burps | Jabathachristie

Day 100: Vomit, Victory & Very Questionable Life Choices - 100 days jabbed, bloated, and still standing (barely).

Well, my darling Jabbers… we made it. ONE. HUNDRED. DAYS. A whole century of jabs, cravings, burps, plateaus, triumphs, and toilets. And how did I celebrate this momentous milestone, you ask? By starting the morning with my head in the toilet. No, not because of champagne or questionable kebabs. Not even because I wanted to admire my new toilet duck. But because my stomach decided, “You know what would be fun? Let’s expel everything she’s eaten since August.” It was like a ga

4 days ago4 min read

Week 14 Weigh-in - dose 7.5mg

Week 14: Plateau? I Hardly Know Her! Gather round, my darling Jabbers, for it is I - your ever-hopeful, ever-hungry heroine - reporting live from the Mounjaro rollercoaster, week 14 edition. And what a thrilling ride it’s been… except the ride seems to have stopped. On the same spot. For two. Whole. Weeks. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the scales and I are currently locked in a passive-aggressive staring contest. Every morning, I approach with optimism and perhaps a touch of del

4 days ago2 min read

Day 97: MOUNJARO: The Jab, The Myth, The Digestive Rollercoaster

Slightly different post today my fellow Jabbers! A bit of a reflection really… Ah, Mounjaro. The tiny weekly syringe that launched a thousand lifestyle overhauls - part miracle, part menace, all drama. The jab that promised control, calm, and confidence… and delivered a side order of nausea, introspection, and burps that could rattle crockery. When I started, I imagined Mounjaro would turn me into that woman - you know the one: sipping lemon water, glowing like she’s sponsore

7 days ago3 min read

Day 96: The Great Vomit Uprising (a.k.a. The Monday That Never Slept)

Wow. What. A. Night. Friends, Romans, Jabbers… lend me your disinfectant. Because I have survived the feline equivalent of a zombie apocalypse - but with more hairballs and less sense of mercy. Let’s start with the obvious: I did not sleep. At all. Well, maybe there was an hour in there somewhere, sandwiched between the sounds of retching, the frantic scrabble of paws, and me muttering, “Oh God, not again,” into a roll of kitchen towel. My poor baby Ruby - Queen of Chaos, Duc

Oct 203 min read