I started intermittent fasting not due to a grand health epiphany. Instead, it was because I was a working mum with back-to-back morning meetings and absolutely no time to eat. Breakfast became the first thing to go — unintentionally at first, then more structured. Before I knew it, I was riding out the 14:10 fasting wave like a pro. Then I levelled up to 16:8.
And truthfully? It suited me – for a while.
My stomach seemed to shrink, I wasn’t waking up hungry, and skipping breakfast didn’t feel like deprivation. It felt efficient. No one tells you the truth about intermittent fasting while juggling work, single parenting, and perimenopause. The challenge isn’t the fasting window. It’s the feeding window.
By the time my workday paused enough for me to grab something, it was already pushing 2pm. Then the real struggle began: trying to eat dinner before the fasting window slammed shut. That’s where things unraveled. Life rarely cooperates with an eating schedule. Homework, last-minute Tesco dashes, meetings that overran — dinner by 6pm? Almost laughable.
And while I didn’t resent food, I noticed a different tension. I have never resented food, and I never will. I love food. I began psyching myself up to eat things I’d never touched, even when I was my slimmest. These included chia puddings, flaxseed concoctions, and powders that promised to “cleanse” and “reset.” Things that sounded more like a chemistry experiment than a meal. The only thing those ingredients ever did was expire silently in the back of my cupboards. Months later, I’d find them during one of those “let’s be an adult” clear-out sessions. I would wonder what phase of life I thought I was in when I bought them.
Eventually, I realised that while intermittent fasting gave me structure, what I truly needed was support — real support. Not one-size-fits-all plans, not online gurus telling me to eat boiled chicken and enthusiasm. I needed something that worked with my life, not against it.
Enter: Mounjaro.
Let me be real — it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision. I did my research. The YouTube Juniper ads definitely planted the seed (marketing, you win this round). But it was my own coaching mindset that sealed it. I mentor others through big life shifts — helping them reach their goals with strategy, patience, and care. I realised I owed myself the same.
Choosing medication wasn’t weakness. It was a sign that I was done dragging myself through ways that didn’t match my life. I needed something to support my efforts, not replace them. And frankly, I wasn’t about to join any community that told me to start my day with celery juice.
This journey isn’t about “fixing” myself. It’s about giving myself permission to do things differently. Smartly. Kindly. With a little less guilt, and a lot more grace.
