Week 18 Weigh-in - dose 10mg

Weigh-In Week 18: The Tale Of The DISAPPEARING JABatha

My darlings, gather round.

Week 18 has arrived, and once again the scales have spoken, beeped, flashed, and declared: another 2.2lbs has left my body like a disgruntled tenant who finally realised they haven’t paid rent since 2016.

This brings the grand total to a deliriously theatrical:

30.9lbs lost

14 entire kilograms evicted from my person - the equivalent of an ENTIRELY UNNECESSARY amount of mass that I will now compare to random objects for your entertainment:

THE “WHAT DID JABatha JUST LOSE?!” SECTION

Because, honestly, numbers mean nothing until someone tells you it’s shaped like something ridiculous.

This week alone, the weight I lost (2.2lbs) equals:

• A full-sized bag of sugar that could knock someone out if thrown in anger.

• A hedgehog with attitude.

• Half a chihuahua (the small, shaky ones whose only crime is existing).

• Two iPads.

• A newborn baby who already has opinions.

And the total 30.9lbs / 14kg lost equals:

• A microwave, the reliable kitchen friend that always looks disappointed in your food choices.

• A cocker spaniel, the type that would definitely steal your sandwich and then look remorseful.

• 28 bottles of wine… which explains why my liver is now probably applauding.

• One fully-packed Ryanair carry-on (the illegal weight one that makes the staff squint).

• A stack of 70 McVitie’s Chocolate Digestive packs.

• A medium-sized toddler who runs everywhere and screams “NO!” at strangers.

Honestly, at this point I’m expecting to step on the scale and discover I’ve shed a partridge in a pear tree.

BODY CONFIDENCE RESTORED: A Renaissance

You know what hits different?

People noticing.

Not the subtle, British, “Have you done something with your hair?”

No, no.

These are the proper compliments:

“OMG YOU’RE SHRINKING.”

“You look AMAZING.”

“Your waist!??!!?”

“You’re giving ‘new season, new character arc’ energy.”

One friend gasped so dramatically I thought they had dropped their vape down a drain. Oh wait... that was my boyfriend and his phone. Yes, dropped it down a drain...No words.

And honestly?

I’m lapping it up like a cat drinking spilled milk next to a toppled cereal bowl.

Compliments?

YES.

More?

Don’t mind if I do.

THE RETURN OF THE SKINTIGHT ERA

Let it be known internationally:

I can wear tight and snuggly clothes again.

That slinky top I bought in 2022 “for later”?

It FITS.

It doesn’t cling like a desperate ex.

It sits on me like it’s REHEARSED.

My jeans? Oh - sweetie, I pulled them up without doing the “jean dance of desperation.”

I didn’t have to lie on the bed.

I didn’t have to inhale like the vacuum cleaner.

And the best part…

Even my knee-high boots are loose.

LOOSE.

Boots that once required a two-person zip-up operation now slip on like I’m starring in a shampoo commercial.

I swear I could fit an entire Tesco meal deal down them and still have space for a packet of Wotsits.

A MESSAGE FROM FUTURE JABatha

Somewhere out there, Future Me is already planning outfits.

She’s standing in a changing room under violently unflattering lighting, holding something tight, ribbed, stretchy, impractical, and 100% adorable, whispering:

“Try me… you KNOW you want to.”

And guess what?

Present Me CAN.

Present Me WILL.

Present Me has thighs that no longer stage a violent protest every time leather enters the building.

THE GRAND CONCLUSION

Week 18 has proven once again:

Mounjaro is not just helping me lose weight.

It is assisting in the return of my main character energy.

I feel lighter.

I feel sassier.

I feel like if I walked past a plate of biscuits, THEY would feel insecure.

So here we go - into Week 19 - armed with shrinking thighs, loose boots, tight tops, and enough confidence to fuel a small European nation.

Onward we glide, my darlings. JABatha Christie continues.

With Love,

JABatha Christie