Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess, blessed by the goddesses themselves with youth and beauty. She was beloved by all in her kingdom. One day, the princess’s wicked stepmother—once celebrated as the fairest of them all—grew jealous of the princess’s beauty So, in her desperation, she went into the woods to seek the help of the old witch. The witch gave her a potion and the label read: Ozempic. The queen, unsure of what the potion might do, believed it to be the answer to her problems. With the potion in hand, the queen hurried back to the castle, eager to regain her former beauty. She was shocked to find the princess—at her very young age—booking an appointment to get premature Botox. They both looked at each other, then at the old, fat king sleeping on the throne, clutching a chicken wing. After that they went and got martinis with the witch. The End. 

Sometimes, as I wander through the woods, I like to imagine myself as the maiden—unaware of the passing time, revelling in the prime of my youth that I have come to embrace. The awkward braces and the ‘baby fat’ that once plagued my adolescence had given way to something stronger, more enduring, and more powerful than any man’s weapon. Yet, as a maiden, that’s all I possess for now—flowers in my hair and pockets, a little lost in the beautiful haze of my own existence. 

I watch the mothers and the witches with awe. Now, that’s true power—possessing wealth, knowing exactly who you are, and where you’re headed. I believe my mother and my late grandmother are the most beautiful women in the world. But even the most grounded among us can feel the weight of today’s beauty standards. The truth is, if they had the chance to  reclaim the “substance” of their youth, they would.

Ozempic is the modern witch’s “The Substance.” Elisabeth Sparkle, a once-celebrated but now-faded Hollywood star, is abruptly fired from her long-running aerobics TV show by the producer, Harvey, who deems her “too old.” Devastated, she crashes her car while distracted by a billboard of herself being taken down. At the hospital, a young nurse covertly hands her a flash drive promoting “The Substance;” a black-market serum promising to make her “younger, more beautiful, more perfect.”

Elisabeth becomes addicted to using “The Substance,” driven by her desperation to reclaim her youthful appearance. Initially, the serum works its magic: her skin tightens, her figure slims, and she feels reinvigorated. In this stage, she embodies the maiden archetype—youthful, radiant, and irresistibly alluring. However, the more she uses “The Substance,” the more her dependance on it grows, losing herself in a cycle of self-obsession and denial of the inevitable aging process. Ultimately, the magic takes a dark turn. In her final, most horrific form, Elisabeth becomes the witch—a monstrous, grotesque parody of the beauty she once sought to preserve.

The storyline of Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance mirrors the growing trend of ‘miracle drugs’ like Ozempic, increasingly used for appetite suppression in pursuit of idealized beauty standards. While Ozempic has gained popularity for its weight-loss benefits, Elisabeth’s descent into obsession highlights the potential dangers of using such substances for superficial reasons, especially when the side effects are ignored in the quest for perfection. 

Image Courtesy of Mubi

Why do the thin and beautiful want to be even more so? The desire to remain skinny, youthful, and beautiful often outweighs the risks, with some willing to pay any cost—physical, emotional, or financial—to achieve an unattainable ideal. Elisabeth’s transformation serves as a warning: when the pursuit of perfection overtakes self-care, the consequences can be devastating.

The Substance, like most fairy tales, serves as a warning, a lesson, and a reflection of the world we live in today. The truth is simple: we age—regardless of gender. We gain weight, we lose weight. We can wear makeup, dress up, or not bother at all. And as much as we might want to present ourselves as ageless goddesses, we aren’t. We are as old as time itself—ever-changing, fluid, and infinitely more magical than any static ideal. 

If aging men can look like melting wax, why can’t women? Why can’t we embrace the natural stages of life—the Maiden, the Mother, and the Witch? Why can’t we simply exist, as we are, without apology? Live and let live. Enjoy the journey freely. Trends will come and go, but the most outrageous thing you can be is unapologetically yourself.