Day 129 & 130: The Weekend Of Hair, Phones, Pizza, Vomit, Cats, Zombies & Mounjaro Madness.

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, I’ll keep drinking it until I’m 97.

My boyfriend dropped me off and off he went on his heroic quest to resurrect his phone situation - although knowing his luck, the universe probably had other plans.

Meanwhile, I marched into the hairdresser looking like a woman who hasn’t had a coherent thought since 2014. I had no idea what I wanted done.

Not a clue.

But in a split second - as if possessed by the ghost of a glamorous woodland fairy - I committed to a warm chocolate brown with balayage and soft highlights.

Full makeover.

Full winter queen moment.

Go big or go home.

My hairdresser, absolute icon and fellow Mounjaro survivor, was already buzzing around the salon with enough ADHD energy to power a small town. We laughed so much my stomach genuinely shook — which, by the way, felt like mixing cement inside a jam jar because of the 10mg Mounjaro. Belly laughs on Mounjaro hit DIFFERENT. It’s like the stomach tries to clap.

She left me to marinate while the colour developed, so I sipped my peppermint tea like the classy woman I pretend to be.

Meanwhile, still zero messages from my other half.

Not even a “still alive” text.

That was a strong indicator that nothing - and I mean nothing - had been sorted on the phone front.

Thank God I told him when to pick me up because otherwise I’d be setting up camp with my foils on.

While waiting, I started contemplating our collective addiction to phones. Honestly - HOW DID WE LIVE BEFORE?

My first phone was that legendary Nokia brick with an antenna, and I swear we were happier.

We didn’t tweet every sneeze or message someone 0.4 seconds after leaving the room.

We literally just… lived.

Now if I lost my phone I’d behave like someone cut off my limb.

OK maybe not a whole limb but absolutely a decent chunk of my sanity.

Hair done.

Blow dry done.

Transformation?

COMPLETE.

I looked like a winter chocolate goddess.

I could have walked straight onto a Hallmark Christmas movie set and asked them why nobody had cast me yet.

To celebrate, I grabbed a slice of carrot cake and a brownie from the café next door - because hair appointments are basically marathons and deserve solid carb-based applause.

My lovely boyfriend showed up (miracle!), instantly fell in love with the hair, and off we went food shopping.

Except FIRST he told me about the phone shop debacle and honestly - I nearly passed out.

Apparently the man behind the counter told him to call a drainage company to fish the phone out of the storm drain because “iPhone 15 Pro is like, a super phone, it can float for a week and still work.”

I’m sorry… WHAT?

Who is this man?

Where did he get his qualifications?

Did he perhaps confuse an iPhone with a submarine? Or a buoy?

Also - corrosion?

Water damage?

A literal river?

Basic physics?

Nah, he didn’t let any of that get in the way of his confidence.

And the suggestion to RETURN the new phone (which is also his Christmas present) after paying a drain company to fish out the old one…

Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d think the guy was filming a hidden camera prank.

Anyway - we went food shopping.

And miracle of miracles: I didn’t fancy anything.

10mg is working its magic.

Like a tiny strict bouncer guarding the entrance to my stomach saying “Not tonight love, you’re not coming in.”

We dropped off the food at home and hit a different town to try our luck with another phone shop.

Guess what?

SORTED IN 15 MINUTES.

Because Jabatha does not accept foolishness or incompetence.

My man was finally reconnected to civilisation and I could stop worrying he’d disappear into a forest without GPS.

On the way back we stopped at the cosiest countryside pub - warm fireplaces, friendly locals, drinks to celebrate the end of the Phone Saga of Hell.

I felt like we deserved an award ceremony.

Then home for the final act: DOMINO’S.

Garlic bread, chicken strippers (still no explanation as to why they’re called strippers - were the chickens exotic dancers?), pizza, cookies for him.

I managed two slices and one chicken piece but honestly that felt like climbing Everest on Mounjaro.

We watched The Beast in Me but the week had wiped us out so badly that we went to bed at 9pm. On a Saturday.

Are we 80?

YES.

And honestly we’re thriving.

SUNDAY - Day 130: The Day of Lazy Chaos

Obviously, because we went to bed early, my internal alarm clock decided to wake us at 5am.

Thanks.

Really helpful.

Both cats were missing - because they KNOW it’s the weekend and therefore refuse to cooperate with human sleep patterns.

Little furry dictators.

I had coffee and went back to bed with Ruby to watch TV.

She curled up like the tiny queen she is.

Honestly that cat has boundaries, schedules and self-respect I aspire to.

Wasn’t hungry at all - classic Mounjaro - so we watched Christmas films until I eventually drifted off again, while my boyfriend happily murdered zombies downstairs on the PS5.

Romance.

Woke up feeling like I was on a ferry in a storm.

Cue a little vomit/retching performance, very dainty, very elegant (Queen Elizabeth would’ve been proud).

Afterwards I had some cold pizza - as one does, because cold pizza is a universal cure-all - plus some bread, but I couldn’t finish it.

Appetite was on strike.

No lunch.

No dinner.

Honestly who even am I.

Meanwhile I did three loads of washing, because apparently that’s who I am now - a domestic goddess with nausea.

Worried about baby Molly all day - she kept hiding upstairs.

Poor thing must be in pain from her teeth… or possibly just vibing in a warm room because the heating was on.

Either way, I kept popping my head in like a concerned NHS nurse doing rounds.

The weekend was FREEZING.

Arctic.

My Mounjaro freeze was doing overtime.

Winter is here and my body thermostat has given up.

Sunday is NFL day - Seahawks AND Eagles were playing.

Seahawks won, obviously.

Didn’t stay up for the Eagles game because Monday = office day = 5am start = NO THANKS.

And now… that’s the end of our weekend.

Honestly - weekends at home with my man and our furry babies? Pure happiness.

Next weekend will be VERY different - we’re going to Poland!

Krakow, Auschwitz, Birkenau, Poznań, Gdańsk, Sopot, Baltic Sea winds that could slice your will to live - and CHRISTMAS MARKETS in every city!

It’ll be my Mr’s first time in Poland and I’m so happy to show him my country.

Proud doesn’t even cover it.

Will probably freeze into an ice sculpture - especially with Mounjaro chilling my soul from the inside out - but what a way to go.

With Love,

JABatha Christie