Week 8 Weigh In

Mounjaro life

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Today marks the end of week seven of MJ. (If you want to read about week 1 and my weigh in after 7 days on MJ, then you can do so here, week 2 here, week 3 here, week 4 here, week 5 here, week 6 here and how annoying week 7 was here).

I’ve had to move provider for my meds. Well, I haven’t had to, but if I wanted to save money I did. And I always need to save money. Don’t we all? Pretty much all MJ providers offer a new customer discount code, so you’re stuck moving from pharmacy to pharmacy every month. It’s annoying but the savings are big enough to keep me flitting about. The thing is this new provider wanted photo evidence of my girth. They asked for a photo of the scales with a hand written piece of paper with the date on. Then you have to hold the same piece of paper whilst standing sideways on, full body in shot AND they want you in tight fitting clothes.

This has caused me no end of stress. The scales photo was no problem. But the side on full body shot? Ugh. The only very tight clothes I own are control leggings and the like, so not really fit for purpose, as this photo isn’t about looking as slim as possible, it’s about looking as like me as possible. So I resigned myself to needing to have the photo taken in my underwear. Then who to take it? They say a selfie is fine in a mirror but I don’t have a mirror that’s big enough for a full body shot. I could get my neck to knees in, but what if they say no, that they want my face and feet? I don’t want to enter into a dialogue about photos. The only other souls in the house are the cat, the dog, my youngest son and my boyfriend. The first two aren’t in possession of opposable thumbs so they’re useless. Lawrence is off the cards; he’s already got divorced parents, he doesn’t need any more therapy fodder. (Imagine: “Sorry, so when you were 10 your mother stripped to her underwear and made you take photos to procure injectables? How did that make you feel?”) So The Boyfriend it was. And it’s just not the stuff romance is made of, is it? “Drop your shoulders a bit and slouch, your stomach looks bigger that way”. What a life eh?

(A photo of me with clothes on, in fact, wearing a dress I made myself).

Anyway, the photos are taken and sent, I await a dispatch email. In the meantime I’ve been thinking a lot about Clover Stroud’s questions about MJ. A quick recap:

Do the physical changes feel manageable or slightly scary? Does it feel worth swapping constipation (that sounds bad!!) for weight loss? Also, the exhaustion, how do you manage that? Also, what does food taste like now? Does it taste kind of gross? I am so curious to hear more!!

Okay, so here goes:

The physical changes have been neither manageable or scary, more interesting, if that doesn’t sound too academic and removed. I think as a woman we’re very used to seeing how our bodies react to forces out of our control (Or rather very much in my control in this instance).

I remember my first period and the shock of the contraction type pain as I lay on my side, knees curled up, surely this couldn’t be right? I remember the first time I had my heart broken and the pressure in my chest, the ripping of something intangible and yet so clearly and literally felt in my body. And then babies… ah! Those first flutterings of movement in my belly with each baby, the kicks, the hiccups felt from within. Then labour and the animal like cleaver pain wrenching me apart. The empty thin skinned stomach deflated when the babies were earth side. The ringing in my skull when the babies cried to be fed, the let down reflex as milk travelled through my body, my breasts so huge and tender and full to burst. Later the heat and fever and guilt of stopping breast feeding. Years on the alien understanding of poison in my body the day before I miscarried. The sweating and fire of peri-menopause, the relief as periods come less and less frequently, the less f*cks given as my hormones change and re-balance into this new Act.

It’s all been scary but ultimately manageable. So with MJ, I’ve done what I’ve always done when it comes to the corporeal, I’ve researched and crowd sourced like a woman possessed. I cannot tell you how much comfort Reddit forums have given me. Every single sensation I’ve experienced I’ve popped into the search bar. So, the constipation, yes, it’s a worry. For some it’s a huge issue resulting in trips to hospital. But then when you drill down into these discussions, the folks affected haven’t been drinking much water, they’ve not been eating much fruit and veg or any fibre really. They’ve been eating protein and drinking protein and of course their body gets bunged up. I’d hazard a guess that this would happen following a protein rich diet even without MJ.

Me? I don’t drink enough water, I never have. But I make an effort now, because a manual removal is not my idea of a good time. I drink a lot of electrolyte spiked water, I enjoy an alcohol free beer a couple of times a week, I eat a lot of apples and tomatoes and lentils. All stuff to keep everything travelling through my system at the rate it should. The constipating effects of MJ have to be negotiated on a very personal basis. For me (and many others, so I’ve read) it’s been life changing, in that I just don’t have any IBS related issues at all now. If I didn’t have that as a background I’d probably up my fibre and water more.

Now, the exhaustion. It’s so much better than it was. Until recently, every afternoon I’d have this crash that felt almost like those first weeks of dead on your feet pregnancy tiredness. It was irritating. I’m not sure exactly when it stopped (maybe week 5 ish) but as I went to write about this side effect I realised I don’t have it anymore. It’s just gone. I mean, I get tired if I’ve not slept or I’ve done loads of exercise, but just standard stuff.

Now, onto the taste of food. My taste buds have changed. Lots. But I’m okay with it. I think I’ve finally accepted that I had an addiction to junk food and sugar. I used to eat secretly, often hiding the things I really wanted to keep to myself or stopping at drive throughs and binning the evidence before returning home. I’d wait until my boyfriend went to bed and then binge on cheese, bread, butter, Double Deckers… I was very clearly ashamed of my behaviour because I didn’t do it in public. I was embarrassed by my appetite. But I was never satiated. Always wanting more. It felt like a pit that couldn’t ever be filled, as I shovelled more food in, another crater emerged.

MJ seems to have recalibrated my system. I don’t crave junk food. I don’t find it disgusting. I’m just kind of indifferent to it. I do crave really crisp apples. They taste unbelievably sweet to me. I also crave satay chicken and edamame. That’s my takeaway meal of choice now. I quite like a chocolate protein bar, but find them extremely filling, so have learnt the hard way to limit myself to one a day. My appetite is so reduced, every mouthful must be lovely or it’s a wasted opportunity. (And yes, yes I am concerned about whether I will go back to being perpetually hungry when I come off MJ. I am researching maintenance heavily).

Yesterday evening we ate in a chain Italian restaurant as our local independent couldn’t squeeze us in. When my prawn pasta dish arrived I felt so disappointed. It was sad looking. I was hungry, so I knew I’d eat it, but it was a missed opportunity. If we’d have managed to get into our local Italian I’d have ordered the slow cooked chicken with their garlic and chilli broccoli on the side, and probably shared a cheeseboard for pudding. In fact just thinking about that now is making me want to book a table. So, no, food doesn’t taste gross. I am just so much more mindful (to use an awfully overused and abused word) of what I put in my mouth.

So, the weigh in. Are you ready?