We’d barely been in the club an hour before I turned to my husband and said ‘I’m sorry, I’m going to head back to the hotel. I really don’t feel great.’ He looked as disappointed as I felt.

There we were, in Ibiza, on a child-free mini-break, looking to recapture those heady days when we first met, when we’d drink ’til late, and go clubbing ’til dawn, but it all just seemed hollow. That desire for hedonism had just gone. All the things I used to love made me feel . . . nothing.

Only when I read Dr Max’s column last week did I realise what was behind it all. Ozempic, the weight-loss drug I’d been taking for the previous five months had not only helped me shed pounds, but had impacted the pleasure I got from other things. Like Dr Pemberton, Ozempic had dramatically affected my relationship with alcohol as well as food.

From the moment I started taking it last summer, I pretty much stopped drinking. And as a forty-something who still had a bit of a reputation as a party girl, the impact on my life was huge.

The decision to take Ozempic — prescribed to treat type 2 diabetes — was not one I took lightly. (A different brand, Wegovy, is now prescribed on the NHS to treat weight loss.)

After reading Dr Max Pemberton’s column last week, the writer understood that Ozempic had affected her relationship with alcohol

I was 42 and had had a baby two years before. Despite eating healthily and keeping fit (I had a personal trainer, had run a marathon and taken on various exercise challenges), the weight wasn’t coming off.

At 5ft 3in and more than 12 stone, I was classed as obese. I didn’t recognise myself.

I spoke to a couple of friends who were taking Ozempic and researched medical papers on it, before submitting my details and photographs to an online pharmacy which agreed I was a suitable candidate.

Soon after I started taking it last June, it changed my attitude to food. Not only does it dampen hunger pangs, but I found I didn’t fancy anything like I had. I used to think, ‘I really want a pizza.’ Or ‘I’d love a Pret sandwich.’ or have a hankering for a baked potato.

But there was none of that. It was a weird suppression of my desire for food.

It had the same effect when it came to alcohol. I work in digital marketing and do a fair amount of client entertainment. I love margaritas, espresso martinis, champagne . . . or did.

But after taking Ozempic, nothing tasted right. It was bitter, or acidic, and when I did drink, I didn’t get the buzz from booze that I had.

In the old days, if I was out with a client, we might have a few cocktails then share a couple of bottles of wine over dinner. If I was out with friends, we’d have champagne, or margaritas. At weekends, if I was going clubbing with my husband and friends, we’d have two or three gin and tonics before we left home and over the night, it wouldn’t be unusual for me to drink eight or nine vodka sodas.

But on Ozempic, I just went off alcohol entirely.

Most people knew I was on a health kick, even if I hadn’t told them I was on Ozempic, so it wasn’t hard to explain the change in my behaviour. And if anyone wondered where I’d found the willpower, they didn’t ask. I still went out with clients and friends, but I’d order one drink and nurse it all night with a bottle of sparkling water.

Of course dropping the booze undoubtedly helped with the weight loss, but I also experienced the other benefits of being sober. I was sleeping better (when not up for the little one), and being hangover-free improved my productivity and I was more able to cope with toddler tantrums.

While I’m not sure I’d have ditched alcohol without Ozempic, I couldn’t really complain about it.

That night in Ibiza surprised me though. I’d had some sangria earlier that evening and I think the unexpected sugar injection hit me hard. That’s the thing about Ozempic, I don’t know whether it’s physiological or psychological, but it makes you want to make healthier choices, live a healthier life.

And when you don’t, you really feel it.

Ozempic — prescribed to treat type 2 diabetes — can help people lose weight

The rest of the trip was the same. We had tickets to some of our favourite clubs, but my heart wasn’t in it. By 1am, without booze to keep me going, I just wasn’t interested in staying up. Neither did I want to fall into bed for the sort of action we’d enjoyed pre-baby, either.

Losing weight on Ozempic has made me much happier with my body — after eight months I’m now getting towards eight and half stone, my goal weight, so I’m more comfortable wandering around in my underwear, or being naked — but it hasn’t fired up our sex life.

To be fair, I’m not sure I can blame my low libido only on Ozempic. Having a toddler who doesn’t sleep plays havoc on that score, and my husband doesn’t have a particularly high sex drive, so often it was me who initiated things.

But recently he’s been the one suggesting an ‘early night’ and I’ve just gone along with it. There’s no doubt Ozempic has changed how I feel and respond to things that used to give me pleasure, but I’m starting to believe it’s affecting me in the bedroom, too.

If so, I hope I’ll regain my libido when I come off it. Once I reach my target weight I aim to maintain it without the jabs.

I feel like my brain has been reprogrammed when it comes to food. I can’t imagine going out and ordering a massive pizza, or craving something sweet like I used to. I’m not sure if the same is true for alcohol, but I know staying off the booze will help me stay slim.

Until I started taking Ozempic and stopped drinking, I hadn’t considered that on a big night out, I knock back 3,000 calories in drinks alone. And morning workouts — and wake-ups — are far nicer when you’re not working through a hangover.

I’d like to think the new sober me is here to stay. But it remains to be seen if Ozempic has temporarily tamed the party girl in me, or has banished her for ever.