Ah, Day 98. It began, as all glamorous mornings do, with me waking up at 5pm… wait. No. That’s not a typo. 5pm. I woke up to Molly’s butt in my face. The alarm hadn’t even gone off - apparently, I’m now on dog time. There I was, bleary-eyed, fumbling in the darkness, trying to locate my dignity and a pair of socks, before realising: I actually had to function like a human being today. So off I went, driving through the pitch-black abyss, muttering motivational quotes to mysel

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

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

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

My darlings, please accept my deepest apologies for the radio silence - I promise I haven’t been abducted by Vecna or enrolled in a champagne appreciation course (though both are equally plausible). The truth is far simpler and far more fabulous: I was celebrating my birthday. And not just any birthday - the kind that leaves your liver writing strongly worded letters to your brain. Let us rewind to Friday, a.k.a. Day 93, a.k.a. “The Great London Adventure.” FRIDAY - Strange

A JABatha Christie Original: Thursday, Sponsored by Fatigue, Felines, and Fear of Coldwater. My darling Jabbers, we’ve made it to Day 92. Ninety-two whole days of jabs, naps, soup, and the occasional near-death experience with carpet vomit. And speaking of carpets - you’ll be delighted to know that there was no sick today! A small victory in the household, as I awoke to Ruby’s usual 5am Podcast of Chaos (working title: Purring, Shuffling, and Random Headbutts: The Feline Awak

The Scale Betrayal Chronicles My darling Jabbers, gather round. I have news. Grim, unjust, soul-crushing news. After a week of saintly behaviour - salads, water, not even sniffing a biscuit - I stepped on the scales this morning and… nothing. Not an ounce. Not a gram. Not even the faint suggestion of a wobble in the right direction. The number glared back at me, smug and unchanging, as if to say, “Cute try, darling. But no.” Now, I know, I know - “weight loss isn’t linear,” “

My darling Jabbers, please forgive my radio silence these past four days - I assure you I have neither joined a cult nor eloped with a breadstick. It’s simply been… two lazy days and two crazy days. A true yin and yang of Mounjaro life. The scales of chaos and calm delicately balanced atop a pile of cat sick, mashed potatoes, and questionable decision-making. Let’s dive in. Saturday: The Day of the Sick Cat and Cancelled Zen The day began as all great tragedies do: with a noi

Apologies for the radio silence, my fellow Jabbers! I have been under the weather - and not in a poetic, “moody raincloud over a Paris...

Weigh-in day, baby! The alarm went off and before I even opened my eyes, I knew today was the day of reckoning. First, though, I had to...

Day 77. WOW. Let’s talk about sevens. In numerology, a single 7 means wisdom, intuition, and spiritual awakening. Basically, it’s the...

Another office day. Another 5am wake-up. At this point, I feel like I should just legally change my name to “The Human Alarm Clock”...

Ahhh Mondays. That cursed invention of the calendar where the universe collectively decides to remind you that the weekend is over and...

Oh my sweet jabbers, gather round. This weekend, I achieved something truly spectacular. Some people run marathons. Others climb...

Ah, Friday. The crown jewel of the working week. The day that says: “Hang on love, you’ve survived emails, meetings, Teams calls that...

The Case of the Disappearing Pounds Ladies, gents, and fellow detectives in the true crime meets true carbs universe, gather round: we’ve...

Seventy. Days. On. Mounjaro. Can we just take a moment? Because at this point, I feel like I should be receiving a telegram from the...

Alright, buckle up my darling Watsons, because Day 69 isn’t just another diary entry – this is the origin story of JABatha Christie. The...

Well my darlings, today was supposed to be a productive “office-ready, power-suit, boss-lady” kind of day. But instead, the universe...

Saturday was completely written off. Like, stamped, shredded, and sent back to sender. Why? Because yours truly thought it was a good...