space. “That’s for Mommy,” she said quietly. “So she can come back when she’s ready.”
My heart broke into pieces and I didn’t know how to put it back together.
But I had to keep going. I worked harder, saved more, and spent every free moment with the girls. They needed me. I told myself I didn’t care what Miranda was doing anymore.
And for a while, that was true.
Two years later, I was a different man. Tired, sure… but solid. My daughters and I had built something. Pancake Saturdays. Dance parties in the living room. Quiet bedtime stories that always ended with, “We love you, Daddy.”
I didn’t think about Miranda anymore. Not until last month.
Two little girls hugging each other | Source: Pexels
It was an ordinary Wednesday. I was in the supermarket after work, grabbing groceries, when I saw her. At first, I wasn’t sure. Her hair was dull, her clothes wrinkled, and her face — God, her face looked tired. Pale. Hollow.
For a moment, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. This couldn’t be her. She’d probably be married now, living a lavish life, partying, shopping.
But it was HER. The woman who’d so easily abandoned the beautiful nest we’d built together.
“MIRANDA?” I said, stepping closer.
She froze, clutching a plastic bag of carrots like it was a shield. Her eyes darted to the side, like she was about to bolt.
“Miranda, it’s me… Charlie.”
She turned and walked away, faster and faster. I followed, confusion bubbling to the surface. “Hey, wait. What’s going on? Why are you running?”
Grayscale shot of a woman running away | Source: Pexels
She practically sprinted out of the store. I stood there in the middle of the cereal aisle, my heart pounding. What the hell had just happened?
That night, I called her old number on a whim. It rang three times, then stopped. I thought she wanted to avoid talking to me, but a text buzzed on my phone a minute later.
Miranda: “Fine. Let’s meet tomorrow. At the park. 6 p.m.”
I don’t know what I expected when I walked into the park the next evening. Maybe the woman I’d seen on Instagram — the one with bright eyes and designer clothes. But that’s not who I found sitting on the bench.
A sad woman with her eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney
Miranda looked… worn. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, and her shoulders sagged like they were carrying invisible bricks.
“Charlie,” she mumbled when I approached.
“You ran from me yesterday,” I said, sitting down on the opposite end of the bench. “Why? And… what happened to you.”
She exhaled sharply, staring at her hands. “Because I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
“Like what?”
Her voice cracked. “Like a failure.”
A man looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
I blinked. “What happened to you, Miranda? What happened to Marco? The yachts? The perfect life you threw us away for?”
Her lip trembled, and tears started spilling down her cheeks. “He was a fraud, Charlie. He wasn’t some wealthy businessman. He was a con artist. He drained my savings, spent my inheritance from Grandma, and when the money was gone, he left. I’m broke. I have nothing.”
I sat back, stunned. “Are you serious?”
She nodded, wiping her face with her sleeve. “I thought he loved me. I thought I’d finally found happiness. But it was all a lie.”
“Yeah, well,” I said, my voice hardening, “you destroyed your family chasing that lie.”
“I know,” she whispered. “And I regret it every day.”
“Didn’t you feel even a bit guilty for what you did, Miranda?”
She wiped her tears and whispered, “I didn’t want you to see me like this, Charlie. I was going to come back — after I got a job and looked… respectable enough to face you and the girls. I want to get back to my kids. I want to fix this, Charlie.”
A heartbroken woman | Source: Midjourney
I stared at her in silence. Two emotions battled in my heart: anger and pity. She had left us in our darkest moment, but now she stood before me, broken and humiliated.
I wanted to scream at her, “Why wasn’t our family enough? Why did you trade your children for a fantasy?” But instead, a quiet thought wormed its way into my mind: “Am I being too cruel?”
I thought about the nights I’d cried silently after putting the girls to bed, about the endless days I spent picking up pieces she left behind. I thought about how Sophie still asked about her sometimes, her voice soft and unsure, “Do you think Mommy misses us, Daddy?”
And yet here she was — this woman who had wrecked our lives — asking to walk back in like none of it ever happened.
A man lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney
A voice inside me whispered, “Maybe she’s suffered enough. Maybe you should give her a chance.”
But then I remembered Emily’s tiny arms wrapping around my neck, her giggle as I chased her around the house. I remembered Sophie’s pride when I showed up to her school recital, her little face beaming because “Daddy was always there.”
I turned to Miranda, anger boiling in my chest. “Fix this? Do you think you can just waltz back in like nothing happened?”
“Please, Charlie, please. Just give me one chance —”
“No,” I said firmly. “You can’t see the girls. Not after you abandoned them like that. I don’t know how you can even call yourself a mother after trading your own children for money and a fantasy. They deserve better, and so do I.”
An emotional woman | Source: Midjourney
Tears streamed down her face, but I didn’t care. “They’re happy, Miranda. They’ve moved on. And so have I.”
I stood up, looking down at her one last time. “I hope you figure out how to fix your life. But you won’t do it at our expense. Goodbye, Miranda.”
When I got home, the girls ran to meet me at the door. Sophie grabbed my hand. “Daddy, can we make pancakes?”
I smiled and knelt down to hug her. “Of course we can, princess.”
Emily tugged at my shirt. “Can we put sprinkles on them?”
“You got it, sweetheart.”
As I stood in the kitchen, the smell of batter filling the air, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time: peace.
A man in the kitchen | Source: Unsplash
Miranda’s choices had been hers to make, and now she had to live with them. I had made mine, too. And I had no regrets.
Sophie and Emily giggled as they dumped way too many sprinkles on their pancakes, and I realized the truth: everything I needed was right here.
“Daddy, these are the best pancakes ever!” Sophie declared through a mouthful of syrup.
I laughed, ruffling her hair. “I think so too, sweetie.”
Miranda thought freedom was leaving us behind, but she didn’t know what real happiness looked like. I did. And that? That felt pretty damn poetic.
A guilty woman | Source: Pexels
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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