Lizzo’s dramatic weight loss, explained

Lizzo has earned her place as one of the best pop stars of our time. She made history by becoming the first African American woman to win the Grammy for Record of the Year since Whitney Houston. She also holds the record for the longest-running solo song by a female rapper with her hit song “Truth Hurts,” which topped the charts in 2016.

Even with all her achievements, Lizzo’s appearance has frequently been a big topic of discussion. She has received both praise and criticism for promoting body positivity. Recently, her weight loss has sparked more controversy. Here’s what you should know about Lizzo’s weight loss and how she has responded to her critics.

Is Lizzo taking Ozempic?

Lizzo has been sharing her weight loss journey on Instagram. However, some people have accused her of using the weight loss medication Ozempic to help her lose weight quickly.

On September 22, Lizzo used Instagram to respond to rumors about her using Ozempic. She shared a screenshot of a comment that suggested she was relying on outside help to lose weight, asking, “Did she use Ozempic or did she snort coke?” In reply, Lizzo wrote, “Whyyyy do u follow me?”

She denied taking Ozempic and told her fans that her weight loss comes from a dedicated workout routine. In a sarcastic tone, she posted a video saying, “When you finally get Ozempic allegations after 5 months of weight training and calorie deficit.”

Did Lizzo get weight loss surgery?

Photo by Bryan Bedder/Getty Images for American Express

Weight loss surgery has also been a topic of conversation regarding Lizzo’s transformation. Many fans are surprised by the big changes in her appearance over the past five months and wonder if she might have had surgery to achieve these results.

Lizzo has denied using surgery or other drastic measures to lose weight, saying she loves her body no matter what size she is. She shared a video on Instagram showing her weight loss journey, with the caption: “Fine both ways.”

Even though some have accused her of body shaming her backup dancers and others privately, Lizzo has kept a positive attitude. She may have lost weight, but she still supports body positivity.

I Allowed a Homeless Woman to Stay in My Garage—One Day I Walked in Unannounced and Was Shocked by What I Saw

I tapped the steering wheel, trying to shake the weight on my chest, when I spotted a disheveled woman digging through a trash can. I slowed down, drawn in by her grim determination.

She looked fragile yet fierce, fighting for survival. Without thinking, I pulled over, rolled down my window, and asked, “Do you need help?”

Her response was sharp but tired: “You offering?”

“I just saw you there,” I admitted, stepping out. “It didn’t seem right.”

“What’s not right is life,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “You don’t strike me as someone who knows much about that.”

“Maybe not,” I replied, then asked if she had a place to stay.

“No,” she said, and I felt compelled to offer my garage as a temporary home. To my surprise, she accepted, albeit reluctantly.

Over the next few days, we shared meals and conversations. Lexi’s sharp wit broke through my loneliness, but I could sense her hidden pain.

One afternoon, I barged into the garage and froze. There, sprawled across the floor, were grotesque paintings of me—chains, blood, a casket. Nausea hit me.

That night, I confronted her. “What are those paintings?”

Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see them. I was just… angry.”

“So you painted me as a monster?” I demanded.

She nodded, shame in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

I struggled to forgive her. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

The next morning, I helped her pack and drove her to a shelter, giving her some money. Weeks passed, and I felt the loss of our connection.

Then, a package arrived—another painting. This one was serene, capturing a peace I hadn’t known. Inside was a note with Lexi’s name and number.

My heart raced as I called her. “I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”

“Thank you. I didn’t know if you’d like it,” she replied.

“You didn’t owe me anything,” I said, reflecting on my own unfairness.

“I’m sorry for what I painted,” she admitted. “You were just… there.”

“I forgave you the moment I saw that painting. Maybe we could start over.”

“I’d like that,” she said, a smile evident in her voice.

We made plans to meet again, and I felt a flicker of hope for what could be.

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