Two months ago, an unremarkable-looking jiffy envelope plopped through my letterbox. With my heart racing, I snatched it off the floor and stashed it secretly away, I wanted to be alone in the house to open what I knew was inside.
Looking back, it’s hardly surprising I felt the need to be so furtive. This was my first delivery of retatrutide – or ‘reta’ as it’s more commonly known – the triple-action peptide drug that’s been hailed the Godzilla of all fat jabs.
And as I pulled out a baffling array of contents with hands trembling, I was feeling totally out of
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