Week 19 Weigh-in - dose 10mg

Nov 27
3 min read

Weigh-In Week 19: The Saga of the Shrinking Woman Who Defied Physics & Still Got Called “Overweight” by BMI

Sit down.

Pour tea.

Maybe fetch a biscuit (for you, not me, I’m living on hope and protein yoghurt).

Because today, dear reader, marks Week 19 in my shrinking journey - a journey filled with victories, tantrums, suspiciously long bathroom weigh-ins, and the occasional emotional breakdown in front of a loaf of sourdough.

This week I lost… 0.8lbs.

Yes.

Less than a bag of sugar.

More than a polite fart.

Not enough to be dramatic about, yet absolutely enough for me to strut past reflective shop windows like I’m auditioning for Next Top Model: Calorie-Counting Edition.

And so, we tally the totals:

Total lost: 31.7lbs / 14.4kg
Starting weight: 194lbs
Current weight: 162.3lbs
BMI beginning: 30.1 (OBESE - why so loud, BMI chart??)
BMI now: 25.2 (apparently STILL OVERWEIGHT. Rude. The audacity. The disrespect.)

If BMI were a person, it would be that colleague who says “You look great!” then follows up with “…but you could tone up a bit more.”

I would like to have words.

Possibly involving swear ones.

Who invented this algorithm of heartbreak?!

Probably someone who enjoys kale too much.

Fashion Update: The Glow-Up Is Real

My wardrobe - previously a battlefield of elastic waistbands and stretchy forgiveness - now feels like a Paris runway.

Clothes that once screamed under tension now glide on like butter on warm toast (RIP toast, gone but not forgotten).

I have options.

I open my wardrobe and decide based on vibe, not based on “Which item won’t cut off circulation?”

This week I wore jeans AND SAT DOWN IN THEM.

With my zipper up.

Not even unbuttoned for sneaky breathing privileges.

This is art.

This is history.

This is evolution.

I even caught myself twirling in the mirror.

TWIRLING.

And you know what?

I looked fab.

My thighs didn’t argue.

My top didn’t climb into my armpits like a ferret seeking shelter.

Growth.

Joy.

Tight clothes that are supposed to be tight, not traumatised.

Meanwhile, My Food Brain Is Confused

My brain: We’re thin now! We deserve treats!

Also my brain: If you treat yourself, you won’t be thin!

Also also my brain: Maybe treat yourself for not treating yourself?

Conclusion: A constant negotiation more intense than Brexit.

Healthy eating is like dating a man - great when it works, but also exhausting, occasionally delusional, and often leaves you staring inside the fridge at 11pm whispering:

“Are you sure we don’t have cheese?”

Ridiculous Things My Lost Weight Equals To

Just to visualise the madness - I’ve shed 31.7lbs of pure JABatha mass.

That is the same as:

1 Large Cat + a bonus angry paw
70 McNuggets
2 rotisserie chickens + the manager judging you for buying a third
2.5 chihuahuas wearing tutus
10 hardback Harry Potter books
42 bottles of wine (which is… emotional)
3.5 tubs of Ben & Jerry’s family size (also emotional)
1 medium-sized child who refuses to walk anywhere
1 IKEA chair (assembly required, sanity not included)
A full Ryanair carry-on bag, stuffed with guilt and holiday outfits
Enough potatoes to feed an Irish family for a week
95 pairs of tight jeans I no longer need as motivation

Imagine carrying all that daily and then suddenly NOT.

No wonder I feel like a feather in a windstorm - majestic, unstable, and likely to drift.

Final Thoughts Before I Float Away

I may still be “overweight” by the stupid BMI chart,

but I am under-burdened,

over-proud,

and dangerously sexy in denim.

Next goal: get to BMI 24.9 so I can finally declare myself a medically acceptable human being.

Weigh-In Week 19: The Saga of the Shrinking Woman Who Defied Physics & Still Got Called “Overweight” by BMI

Sit down.

Pour tea.

Maybe fetch a biscuit (for you, not me, I’m living on hope and protein yoghurt).

Because today, dear reader, marks Week 19 in my shrinking journey - a journey filled with victories, tantrums, suspiciously long bathroom weigh-ins, and the occasional emotional breakdown in front of a loaf of sourdough.

This week I lost… 0.8lbs.

Yes.

Less than a bag of sugar.

More than a polite fart.

Not enough to be dramatic about, yet absolutely enough for me to strut past reflective shop windows like I’m auditioning for Next Top Model: Calorie-Counting Edition.

And so, we tally the totals:

Total lost: 31.7lbs / 14.4kg

Starting weight: 194lbs

Current weight: 162.3lbs

BMI beginning: 30.1 (OBESE - why so loud, BMI chart??)

BMI now: 25.2 (apparently STILL OVERWEIGHT. Rude. The audacity. The disrespect.)

If BMI were a person, it would be that colleague who says “You look great!” then follows up with “…but you could tone up a bit more.”

I would like to have words.

Possibly involving swear ones.

Who invented this algorithm of heartbreak?!

Probably someone who enjoys kale too much.

Fashion Update: The Glow-Up Is Real

My wardrobe - previously a battlefield of elastic waistbands and stretchy forgiveness - now feels like a Paris runway.

Clothes that once screamed under tension now glide on like butter on warm toast (RIP toast, gone but not forgotten).

I have options.

I open my wardrobe and decide based on vibe, not based on “Which item won’t cut off circulation?”

This week I wore jeans AND SAT DOWN IN THEM.

With my zipper up.

Not even unbuttoned for sneaky breathing privileges.

This is art.

This is history.

This is evolution.

I even caught myself twirling in the mirror.

TWIRLING.

And you know what?

I looked fab.

My thighs didn’t argue.

My top didn’t climb into my armpits like a ferret seeking shelter.

Growth.

Joy.

Tight clothes that are supposed to be tight, not traumatised.

Meanwhile, My Food Brain Is Confused

My brain: We’re thin now! We deserve treats!

Also my brain: If you treat yourself, you won’t be thin!

Also also my brain: Maybe treat yourself for not treating yourself?

Conclusion: A constant negotiation more intense than Brexit.

Healthy eating is like dating a man - great when it works, but also exhausting, occasionally delusional, and often leaves you staring inside the fridge at 11pm whispering:

“Are you sure we don’t have cheese?”

Ridiculous Things My Lost Weight Equals To

Just to visualise the madness - I’ve shed 31.7lbs of pure JABatha mass.

That is the same as:

1 Large Cat + a bonus angry paw

70 McNuggets

2 rotisserie chickens + the manager judging you for buying a third

2.5 chihuahuas wearing tutus

10 hardback Harry Potter books

42 bottles of wine (which is… emotional)

3.5 tubs of Ben & Jerry’s family size (also emotional)

1 medium-sized child who refuses to walk anywhere

1 IKEA chair (assembly required, sanity not included)

A full Ryanair carry-on bag, stuffed with guilt and holiday outfits

Enough potatoes to feed an Irish family for a week

95 pairs of tight jeans I no longer need as motivation

Imagine carrying all that daily and then suddenly NOT.

No wonder I feel like a feather in a windstorm - majestic, unstable, and likely to drift.

Final Thoughts Before I Float Away

I may still be “overweight” by the stupid BMI chart,

but I am under-burdened,

over-proud,

and dangerously sexy in denim.

Next goal: get to BMI 24.9 so I can finally declare myself a medically acceptable human being.

Until then - I remain your dramatically lighter, sarcastically slimmer,

JABatha Christie - solving the mystery of where the weight goes.

Week 20, I’m coming for you.

Slowly.

Elegantly.

Snack-begrudgingly.

With Love,

JABatha Christie

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