In the suburbs of Memphis, Tennessee, under the blue neon haze of Beale Street and the greasy scent of barbecue smoke, lived a werewolf named Gary. Not the kind of werewolf you see in horror flicks—Gary was a bit… rounder. More fluffy than feral.

He’d been packing on pounds since the early 2000s—blame it on fast food, sedentary moons, and the irresistible allure of Gus’s Fried Chicken. His full-moon howls had turned into wheezes. He couldn’t chase cars anymore without needing a Gatorade and a nap.

“Man, I used to leap rooftops,” he muttered one night, belly jiggling as he tried to squeeze through a doggy door he’d once busted through like an action hero.

That was the night Gary hit rock bottom—literally. He got stuck halfway in, halfway out, and had to wait till sunrise to reverse-wolf out of it. Shame burned hotter than a Memphis summer.

Enter: Cordova Weight Loss Clinic

Scrolling through local Facebook groups between bites of leftover ribs, Gary saw an ad:

“Tired of carrying the weight of the world (and your belly)? Tirzepatide Shots now available at Cordova Weight Loss Clinic! One shot a week. Real results.”

It felt like fate. He didn’t even know what Tirzepatide was—but it sounded like something he needed. He signed up the next morning. Well, night. Werewolves have weird schedules.

The Transformation Begins

His first visit was nerve-wracking. The staff didn’t blink at the fact that he was six feet tall, furry, and wore XXL sweatpants.

“Gary, we’ve helped plenty of people with emotional eating and hormone imbalances. You’re just hairier,” said his nurse practitioner, Carla, cheerfully. “Let’s get you started on Tirzepatide.”

The shot was painless. The results? Magic. Okay, not magic, but close enough. Over the next few weeks, Gary felt lighter. Hungers that once demanded entire rotisserie chickens at midnight were now gentle nudges. His joints didn’t creak. His tail wagged again—for the first time in years.

A Howl of Joy

By week eight, Gary had dropped twenty-five pounds. His XL hoodies no longer screamed for mercy. He even joined a nighttime Zumba class in Overton Park.

One crisp October night, he stood on the edge of the Mississippi River, silhouetted by moonlight, abs kinda visible if he flexed and breathed just right.

He tilted his snout up and howled—not from pain or hunger—but from pride. A long, loud, joyful “AWOOOOOOOOO!”

Somewhere in Cordova, Nurse Carla smiled in her sleep.

Moral of the Story:

If a werewolf in Memphis can lose weight with a little help and one shot a week… so can you. 🐺💉✨

Visit our clinic today, and take the first step toward feeling your best!