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

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

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

Well, my darlings… it’s official. Thursday Jab Day has been retired. Gone. Over. Finished. He served me faithfully for 16 dramatic, bloated, and occasionally constipated weeks - but the time has come for change. Yes, I, JABatha Christie, have switched allegiance. The new era has dawned. Welcome to Friday Jab Day - same needle, new vibe. Thursday evenings were becoming… too much. The pressure. The anticipation. Jabbing too late. The emotional rollercoaster of weigh-ins, self-r

Oh, my darlings! Before we begin - apologies for the radio silence! I know, I know. You probably thought I’d jabbed myself into another dimension or eloped with a pharmacist. But no. I’ve simply been living through a six-day emotional rollercoaster that made the Tower of Terror look like a gentle carousel. Buckle up - this is going to be a long one. Thursday Day 106 - Weigh-In and Jab Day: The Scales of Injustice Thursday dawned with hope, promise, and the faint whiff of desp

Weigh-In Week 15: The Great Plateau Panic! Well. Here we are. Week 15. Three. Whole. Weeks. Of. NOTHING. AGAIN! Not a single gram. Not even the faintest whisper of a decimal. The scales just sat there this morning, mocking me in complete silence, like “You again?” Honestly, at this point, I think my bathroom scales are gaslighting me. I’ve cleaned them. I’ve moved them. I’ve whispered affirmations at them. I even stepped on one foot first just to see if they’d show mercy. Nop

Ah, my darling Jabbers. We meet again. Day 99. Ninety-nine days of jabs, bloating, burping, bravery, and now… rain. So much rain. Let’s dive right in (quite literally, as you’ll soon see). 5am - Rise and Whine: Another 5am wake-up. Why? Who am I trying to impress? The King? The sunrise? Nevertheless, I heroically rolled out of bed, muttering obscenities and negotiating with my knees, who were not in the mood to bend. First mission of the day: weigh-in. And let me tell you - t

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

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,” “

Ah, Wednesday. Bin day. The day of domestic glamour and olfactory challenges. I awoke to the gentle purr of Ruby - my sweet, spewy alarm clock - perched elegantly upon my chest. A vision of feline serenity… until I realised she had once again redecorated the carpet. And, for added flair, the freshly washed duvet. With undigested food. Truly, a multi-sensory experience. Poor baby. Although… between her nausea and my appetite swings, I’m beginning to suspect she’s been sneaking

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

Slept like an absolute dream. Honestly, my bed deserves an award. A BAFTA, an MBE, something. It’s the only consistent relationship in my...

The Case of the Disappearing Me (Down 25.8 lbs!) Twelve weeks. Three months. 84 days of needles, nausea, dry heaving, and cats sitting on...

Worked from home today, which sounds relaxing in theory - in reality, it was a phlegm-filled, retch-powered symphony of coughs, wheezes...

Slept like an absolute baby, with the chunky feline butt of Ruby the Purring Machine firmly planted on my chest. Honestly, if there were...

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...