The Bit Mounjaro Can't Do For Me
Not hungry, three hours after dinner, stomach still growling, and yet stood at the fridge wanting something I couldn't name. That's when it stopped being obvious where the medication ends and I begin.
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80 posts, newest first. Page 5 of 8.
When My Guts Finally Stopped Complaining
No fanfare, no milestone. Just a week where I realised I hadn't thought about my stomach once. Three months in, that felt like the real progress.
Residual Self Image
The scales say I've lost weight. So did my jeans. But when I look in the mirror I still see the belly, and I'm starting to wonder whether I'm looking at me, or at the me I expect to see.
Office Temptation
The office kitchen rarely has treats in it. When it does, it's grossly unfair. And this time the treats never seem to run out.
Reframing
I'd been telling myself I'd lost about a stone. Then I did the sum, and realised how much a number depends on the story you tell around it.
The Final Course
Three roast potatoes and a Yorkshire pudding left on the plate, half the crackling handed to the dogs, and then the real test: a Sunday dinner with no pudding to follow.
A Couple More Clicks
The scales didn't tell me. The jeans did. Halfway round a woodland walk, my wife pointed out my trousers were on their way to my knees, and the belt had to click a lot further than I'm used to.
Bubble Trouble
Last Friday I used a syringe for the golden dose. Drawing it up was easy. Getting the needle in far enough turned out to be the part I got wrong.
Two Different Engines
She's tried every diet going, and only Mounjaro has ever worked for her. I never needed her to change. What I hadn't understood, until I started taking it myself, was how differently the two of us actually experience food.
Days Since Last KitKat
A workplace safety sign for the only hazard that actually threatens this operation.