If you’d told me a year ago, while I was standing in my kitchen having a full-scale emotional breakdown over a tiny injection pen, that twelve months later I’d be writing an anniversary post about losing nearly 36 pounds while also learning how to live with Long Covid, PoTS and Orthostatic Hypotension, I’d have laughed. Then I’d have asked if you were absolutely sure you had the right person. Because my plan for this year was beautifully simple. Lose some weight. Feel healthi

If Part 1 was about getting my life back… Part 2 is about the moment life looked at me and said, “Cute. Now watch this.” Because this was supposed to be the bit where I carried on losing weight. Another few pounds. A few smaller clothes. A couple more ridiculous weigh-ins involving comparisons to farm animals and kitchen appliances. Instead… my body decided to release what I can only describe as the Director’s Cut. It actually makes me laugh now because if you’d asked me at t

There are moments in life when you know something significant is happening. Getting married. Buying a house. Accidentally replying all to an email. And then… Standing in your kitchen, holding what can only be described as the world’s most expensive tiny pen, wondering whether you’re about to become a healthier version of yourself or accidentally inject your spleen. That was me. One year ago. One tiny jab. One enormous amount of unnecessary drama. Because if you’ve been here f

If anyone had asked me how this week was going to go, I’d probably have confidently replied, “Oh, fairly quiet I think.” Which, as we all know by now, is basically the equivalent of standing in the middle of a field during a thunderstorm waving a metal umbrella around shouting, “What’s the worst that could happen?” Because this week had absolutely everything. A headache that deserved its own NHS referral, meetings about meetings, oversized red blood cells, another Mounjaro ja

Weekly Weigh-In: Week 53 - The Incredible Shrinking JABatha Strikes Again Weekly loss: 2 lbs Total loss: 35.5 lbs (16.1 kg) Well… Would you look at that. Another two pounds have packed their bags, left without paying rent, and disappeared into the witness protection programme. At this point I’m convinced my fat is secretly emigrating. When I got ill with Long Covid, PoTS and OH, life threw me a plot twist that absolutely nobody ordered. One minute I was happily jabbing away o

You know those weekends where you think: “This is it. This is the comeback weekend.” Yeah… Mine submitted a complaint to management. Saturday (Day 360) I remember waking up during the night with my heart absolutely galloping. Not because my body had decided to malfunction for absolutely no reason (although that’s always a possibility these days). No. I’d had the most ridiculous dream imaginable. There was apparently a burglar hiding in my wardrobe. Not stealing anything. Just

Weekly Weigh-In: Week 52 - My Scales Have Finally Decided To Apologise Can we all just take a moment to appreciate how unbelievably dramatic the human body can be? Honestly. If my body had a Facebook status, it would permanently read: “It’s complicated.” Last week, I stepped on the scales and was greeted by a number I definitely hadn’t invited. +6.6 lbs. Six point six. Not six ounces. Not “maybe I’ve had a big dinner.” A proper, full-on, “have I accidentally swallowed a small

Wow… what an evening and what a night... The pain. Bloody hell. I honestly don’t know whether yesterday’s steroid injection actually went into my shoulder or somehow took a scenic detour and ended up in my brain stem. At this point I’m willing to consider all possibilities because it would certainly explain why my neck has all the flexibility of a Victorian grandfather clock. Need to look left? Not happening. Need to look right? Also not happening. Need to look behind me? Wel

Honestly… The last couple of weeks particularly but I would stretch as far as few months (- the temp), have felt like I’ve accidentally been selected for some new reality TV show called “Survive If You Can.” Temperature? Approximately 100 billion degrees. Sleep? Cancelled. PoTS? Thriving. Shoulder pain? Operating on a level previously only achieved by medieval torture devices. I genuinely think these have been the worst three weeks I’ve had in a long time. You know it’s bad w

You know when people say, “Things come in threes”? Cute. My body clearly misunderstood the assignment and went for the unlimited subscription. At this point I don’t wake up in the morning… I log in. Every day starts with me wondering which part of my body has submitted a complaint overnight. Heart? Blood pressure? Brain? Shoulder? Eyes? Energy? Let’s spin the Wheel of Medical Misfortune and find out! Honestly, if my autonomic nervous system worked in an office, HR would’ve ma

There are certain moments in life that stay with you forever. Your first kiss. Passing your driving test. Buying your first house. And then… The day your feet decide they’re auditioning for Avatar. But I’m getting ahead of myself... By the beginning of April, I’d completely hit the wall. Not a gentle little bump. A full-speed, face-first collision. After months of telling myself I was “just tired”, my body finally staged a full-scale rebellion. I was signed off work for three

Strap in. Cancel plans. Text your loved ones. Hydrate aggressively. This post is going to be LONGER, LOUDER, UNHINGED, UNEDITED, and EXTREMELY JABatha. Right. FIRST THINGS FIRST. Admin. Housekeeping. Clearing the air. YES - I am aware I vanished. NO - this was not a creative sabbatical. NO - this was not a “strategic pause”. NO - this was not a soft launch of mystery, intrigue, or personal rebrand. NO - I did not go on Eat Pray Love. If anything, I went on Cough Wheeze Dissoc

Weekly Weigh-In: Week 27 - AKA: The One Where My Brain Took Annual Leave and My Body Kept the Receipts Well hello there. It’s me. Alive. Mostly. Emerging slowly from the fog like a Victorian child with a fainting couch and a dramatic sigh. Yes. SIX WEEKS. Six whole weeks since my last blog post. Week 21 feels like a previous era. A different season of life. Possibly a different government. Before anyone panics: I did not fall off the planet, I did not rage-quit the internet,

Ahhh yes… Thursday and Friday. Days 148 and 149. Two days so weird and chaotic they deserve their own Netflix mini-series. Or at least a three-part BBC documentary narrated by David Attenborough: “Here we observe the modern woman in her natural habitat… at home… staring blankly at her laptop… praying for WiFi stability.” Because babes, I worked from home BOTH days. Me. WFH. Back-to-back. THURSDAY: DAY 148 — Emails, Retching & Riveting Glamour I woke up like a Victorian child

WEIGH-IN WEEK 21: THE POLISH PIEROGI PARADOX (aka: How I Lost 0.5 lbs While Acting Like a Competitive Eater in Kraków) Week 21. 10 mg jab. 0.5 lbs down. Total loss: 32.2 lbs / 14.6 kg. And honestly? After the last week, I should’ve been gaining the weight of a mid-sized toddler, not dropping half a pound. Because let’s be very clear: I did not behave like someone on a weight-loss journey. I behaved like someone unleashed into Poland with the emotional stability of a toddler a

Oh, where do I even begin? These last three days - Monday to Wednesday - have been a swirling tornado of snots, fevers, Zoom meetings, digestive rebellion, and existential dread. Apparently, I brought home a little souvenir virus from my recent Poland trip, because why wouldn’t I? Christmas markets are basically human anthills, and somewhere between dodging drunken Santas and elbowing my way to the mulled wine stall, I caught something that has now turned me into a sad, sligh

A very very long blog post, featuring: Poland, pierogi, panic, over 20k steps a day, history, sausages, ancestral ghosts, and one terrified British boyfriend meeting The Parents. My loves, gather close. This is the Holiday Edition of The Mounjaro Chronicles. The Odyssey of JABatha Christie. The almost 9-Day Polish Whirlwind Tour, where I: dragged my British boyfriend across four cities, walked more steps than a Fitbit employee on a performance review, ate more food than shoul

My darlings, welcome to Week 20, also known as: “The Episode Where JABatha Christie Cannot Weigh Herself Because She’s Been Busy Dragging Her British Man Across Poland Like a Cultural Hostage.” Yes. For the first time in 20 weeks of obsessively stepping on a scale like it’s a personality test, there is no weigh-in. None. Zero. Zilch. Even my Apple Watch was looking confused like, “Girl? Are we… done? Is this freedom?” But listen - this week was a special one. THE GRAND POLISH

Thursday – Day 134: A human popsicle, a headache, and the emotional support of Stranger Things. I woke up Thursday feeling like a weak Victorian child who needed broth and a blanket and perhaps a fainting couch to dramatically collapse onto. Bit headachy, a touch fragile, and honestly the perfect candidate to star in a tragic Netflix documentary called “Not Today, Immune System”. And of course, I cannot be ill now. Absolutely not. Universe, LISTEN - I have Poland coming up. S

Weigh-In Week 19: The Saga of the Shrinking Woman Who Defied Physics & Still Got Called “Overweight” by BMI Sit down. Pour tea. Maybe fetch a biscuit (for you, not me, I’m living on hope and protein yoghurt). Because today, dear reader, marks Week 19 in my shrinking journey - a journey filled with victories, tantrums, suspiciously long bathroom weigh-ins, and the occasional emotional breakdown in front of a loaf of sourdough. This week I lost… 0.8lbs. Yes. Less than a bag of