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

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

Tuesday - Day 132: The Jab Freeze & Pancake Apocalypse Worked from home. Normally that means luxury - a casual 7am wake up, soft housecoat, warm slippers, angelic soundtrack of purring cats. But no. My body said absolutely not and woke me at 5am like I had a train to catch to the Arctic. I laid there blinking at the ceiling wondering why my brain still thinks I’m on commuter duty even when there’s no need. Trauma. Pure trauma. The cats, strangely, were SILENT. No 5am opera. N

Saturday began with the kind of early start that makes you question your entire identity. Who books a hair appointment for 9am on a Saturday? I guess… me. Clearly I hate myself. Dragged myself out of bed, muttering something violent in the direction of my alarm, and immediately clutched my collagen coffee like it was an emotional support beverage. Honestly, at this point I don’t even know if collagen works but if it stops one hair from thinking about running away from my head

Ohhhh buckle up, my darlings, because Thursday – DAY 127 served weather trauma, fashion excellence, public transport emotional damage, and Mounjaro-fuelled digestive foreshadowing. A buffet of chaos. A tasting menu of survival. A chef’s kiss of JABatha-level melodrama. Waking Up: The Ruby Radio Show™ Alarm goes off. Ruby immediately switches into her BREAKFAST BROADCAST MODE, like she’s about to read the 6am headlines on BBC News. Except the headlines are: “Mummy, I want snac

Weigh-In Week 18: The Tale Of The DISAPPEARING JABatha My darlings, gather round. Week 18 has arrived, and once again the scales have spoken, beeped, flashed, and declared: another 2.2lbs has left my body like a disgruntled tenant who finally realised they haven’t paid rent since 2016. This brings the grand total to a deliriously theatrical: 30.9lbs lost 14 entire kilograms evicted from my person - the equivalent of an ENTIRELY UNNECESSARY amount of mass that I will now compa

A JABatha Christie production Season 1, Episode 120 & 121: “Cement Arm & The Friday Redemption Arc” THURSDAY - DAY 120 A day that started earlier than the sanity of any human should allow. THE 5AM FOOLERY Another early start. Another office day. Another episode of Why The Hell Is My Alarm Awake Before The Sun. And of course - OF COURSE - I was woken up not by the gentle chime of my phone, but by the cat podcast happening live in my bedroom. Ruby, Queen of Chaos, Duchess of Dr

Weigh-In Week 17: The Return Of The Slay Ladies, gents, cats, rats, and household spirits hiding under the sofa - your girl has shed another 1.1lbs. Total: 28.7lbs lost AKA: 13 kilograms AKA: basically a medium-sized farm animal at this point Let me tell you… watching that scale drop was like watching a soap opera miracle. I half expected the theme tune to start playing and the scales to whisper: “You thought it was over, didn’t you?” “Plot twist, babe.” Week 17 came in with

Ah, Thursday. The day formerly known as Jab Day, the day of office appearances, and apparently, the day I decided to become the fearless heroine of my own anxiety-inducing action film. Scene One: The Dawn of Courage (and Cat Chaos) It began, as all heroic journeys do, with an alarm. At 5 a.m. sharp, the delightful sound of my phone shrieking through the darkness like an angry robot demanding productivity. Of course, my first alarm had already gone off much earlier - not elect

Weigh-In Week 16: The Great Plateau Has Fallen! Friends, Romans, jabbed countrymen – lend me your needles! For I come bearing miraculous news. After three long, gruelling weeks of emotional turmoil, quiet rage, and dramatic sighing in front of my bathroom mirror, the scales have finally moved. Yes. After being trapped in a weight-loss desert - where the only thing shrinking was my patience - I have finally lost 1.8 lbs this week, bringing my glorious grand total to 27.6 lbs (

Ahhh, the mornings of working from home. You know the ones - you convince yourself you’ll “sleep in a little” but still end up awake at 6:59am, staring at the ceiling, haunted by flashbacks of Monday’s car hijack attempt. Yes, THAT terrifying moment when I, JABATHA CHRISTIE herself, nearly became an episode of Crimewatch - all because I dared to drive the most elite vehicle known to mankind: my beloved Mini Cooper. They clearly picked the wrong woman. The wrong day. The wrong

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, 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

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