Week 52 Weigh-in - dose 7.5mg

Weekly Weigh-In: Week 52 - My Scales Have Finally Decided To Apologise

Can we all just take a moment to appreciate how unbelievably dramatic the human body can be?

Honestly.

If my body had a Facebook status, it would permanently read:

“It’s complicated.”

Last week, I stepped on the scales and was greeted by a number I definitely hadn’t invited.

+6.6 lbs.

Six point six.

Not six ounces.

Not “maybe I’ve had a big dinner.”

A proper, full-on, “have I accidentally swallowed a small Labrador?” six point six pounds.

Now before anyone says, “Weight fluctuates…”

I know.

Trust me, I know.

There was a perfectly sensible explanation.

I’d been ill for weeks.

The kind of ill where simply getting dressed feels like an Olympic event.

I’d also stayed on 5mg for quite a while because I was trying to come off Mounjaro gradually rather than stopping it overnight.

Completely sensible.

Completely planned.

Unfortunately, my appetite apparently interpreted that as:

“Excellent. The supervisor has gone home. Open the snack department.”

To be fair, I wasn’t exactly living my healthiest life.

I wasn’t running marathons.

I wasn’t meal prepping.

I wasn’t skipping through fields eating kale.

I was mostly existing.

Some days that felt like enough.

Even knowing exactly why I’d gained the weight didn’t stop my brain doing what brains love doing…

Panicking.

Isn’t it amazing how quickly your mind forgets months of progress?

You see one number on the scales and suddenly you’re convinced you’ve somehow travelled back in time.

It’s ridiculous.

One week you’re celebrating.

The next you’re standing on the scales three times because maybe…

Just maybe…

Gravity is having an off day.

I don’t know who I’m trying to fool either.

As if the scales are suddenly going to say,

“Oh sorry, our mistake. We accidentally included your dressing gown.”

Then came the decision.

Back onto 7.5mg.

Now…

I’d forgotten just how quickly this dose gets to work.

My appetite didn’t just disappear.

It packed a suitcase.

Booked a one-way flight.

Changed its phone number.

Food?

Could take it or leave it.

Snacks?

No thanks.

Random trips to the fridge despite not actually being hungry?

Cancelled.

Unfortunately, something else decided to return.

The weird taste.

Oh hello, old friend.

Didn’t miss you.

Everything suddenly tastes…

confused.

Sweet things taste sweeter.

Salty things taste like they’ve been rolled around the Dead Sea.

Water somehow develops flavours it definitely didn’t have yesterday.

Coffee tastes like it’s questioning all my life choices.

It’s bizarre.

It’s as though my taste buds wake up every morning, hold a team meeting and collectively decide,

"Let’s make today interesting.”

Cheers.

Then came weigh-in day.

Now, if you lose weight every week without turning weigh-in into a full-blown ceremony, I genuinely admire you.

Mine involves removing everything that could possibly weigh more than a molecule.

Watch? Off.

Hair clip? Gone.

Phone? Obviously.

Breathing? Optional.

At this point I’d happily remove my eyelashes if I thought they’d save me another 0.1 lb.

Then…

The moment of truth.

-3.7 lbs.

YES!!

Ladies and gentlemen…

The comeback has begun.

That brings my total weight loss back to…

33.5 lbs (15.2 kg).

More importantly…

It reminded me that last week’s gain wasn’t failure.

It wasn’t me “falling off the wagon.”

It wasn’t proof that Mounjaro had suddenly stopped working.

It was exactly what you’d expect after weeks of illness, reduced activity and Staying on a lower dose while trying to come off the medication.

The scales simply reflected what my body had been through.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

The funny thing is, we can be incredibly kind to other people.

If a friend told us they’d gained weight because they’d been ill, we’d probably say,

“Give yourself a break.”

“It’s temporary.”

“You’ve been through a lot.”

But when it’s ourselves?

Different story.

We’re immediately convinced we’ve ruined everything.

Why do we do that?

This journey has taught me that weight loss isn’t a straight line.

It’s more like one of those ECG monitors they show in hospital.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

Occasionally flat while you wonder what’s going on.

Then suddenly everything starts moving again.

Some weeks your body is an absolute superstar.

Other weeks it behaves like a toddler who’s missed their afternoon nap.

You just have to keep showing up.

So yes…

I’m delighted to see those 3.7 lbs disappear.

Not because the number itself is magical.

But because it’s a reminder that one bad week doesn’t erase a year’s worth of progress.

Sometimes your body simply needs a little nudge back in the right direction.

Mine apparently prefers being hit over the head with a 7.5mg pen.

Let’s just hope next week’s weigh-in is slightly less dramatic.

Although knowing my body…

I’m not ruling out another plot twist.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the last 52 weeks, it’s this…

The scales and I are in the most toxic relationship I’ve ever had.

Every week they break my heart.

Then apologise seven days later.

See you at Week 53… assuming my body hasn’t come up with another storyline by then. 🤦🏻‍♀️🤣💉

With Love,

JABatha Christie