There’s this quiet pressure we carry as women — to fix ourselves.
Fix the weight.
Fix the hormones.
Fix the fatigue.
Fix the fact that we feel overwhelmed by responsibilities. We pretend everything’s fine on the surface.
And for a while, I bought into that narrative too. Every new diet, every workout plan, every container of chia seeds felt like another try to “sort myself out.”
Between the 6am workouts and my daughter’s “elongated semi-ovals” commentary, I found clarity. My third scale lit up silently with encouragement. I realised: I’m not broken. I’m just evolving.
Starting Mounjaro wasn’t about fixing myself. It was about backing myself.
Backing myself to say, “This is hard, and I deserve support.”
Backing myself to stop gas-lighting my own body.
I am backing myself to get out of survival mode. I want to enter thrive mode. I need a little pharmaceutical help.
Because here’s the truth: I’ve spent years cheering other people on. Coaching them through burnout, big life changes, career transitions — telling them they are enough. That their struggle doesn’t make them weak. That asking for help is strength, not surrender.
It was time I practiced what I preached.
So no, I’m not chasing perfection. I’m not trying to be a 2.0 version of my twenty-something self. I’m not detoxing or disappearing into an array of smoothies. I’m building something stronger: self-trust.
This journey involves the workouts, the fasting attempts, and the medication. It includes the small wins and the not-so-small wobbles. It’s all part of a bigger shift. I’m not redesigning my life because it broke. I’m redesigning it because I outgrew the version that only celebrated me when I was shrinking.
Now? I celebrate every sweaty workout, every inch of space reclaimed in my waistband, every scale that cheers me on. Because they’re not measuring my worth. They’re measuring my return — to myself.
And that, lovely one, is the work that really matters.
