FLORENCE GREEN: Call me Scrooge, but I won’t give up my costly weight loss jabs to buy gifts this Christmas

Prowling around a charity shop, I pounce upon my latest find like a cat on a mouse.

It’s a glossy art book which is still (hallellujah!) in its cellophane wrapping. I hand over a paltry $5.97 with an air of smugness I can’t quite conceal.

But the book isn’t for me — it’s ­destined for the present drawer in the spare room.

This already contains a scarf I was given years ago and never wore. There’s also a perfume bottle that came in a Beauty Box I ­subscribe to, a piece of ‘antique’ china from another charity shop, a discontinued candle picked up for a song at a discount warehouse, and a leather purse I bought for myself and didn’t use.

These, along with some shortbread I’m planning to make (wish me luck, I’m not a great baker), are all­ earmarked as Christmas gifts for my friends and family.

I’m not being frugal because I’m struggling with the cost of living. In fact, I’m looking forward to sashaying into my office Christmas party in a lacy frock, silver platform sandals and matching bag.

The real reason for my cheapskate Christmas? Weight-loss jabs.

Just a few months ago, I was technically obese, bursting out of a size 14 and feeling thoroughly miserable about the party season. Now, I’m over 2 stone down and a size ten, thanks to Mounjaro.

Like anyone you know who has suddenly shed a substantial amount of weight, I’m on the magic potion that nixes appetite and has allowed me to achieve near-effortless weight loss.

But my svelte new body has come at a cost, and I don’t mean the digestive upsets that still send me rushing for the loo. Each little pen of Mounjaro costs $400 from an online pharmacy and lasts four weeks.

By the time I sit down at the festive table to pick at my turkey and turn down my pudding, I will have invested £1,000 in my looks. Plus, I’ve been unable to resist clicking ‘add to basket’ for a whole new, smaller, wardrobe.

What’s more, I have no intention of stopping the jabs and risking the pounds piling back on in January, so my habit will remain a drain on my finances for the foreseeable future.

This leaves me with a ­problem. I’m not a wealthy woman and, like me, my bank balance is looking distinctly leaner this year. Which means I’m going to have to cut some Christmas corners, starting with present buying. I think we women too often put ourselves last when it comes to Christmas, so this year it’s all about me. That means I must be canny in my purchasing.

My four closest friends love buying presents for birthdays and Christmas. Every year we go out for dinner and exchange gifts.

We are all ­usually pretty generous. They know my favourite perfume and my tastes in jewellery, posh candles and books - but they don’t know I’m on Mounjaro.

They are puzzlingly judgmental about injections so I have let them believe my weight loss is down to a low-carb diet and exercise.

I considered suggesting a $20 secret Santa this year but, by the time I’d thought of it, everyone else was already planning their present swap and a meal followed by drinks.

I have ducked out of the meal — too expensive and I don’t have any appetite — but said I’ll join them for cocktails and gifts.

With such a hole in my finances, I’m planning my gifts carefully to ensure I can afford my real priority — ­staying slim. I’ve checked over everything from the charity shop for signs of wear.

I found a pair of ‘vintage’ diamante drop earrings for $2 and popped them in a cute $4 jewellery box ordered online from China which looks convincingly expensive. In fact, I’ve spent more on ribbon than gifts this year, as fancy wrapping makes everything look so much better.

My family is trickier. My husband has been asking me what I want. The honest answer is three months’ supply of Mounjaro but, like my friends, he has no idea I’m on it.

So, instead I’ve asked for a designer bag and a cashmere sweater. I know he will expect something pricey in return, but I’ve picked a bargain ­second-hand designer jacket on Vinted for just $30. Not only does it look good, but I will tell him that by buying vintage I’m saving the planet.

My father will receive a bottle of gin I won in a raffle, and my mother a bowl of spring bulbs I’m trying to grow. If that project fails — which looks likely — I’ll dash to Aldi for flowers and chocs.

There are still a few people on my list. Time for another trip to the charity shop. Just as soon as I’ve done my jab.

Florence Green is a pseudonym.

© Daily Mail