There was a time, not so long ago, when being thin was a secret code. It whispered of expensive doctors, private prescriptions, and the sheer, disciplined willpower of the ultra-wealthy. But the gates of the temple have been kicked in. Dr. Reddy’s Laboratories has announced 'Olymra,' the first Indian generic of semaglutide. For a measly fifteen dollars a month, the unwashed masses in the Global South can now achieve the same sunken-cheeked chic as a Mayfair heiress. It is a social disaster of the highest order.

Novo Nordisk is frantically launching higher-dose 'premium' variants to protect the VIP market, but the damage is done. When everyone is thin, nobody is special. The Delhi High Court had to step in just to change the name from 'Olymviq'—apparently, the brand was causing 'confusion.' The only confusion here is how anyone is supposed to tell the billionaires from the bus drivers at the airport anymore. We are looking at a metabolic equity crisis that threatens the very foundations of status.

If thinness is no longer a luxury, what is left? Perhaps we must go back to the 19th century and embrace a delicate, aristocratic pallor. Or perhaps the only real status symbol left is a body that hasn't been touched by a generic needle. The dinner party circuit is in a state of absolute mourning. The Wegovy set is looking for a new obsession, but for now, they are forced to share their secret weapon with the commoners. It is, quite frankly, the death of mystery.