If this weight-loss drug saga keeps going, Netflix might as well get the cameras rolling (working title: Love and Other Weight-Loss Drugs). Because let’s just keep it 100… this is way more entertaining than a bunch of wannabe influencers throwing hands over a 30-year-old guy who still brags about his high school football stats.

Of course, the story started when demand for GLP-1s like Ozempic and Wegovy completely took over the world. Social media did what social media does… turned these injections into a cultural phenomenon. TikTok was flooded with before-and-after videos, celebrities who have been chubby for decades mysteriously looked slim, and suddenly once mainstream caught on that getting an injection was a lot easier than staying away from potato chips and working out (who knew?).

Naturally, Novo Nordisk (the Danish pharma biz raking in billions off these pens) couldn’t keep up. Pharmacies went dry, and the FDA had to put an official “shortage” label on semaglutide (sending Jonah Hill and Rebel Wilson back to salad season, kicking and screaming).

And as you can imagine, that’s when outsiders pounced. Telehealth startups and compounding pharmacies rushed in to fill the gap. Hims & Hers (better known for shipping hair-loss meds and ED pills to millennials who’d rather die than talk to their doctor) saw its shot. If Novo couldn’t supply everyone, Hims could play the “affordable front door” to the hottest drug on the planet. Novo even went along for a bit, giving Hims credibility and giving itself a new way to reach patients outside the old-school healthcare system.

But of course, the devil was in the details. Hims leaned heavily on compounded semaglutide… aka the knockoff version that’s only technically legal during shortages. Not FDA-approved, raises safety concerns, and (most importantly for Novo) makes it look like they lost control of their empire. Once the FDA declared the shortage was over, that loophole closed instantly.  By June, Novo finally had the perfect excuse to pull the plug. They blasted Hims for “illegal mass compounding,” trashed their shady marketing, and dumped in the trash.

(Source: NYSun)

And that’s when Hims’ whole growth story went up in smoke. Nearly half of their projected $725M in 2025 revenue was tied to GLP-1s. Without Novo’s blessing (and with regulators sniffing around) they went from disruptor to giant question mark overnight. Just pull up their stock chart and you’ll see it plain as day: the selloff kicked in right when the breakup headlines hit.

And based on today’s announcement, it’s pretty clear Novo already found its rebound fling. They’re teaming up with GoodRx to launch a $499/month cash plan for Wegovy and Ozempic across 70,000 pharmacies. Except this time there won’t be any shady loopholes, or insurance issues… all customers have to do is swipe their credit card.

And this one should last because this time they actually have control. The Hims setup had Novo looking like some sketchy knockoff brand at a flea market… built on compounded semaglutide that was only “legal” as long as the FDA looked the other way. That was never a business, it was a countdown clock.

GoodRx, though, is different. It’s clean, consumer-friendly, and it plays directly into Novo’s strengths. Novo sets the price. Novo owns the supply chain. Novo keeps its brand looking trustworthy, while GoodRx does what it does best: get people to pay cash for meds at scale. It’s the first time this whole GLP-1 rollout looks buttoned-up instead of a Walter White looking side hustle.

Wall Street clearly agrees… Novo popped 4%, GoodRx ripped 39%. And with 19M Americans still priced out by insurance, this $499 cash plan is the closest thing we’ve seen to Ozempic going mainstream.

At the time of publishing this article, Stocks.News holds positions in Netflix as mentioned in the article.