Day 65: The JABatha Nausea Games Kicked Off Again

Alright, buckle in, darling, because JABatha Christie is about to serve you Day 65: The Nausea Games, and as always, it’s a full feature-length episode, complete with ginger chews, pee-pee marathons, and a sprinkle of retail therapy that could rival Amazon Prime Day.

Let’s begin.

So, I went to bed last night, full of hope, optimism, and ginger tea. I really thought nausea had packed its bags, got on the train, and moved out of my life.

WRONG.

It decided to camp outside my stomach like an unwelcome squatter, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

And strike it did - right before bed.

Classic nausea move.

But never fear - ginger chews, my faithful sidekicks, came galloping in like knights in chewy, spicy armor. Honestly, at this point, I should just bulk-buy them and carry them around in a utility belt like Batman.

Note to self: patent “The Nausea Belt™” - pouches of ginger chews, mints, and maybe a sick bag.

Instant millionaire.

The Night Shift: Meow Podcast & Butt O’Clock:

Finally, I drifted off to dreamland and actually slept beautifully… until 4 a.m. when the Meow Podcast dropped a surprise episode.

Special guest stars? Two furry divas with tails, arguing about tuna and launching Butt in Face, Volume 65: The Deluxe Edition.

Do I complain?

No.

I take it as my destiny.

Some women wake up to the smell of croissants in Paris.

I wake up to a cat arse two inches from my nose.

Same vibes.

Luckily, my amazing boyfriend gave me a cuddle before leaving for work, and let me tell you - his cuddles could cure world hunger.

They’re like being wrapped in a freshly baked loaf of sourdough bread.

I melted.

Then, as any sensible woman on Mounjaro would, I rolled straight back into bed.

Because I could.

Coffee, Collagen & Consequences:

The morning brew? Coffee with collagen.

Sounds bougie, right?

Wrong.

My stomach said, “Nice try, sweetheart” and responded with queasiness.

So instead of my usual eggs and bacon, I had a tiny Graze protein bar (basically a snack for a squirrel) and some ginger tea.

That was my breakfast.

Michelin-star dining right there.

Lunch/dinner didn’t arrive until 3 p.m., courtesy of Mr. Appetite Suppression a.k.a.

Dose 7.5.

Honestly, 7.5 is like an overenthusiastic babysitter: “Nope, you don’t need food, let’s do crafts instead!” Except crafts = nausea.

So I reheated some carrot and chili soup, and yeah - it was fine.

Not thrilling.

Definitely not Instagram-worthy.

And naturally, it made me queasy again.

MORE GINGER.

At this point, ginger should really sponsor me. I could be their brand ambassador. “JABatha Christie: Fighting nausea one chewy lump of ginger at a time.”

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow?

Because nausea wasn’t enough excitement for one day, I decided to panic-order hair rescue products.

Why?

Because if my head decides to eject my hair like it’s filing for divorce, I want to be prepared.

Honestly, the number of potions, oils, and scalp serums I’ve bought could open a small apothecary.

Meanwhile, I’m peeing every 14 seconds.

Truly Olympic levels.

Guinness World Records, are you listening?

If peeing were a sport, I’d be in the finals by now, gold medal around my neck, bladder holding a tiny victory flag.

But hey - maybe that 1.5lbs I mysteriously gained last week was just water. Half of it’s already flushed away, and the other half is queueing.

Work Shenanigans:

Now, let’s talk about work.

Oof.

Not the best day.

Something was off.

Atmosphere = strange.

People whispering.

Secrets in the air.

And let me tell you - I hate secrets unless they involve surprise puppies, cake, or winning lottery tickets.

Otherwise?

Spill the tea, Brenda.

Retail Therapy Olympics:

After work stress, I did what any sane, responsible adult would do: shopped like a woman possessed.

New Body Composition Scale – because clearly my three existing scales are lying, conspiring, and possibly plotting against me.

ADHD said, “Buy another one with bells and whistles.”

Done.

New Smartwatch – because the Apple Watch is trash (don’t @ me, Steve Jobs). Battery lasts 3 hours max, then dies dramatically like it’s auditioning for a soap opera.

My FitBits? Rubbish too.

I own three.

Don’t ask.

So I bought a new cheap-but-sexy smartwatch, and guess what? It’s already outperforming the lot of them.

Honestly, at this point, I could open a tech museum.

Admission: one ginger chew.

Friday Night Dreams:

By the time I logged off work (hallelujah), I bought myself some lottery tickets. If I win that £46 million jackpot, say goodbye to me.

I’m buying a private island in the Maldives, complete with cats who (hopefully) don’t aim their butts at my face at 4 a.m.

Picture it: me, sun-lounger, ginger cocktail, hair still intact thanks to rescue potions, and a brand-new waterproof smartwatch that actually works.

Bliss.

The Final Thought:

So yeah - that was Friday.

Nausea, soup betrayal, retail therapy, pee marathons, and lottery dreams.

Let’s hope tomorrow, the nausea packs up its squatter bags and leaves me alone.

But knowing my luck, it’ll just move to the spare bedroom.

Until then: ginger chews, don’t fail me now.

With Love and Queasy Glamour,

JABatha Christie