Factor Health MD Review

Our assessment

Factor Health MD publishes more pricing detail than anything else in this comparison. Four commitment lengths for each of two drugs, every per-month figure printed beside the total it actually charges, a third drug almost nobody here prices at all, one-off vial pricing if you don't want a plan, and the same inclusions listed under every tier. It is genuinely good disclosure. The reviewed pages, including its terms and privacy policy, do not identify the operating company.

The best price table here, and it isn't close

Semaglutide is sold on four plans: annual, semi-annual, quarterly and monthly. So is tirzepatide. Each tier shows a per-month figure and, beside it, the total charged for the whole term. Under each one sits the same four-line inclusions list: the medication at all doses, syringes and swabs at no extra cost, virtual physician appointments as needed, shipping included.

Publishing the total is the part that matters. A per-month figure attached to a twelve-month commitment is a number nobody actually pays; the amount that leaves your account is the total, and most sellers here never print it. This one prints it on every rung of both ladders.

It also prices a compounded liraglutide, which very few sellers in this comparison do at all, and states the dose ceiling beside the figure. One catch worth knowing: liraglutide appears on the quarterly ladder only. There is no monthly, semi-annual or annual liraglutide plan.

Beneath the plans sits a pay-as-you-go tier — one-time purchases with no recurring charge, priced by vial strength, three strengths for semaglutide and two for tirzepatide. Those are quantities of drug, and the page never says how long a vial is meant to last, so you cannot turn one into a weekly or monthly rate.

The cheapest number on the site is a year paid up front

The headline figure — the one in the banner, the hero and the comparison table — is the annual tier. The landing page says so in a line directly beneath the number, naming the billing term and the saving. That is a disclosed prepayment rather than a hidden one, and it is why this price counts as a stable one rather than a promotion.

Still, do the arithmetic before you are impressed by it. The month-to-month rate on semaglutide is meaningfully higher than the annual rate, and on tirzepatide higher again. If you are not certain you will still be on a GLP-1 in eleven months, compare the monthly figure against other sellers, not the annual one.

One inconsistency sits in the paperwork. The landing page says twice that no memberships are required, once in a hero badge and once in a paragraph about showing every tier before collecting any personal information. The Terms of Service describe a Basic Membership covering website use, customer support, pharmacy and care coordination. Both statements are live on the same site.

Nobody will tell you who the company is

Thirteen pages of this site name no company: the privacy policy, the Terms of Service, the FAQ, the returns policy, the notice of privacy practices, the telehealth informed consent, the marketing consents page, the medical weight-loss bill of rights, the contact page, the pricing page, the homepage and two product pages.

No LLC, no Inc, no Corporation, no P.A. or P.C., no operated-by, no owned-by, no doing-business-as. The Terms of Service — the document you legally agree to — refer only to the brand name. The footer gives a city, a phone number and an email address, and a copyright line with a year and no entity beside it.

That has a practical consequence beyond principle. A warning-letter check, a state licensing lookup, a corporate registry search, a lawsuit — every one of those starts with a legal name, and there is nothing here to start with. Compare Emerge, which prints its LLC and its trademark registration on the pricing page itself, or Claya, whose Terms open by naming a Delaware corporation with a name that shares nothing with the brand.

One name, in a pull quote

There is a doctor's name on the GLP-1 landing page. It sits under a paragraph of enthusiasm about GLP-1 medicines transforming weight-loss medicine, formatted as a pull quote, with the brand name beneath it. No title. No credentials beyond the honorific. No statement that he sees patients, prescribes, or leads anything.

That is a name and nothing more. It is a weaker disclosure than an author byline, and far weaker than a medical director with a published residency.

The pharmacy question gets a similar non-answer. The FAQ asks it directly — what pharmacy do you partner with — and answers with a network of licensed, FDA-regulated pharmacies across the United States. No name. Worse, the sitewide footer calls them FDA-approved compounding pharmacies. The FDA does not approve pharmacies, and it does not approve the compounded drugs they prepare. That phrasing tells you the opposite of the thing you most need to understand about a compounded product.

Where it works, and what it promises

There is no state list. The FAQ says you must reside in or be physically present in a state where the company operates. The Terms say you must live in a state or territory where the services are available. Neither names one.

The landing page does have a Select Your State dropdown containing every state in the country. That is part of the intake form, not a coverage claim. A dropdown listing every state shows what the form accepts, not where the company actually operates.

On the other side of the ledger, the site publishes a refund guarantee in plain words: if you do not lose weight by the end of your program, you can request a refund. It also says every pricing tier is displayed before any personal information is collected, and that holds — the whole matrix sits on a public page with no intake required. In a category where walking the intake is often the only way to see a number at all, that deserves saying.