Week 12 Weigh-in - dose 7.5mg

Oct 9
3 min read

The Case of the Disappearing Me (Down 25.8 lbs!)

Twelve weeks.

Three months.

84 days of needles, nausea, dry heaving, and cats sitting on my bladder - and yet… here we are.

Another 2 lbs gone this week, bringing me to a grand total of 25.8 lbs, well nearly 26, (11.7 kg) vanished into thin air.

That’s nearly 2 stone!

TWO STONE!

Madness.

Actual madness.

That’s basically a medium-sized toddler, a hefty bowling ball, or almost 26 blocks of butter that I’ve somehow been lugging around like a human Sainsbury’s delivery crate.

I had to Google “what does 26 lbs look like” because the scale says one thing, but my brain’s still waiting for a fanfare, confetti, and a personal note from the universe saying “You’re officially lighter, queen!”

Spoiler: Google did not disappoint.

Apparently, 26 lbs equals:

100 sticks of butter (so basically, an entire French bakery)

2 large domestic cats (so Ruby and Molly combined - though I’d never let them go, even for slimmer thighs)

A fully packed rucksack for a Duke of Edinburgh expedition (complete with regret and wet socks)

Three gallons of water (because why not be dramatic?)

A carry-on suitcase filled with all the clothes that no longer fit me properly

Imagine carrying two judgmental cats, a suitcase, and 100 sticks of butter around every day. No wonder my knees used to sound like a haunted door hinge.

When I think about it, it’s mad what’s happened in 12 weeks.

I’ve lost almost two stone in what feels like the blink of a watery, Mounjaro-induced retching eye.

I started this journey thinking “I’ll just try it for a bit” - next thing you know, I’m shedding pounds faster than a dodgy hair extension in the wind.

Don’t get me wrong, it hasn’t been all rainbows and size-down jeans.

Oh no.

There’s been dry heaving, nausea, cold spells so brutal I could join the Night’s Watch, and an intimate relationship with ginger tea.

My immune system has thrown tantrums, my stomach has filed HR complaints, and my poor boyfriend has developed the patience of a monk watching me gag mid-sentence.

But the results speak for themselves.

I can actually see my jawline again (hello old friend).

My clothes fit better - some even too well (the tragic moment when your leggings betray you by falling mid-walk).

My energy’s creeping back (when I’m not coughing or retching, that is).

And mentally, it’s giving main character reawakening after a training montage.

The funniest thing is how people react when they find out.

“You’ve lost HOW much?!” they gasp, as if I’ve dropped a small human down a well.

“Where did it all go?”

Great question, Brenda.

I imagine it’s living peacefully somewhere, eating biscuits and plotting its comeback.

I’m genuinely proud though.

I’ve done this while juggling full-time work, endless medical appointments, a rebellious deltoid muscle, and two cats who think the scale is a new form of furniture.

The discipline, the humour, the sheer stubbornness - it’s giving Olympic-level perseverance.

If you told me three months ago that I’d be two stone lighter, I’d have laughed, coughed, and probably retched a bit.

But here we are.

Me, 25.8 lbs down, slightly nauseous, but still fabulous.

And let’s be honest - the mental transformation is as real as the physical one.

I’m not chasing perfection; I’m chasing peace.

The peace of not being controlled by food, or fatigue, or frustration.

The peace of seeing progress and actually believing in it.

So yes, I may be cold all the time, my deltoid may be broken, and my relationship with my digestive system may be strained, but I feel lighter - inside and out.

Here’s to 12 weeks of chaos, courage, and cat cuddles.

Here’s to losing two entire Ruby-and-Molly-sized bundles of fluff.

Here’s to finding myself again - one jab, one gag, and one laugh at a time.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to Google what losing 30 lbs equals. Because at this rate, I’ll soon be one houseplant away from floating off into space.

With Love,

JABatha Christie

The Case of the Disappearing Me (Down 25.8 lbs!)

Twelve weeks.

Three months.

84 days of needles, nausea, dry heaving, and cats sitting on my bladder - and yet… here we are.

Another 2 lbs gone this week, bringing me to a grand total of 25.8 lbs, well nearly 26, (11.7 kg) vanished into thin air.

That’s nearly 2 stone!

TWO STONE!

Madness.

Actual madness.

That’s basically a medium-sized toddler, a hefty bowling ball, or almost 26 blocks of butter that I’ve somehow been lugging around like a human Sainsbury’s delivery crate.

I had to Google “what does 26 lbs look like” because the scale says one thing, but my brain’s still waiting for a fanfare, confetti, and a personal note from the universe saying “You’re officially lighter, queen!”

Spoiler: Google did not disappoint.

Apparently, 26 lbs equals:

100 sticks of butter (so basically, an entire French bakery)

2 large domestic cats (so Ruby and Molly combined - though I’d never let them go, even for slimmer thighs)

A fully packed rucksack for a Duke of Edinburgh expedition (complete with regret and wet socks)

Three gallons of water (because why not be dramatic?)

A carry-on suitcase filled with all the clothes that no longer fit me properly

Imagine carrying two judgmental cats, a suitcase, and 100 sticks of butter around every day. No wonder my knees used to sound like a haunted door hinge.

When I think about it, it’s mad what’s happened in 12 weeks.

I’ve lost almost two stone in what feels like the blink of a watery, Mounjaro-induced retching eye.

I started this journey thinking “I’ll just try it for a bit” - next thing you know, I’m shedding pounds faster than a dodgy hair extension in the wind.

Don’t get me wrong, it hasn’t been all rainbows and size-down jeans.

Oh no.

There’s been dry heaving, nausea, cold spells so brutal I could join the Night’s Watch, and an intimate relationship with ginger tea.

My immune system has thrown tantrums, my stomach has filed HR complaints, and my poor boyfriend has developed the patience of a monk watching me gag mid-sentence.

But the results speak for themselves.

I can actually see my jawline again (hello old friend).

My clothes fit better - some even too well (the tragic moment when your leggings betray you by falling mid-walk).

My energy’s creeping back (when I’m not coughing or retching, that is).

And mentally, it’s giving main character reawakening after a training montage.

The funniest thing is how people react when they find out.

“You’ve lost HOW much?!” they gasp, as if I’ve dropped a small human down a well.

“Where did it all go?”

Great question, Brenda.

I imagine it’s living peacefully somewhere, eating biscuits and plotting its comeback.

I’m genuinely proud though.

I’ve done this while juggling full-time work, endless medical appointments, a rebellious deltoid muscle, and two cats who think the scale is a new form of furniture.

The discipline, the humour, the sheer stubbornness - it’s giving Olympic-level perseverance.

If you told me three months ago that I’d be two stone lighter, I’d have laughed, coughed, and probably retched a bit.

But here we are.

Me, 25.8 lbs down, slightly nauseous, but still fabulous.

And let’s be honest - the mental transformation is as real as the physical one.

I’m not chasing perfection; I’m chasing peace.

The peace of not being controlled by food, or fatigue, or frustration.

The peace of seeing progress and actually believing in it.

So yes, I may be cold all the time, my deltoid may be broken, and my relationship with my digestive system may be strained, but I feel lighter - inside and out.

Here’s to 12 weeks of chaos, courage, and cat cuddles.

Here’s to losing two entire Ruby-and-Molly-sized bundles of fluff.

Here’s to finding myself again - one jab, one gag, and one laugh at a time.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to Google what losing 30 lbs equals. Because at this rate, I’ll soon be one houseplant away from floating off into space.

With Love,

JABatha Christie

Comments