The Diary of a Secret Jabber

Hello fellow jabbers! Week 2 Update: The McNuggets Massacre, Hula Hoop Humiliation & A Scale That Finally Approved of Me Well, Folks, I've survived week two of my secret mission relatively unscathed. First, we had The Great Fast Food Test. Picture this: me, my two goddaughters, and their super-glam, never-a-hair-out-of-place mother, sitting in front of a 20-piece nugget share box, amongst other delights. Normally, I'd be leading the charge, hoovering up at least 12 before anyone could blink. But this time? I managed three. THREE. I felt like I should announce it to the whole restaurant, "Look at me, resisting temptation! Somone pin a medal on me!" But instead, I had to come up with an excuse for my suspiciously uncharacteristic restraint. What do I say? "Oh, I already ate." (A lie) "I'm just not that hungry." (That would never wash) In the end, I just dramatically sighed and said,  "Chicken fatigue." Nobody questioned it. We move....

  Hello fellow jabbers! So, six days ago, I embarked on my Mounjaro journey, and so far, so good! Very few side effects—unless you count an intense desire to climb the scales like it's Mount Everest and whisper, “Be kind to me, you liar.” I’m 54, but in my head, I’m still 24. My body, however, is convinced we’re 74 and should probably be napping right now. But I refuse! I’ve got a grandbaby arriving this summer , and I fully intend to be the fun grandma —not the one who needs a snack and a sit-down after one game of peek-a-boo. Now, here’s the deal: I’m the fat friend everyone adores “just as I am.” The one who gets told, “Don’t change! You won’t be the same! We love you like this!” Meanwhile, I’m over here, internally screaming, “Great, but can I also love myself enough to not get winded tying my shoes?” So, this journey? Hush-hush. Top secret. Even my husband has no idea . My Mounjaro pen is stealthily hidden behind the fat-free salad dressing in the fridge—because let’s...