Day 7: Reflux, Regret & The Revenge of the Protein Bowl

Slept like a log again. Woke up to a stomach throwing a tantrum , reflux that said "surprise bitch", and a headache that could take down a small village.

Legs? Absolutely furious after yesterday's 22,000 steps. I wasn't walking -

I was training for the Hunger Games apparently.

Breakfast: Protein Bow, Chapter 947. Send help.

Eggs - my old flame? Now make me gag. The betrayal runs deep...

Treated myself to my favourite bougie flat white from Notes because if

I can't enjoy food, I am at least going to enjoy pretending I am thriving.

Lunch? Wholemeal chicken and tomato sandwich. Took me TWO hours to eat it. It had the vibe of a breakup text in bread form.

Came home, opened the fridge like I was about to find answers. All I got was salt, sadness and snacks that taste like the inside of a cardboard box.

I used to inhale food like Henry the Hoover. Now? Just a disoriented shell of Hetty.

Dinner = yesterday's soup. Not even pretending to be excited.

It's Wednesday, aka Hump Day, and usually I would cave and head to the pub. But tonight? Absolutely not, Satan.

Binged First Dates and stared longingly at the calendar waiting for Stranger Things in October. (Justice for Eddie!!!). Anyone???

Alarm is set for 7am tomorrow because I am working from home (praise be). But let's not lie - my cats will be on my hip at 5am sharp like two furry tax collectors demanding Dreamies and eye contact.

Also, weigh-in day tomorrow. DUN DUN DUNNNN.

With Love,

JABatha Christie