A.S.T. Tablets: “Ashamed to be seen in a bikini? A.S.T. Tablets – simply take three tablets daily. American Sliming Tablets – $1.35 for two weeks supply.”
Teradec/S: “Diet Discipline Tablets – containing phenylpropanolamine HCL (85 mg) and acetophenolisatin (2 mg) – quell those hunger pains.”
I’m sure the share analysts are at work right now. Belt manufacturers will be using less leather, so invest now.
What was in all this stuff? Often it was amphetamines. In the case of Teradec/S, the main ingredient of phenylpropanolamine HCL was banned in the US after the FDA estimated it was causing between 200 and 500 strokes a year.
Looking through the advertisements, a sadness seeps from the pages, especially when the advertiser promised a solution to a troubled marriage. Take this advertisement from the Australian Women’s Weekly of March 29, 1972: “Ford Pills can help make you as attractive as the girls your husband stares at in the street.” Then, in smaller print: “Looked at him lately? Not as a husband. But as a man. Looked at yourself? Not as a wife. But as his secretary. Don’t run away from what you see. Start fighting. Get a pack of Ford Pills…”
At the bottom, the slogan, again in bigger type: “Ford Pills: we’ll give you a second chance.”
They were a laxative. So perhaps a better slogan would have been: “Don’t run away from what you see. Start running for a toilet.”
Those behind the new generation of weight-loss drugs shrug off the problems of the past. The method, they say, is quite different. They’ve been used for years for type two diabetes. The results are amazing. Then again, as Johann Hari points out in his new and nicely balanced book, Magic Pill, the scientists don’t really know how they work. They seem to have an impact on the reward systems in the brain – the systems that make us want to eat, procreate and enjoy life. The drugs dial down your appetite for food, but might they also dial down your appetite for life?
Other problems crowd in, involving anything from a possible increased risk of thyroid cancer to what’s being called “Ozempic face”, a face that’s hollowed out and sagging. There has also been a warning this month in the UK from the National Health Service reporting life-threatening use by young women suffering from anorexia.
Perhaps Hari is right to sit on the fence. Like the diet drugs of the 1970s, problems may emerge over time. Then again, these new drugs could help millions of people escape the worst impacts of the industrialised food culture we’ve allowed the world of business to create.
Meanwhile, that same world of business doesn’t want to miss a trick. I’m sure the share analysts are at work right now. Belt manufacturers will be using less leather, so invest now. People won’t order that second round from Dunkin’ Donuts, so sell, sell, sell.
The rise of Ozempic could be a boon for IKEA.Credit: Ryan Stuart
Cinemas will be able to reduce the width of their seats. The Atlas lift company will be able to up the maximum number of people in any trip. And IKEA will be able to reduce the weight-bearing capacity of its beds.
Or, here’s a thought: perhaps we could instead dismantle the industrialised food culture that’s poisoned our diets, combining fat, sugar, salt and carbohydrates to produce products designed to turn off the body’s natural systems of hunger and satiety. We could also stop shaming and blaming people for a problem caused by the obesogenic environment into which they have been thrown.
But now, just as in the 1970s, there might not be much profit in that approach.
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