How to be ‘worth it’ in the GLP-1 age

For most of the past century, packaged food relied on a dependable human reflex: people wanted things they hadn’t decided to want. The cold can after a long afternoon. The biscuit while the kettle boils. The family-size bag finished without anyone noticing. Whole categories were built around these automatic reaches.

GLP-1 medications are switching that reflex off. They reduce hunger and weaken the motivation to pursue rewarding food and drink. Users say the food noise goes quiet: not because they deliberately reject a brand, but because whole occasions disappear.

This is the most important change in consumer demand in a generation. And yet, much of the industry is still framing GLP-1s as a portion-size problem.

In January, Kim Severson asked in The New York Times whether America was “breaking up with the calorie.” Once the dominant measure of nutrition and weight control, its influence is fading. WeightWatchers, the champion of calorie counting, filed for bankruptcy in 2025 and now dispenses Wegovy.

For decades, the industry answered health through subtraction: fewer calories, less sugar, smaller packs. But that assumed people would always reach. Once appetite weakens, a low-calorie proposition has less work to do. A 100-calorie pack answers a craving; it means little to someone who no longer craves - and too little to someone seeking better health, not simply fewer calories.

It seems that the markets have reached this conclusion faster than many marketing departments. In June, Bernstein downgraded Kraft Heinz, General Mills, Campbell’s and Conagra, citing GLP-1 adoption of 15% among American adults, up from 5.8% in early 2024, alongside regulatory pressure and changing tastes.

Packaged food stocks have trailed the drug makers: Eli Lilly rose about 74% in a year while several food companies fell, and sector sales have turned negative for a second year. The Wall Street Journal concluded that Big Food is “running out of moves with shoppers and investors.”

The exposure may be larger than the patient base. In a Boston Consulting Group survey of more than 1,500 GLP-1 users across nine markets, 70% said the changes reached their wider household. BCG estimates the ‘GLP-1 affected’ market is about 50% larger than the user population. Oral versions, lower prices and longer treatment could widen it further.

The investor debate has mostly missed a second shift. GLP-1s change what people want, and they also change what food and drink taste like.

MMR’s latest research across five key markets has found that three-quarters of GLP-1 users report at least one sensory change. Among those reporting taste changes, 56% in the United States and 45% in Britain said sweetness intensified. Bitterness and sweetener off-notes can stand out; rich textures become harder to tolerate; and nearly a quarter of British users find carbonation uncomfortable. A flavor that wins on the first sip can overwhelm by the tenth.

Together, these shocks unsettle both foundations of mass-market food: appetite can no longer be trusted to bring consumers in, nor one optimized taste to keep them.

The F&B industry has spent decades measuring liking. But now, someone can enjoy a drink without wanting to buy, finish or repeat it. GLP-1s expose the harder question now governing choice: is the experience worth it?

David Beck, a marketing director at Mars, said it plainly: a product "must be worth it to the consumer to spend the money. It must be worth the calories, and to have that experience." Here, the calorie gets its new job. It is no longer a number to minimize. It is a cost the product must justify.

Consumers are not abandoning pleasure; they are becoming choosier. What we’re learning is that those everyday ‘low-value pleasure’ items are not being consciously rejected – they’re simply not even registering.

Brands built on restraint are no safer. MMR’s research points to a broader ambition among GLP-1 users: to feel healthier, not merely lighter. Diet-coded promises therefore lose relevance. SlimFast’s shift from ‘help me lose weight’ to ‘help me get enough’ captures the change. Medication already helps people eat less; the opportunity is to help them feel nourished, capable and well.

So, what does a worth-it product look like? It depends on the category, but the options available to manufacturers are becoming clear.

1. Concentrated reward. Make serves smaller and more intense, not merely reduced: a complete experience with layered flavor and a clean finish.

2. Sensory precision. Restraint becomes an asset. Marks & Spencer’s Nutrient Dense Berry Bliss Bowl uses fruit acidity and texture to do the work sugar once did. It satisfies without overwhelming because it was designed that way - not because a label says so.

3. Texture as the new sweetness. If sugar reads louder, aeration, crispness and snap can carry pleasure without extra sweetness or bulk. Freeze-dried candy and Mars’s “intensely crunchy” Cheez-It point in this direction.

4. The tenth-sip standard. Judge the whole experience, not the first bite. Comfort, finish and the desire to return should be pass-or-fail measures.

5. Gentle tolerability. For many people, consumption now has to be managed. Softer carbonation, lighter flavor, rounded acidity and easy digestion meet a clear unmet need. That need extends well beyond people taking medication.

6. Believable function, never diet-coded. Offer benefits people can see and feel, supported by credible signals rather than claims that sound like every rival's. The aim is to help people feel nourished, not deprived.

7. Designed prompts and rituals. If appetite no longer creates the occasion, the product must supply a reason to choose it now. Bonbuz names its cans for moments rather than fruits. Espresso shows the power of ritual: the grind, aroma and pause make an intensely bitter drink meaningful. Ritual can compensate for weaker sensory pull while raising enjoyment and willingness to pay.

8. Support for the transition. The least-served consumer may be the one coming off the drug, when hunger can return faster than confidence. They aren't looking for restriction. They want reassurance and stability.

Beneath all eight sits a double test: is the product small and complete, ending before capacity does; and is it worth choosing even for people who have never taken a GLP-1? A product that passes both is built for where mainstream tastes are heading.

An industry built on volume can treat this as decline - or become more sophisticated: measuring worth, tolerability and repeatability alongside liking; building emotional meaning and ritual into product experiences; and designing the reason to choose as carefully as the product itself. Sensory appeal still matters, but it can no longer carry the whole experience.

Investors are pricing in decline. The companies that prove them wrong will stop asking how to preserve old volumes and start asking how to remain worth choosing when consumption is smaller, rarer and more intentional.

The automatic reach is fading. The question that matters now is whether a product is worth it. Get in touch with us to learn how you can create product experiences that are worth it to the consumer.