Day 50: The Big Five-Oh and the Case of the Vanishing Tastebuds

Ladies, gentlemen, cats, and protein bowls that nobody asked for - can we just take a dramatic pause and acknowledge something?

50 DAYS.

Yes, it’s been 50 whole days of me injecting myself, eating like a rabbit on Instagram, arguing with Boots like I’m in a budget courtroom drama, and generally shrinking faster than my social life during a tube strike.

Fifty. Days. Wow. I mean, time really does fly when you’re having fun (and by fun, I obviously mean dizziness, butt-loss, and rice rations).

Nearly 19 lbs down - back into a size 12 - and honestly, I can’t believe it. My clothes can’t either.

So my day started in the most on-brand way possible: waking up with 5.5kg of cat on my chest and her chunky butt in my face. No cat podcast last night - which is rare - but apparently she decided to experiment with live performances instead.

Breakfast was the usual Instagram-worthy protein bowl with collagen coffee on the side. Delicious in theory, disappointing in practice, because I couldn’t finish it.

Cue dramatic sigh and violin music.

Work was busy - meetings, meetings, meetings. Honestly, I miss the office so much. I’d give anything for a chat by the coffee machine, or just to gossip about Karen from Accounts and her weird lunch choices.

But no, I’m trapped at home, with the added excitement of a possible tube strike threatening to ruin everything next week. Bastards!

Lunch was a tragic affair: wholemeal toast with ham.

A bit cardboard-ish if I’m honest.

Where are my taste buds?

Has the virus stolen them?

Or has Mounjaro just replaced them with a constant sense of vague disappointment?

Either way, lunch was about as exciting as watching paint dry.

Virus is still clinging on too, energy levels flatter than my lost butt, and the nap I desperately needed didn’t happen because, you guessed it, more work.

Dinner, though, saved the day.

Boyfriend and I went all fancy with a baked lightly smoked salmon fillet, rice, and veg. Very wholesome, very Instagrammable, very “oh look at us adulting.”

Except, obviously, I only got half of mine because apparently “sharing is caring.”

Translation: he ate half my portion. At this rate, my lost pounds are literally transferring to him. Symbiotic weight distribution - how romantic.

The evening wrapped up with our favourite couple’s activity: binge-watching TV. MasterChef, First Dates, you know the drill.

Add in some cuddles (because I am a cuddle addict and he is very, very lucky to have me), and it was basically the perfect cozy night.

Oh and let’s talk about these clothes for a minute because this is A Moment™.

Once upon a time, my wardrobe was a graveyard of “someday” outfits.

You know, the jeans that used to make you feel fabulous but now require CPR to get past your thighs. The dresses that used to glide but now scream for mercy.

Well… they’re BACK. Oh yes. Jabatha is waltzing back into her nice clothes like a phoenix rising from the ashes of elasticated waistbands. Clothes that had been sulking at the back of the wardrobe for years are finally getting an outing, and darlings, they FIT.

And here’s the twist: nothing is tight anymore. Nothing. Even stuff I once considered “snug but sassy” is now hanging off me like I’ve stolen it from my older brother that I don't have...

I’ve got tops that flap. Jeans that threaten to moon the neighbours. I even slipped on a dress and thought, well this feels like I’m wearing a bin bag with sleeves.

The best/worst part? I can actually fit into a medium again.

A MEDIUM.

Me!

Again!

Result!

Oh and I think a bit of my butt has been abducted by aliens who specialise in bum extractions. Oh well, nothing that won't come back with exercises.

Now, as with all great detective stories, there must be a villain, and today’s award goes once again to Boots for not receivig my next pen. FGS!

My beloved, my nemesis, my eternal battle partner.

As I jabbed my right thigh this afternoon with my last 5mg dose , then had to ring Boots to ask where my next pen was. Do you know what they said?

“Tomorrow.” TOMORROW! Oh sure, like I haven’t heard that one before. I’ll believe it when I see it. Honestly, Boots stockpiling pens like it’s the new crypto currency is not the vibe. People out here hoarding while I’m one misdelivered parcel away from chewing on a biro.

Not fair, not cool, and definitely not cute. Rant over!

So here we are. Day 50. Nearly 19 lbs lighter, size 12, medium-wearing, butt-losing, Boots-arguing, toast-mocking, tube-strike-hating, cuddle-loving JABatha Christie.

And you know what?

Even with the virus lingering, even with Boots driving me to madness, even with cardboard lunches… I feel amazing. Truly.

With Love,

JABatha Christie