Apparently the universe decided my next hobby should be taking care of my health.
I wasn’t consulted.
I would have preferred something more enjoyable, like redecorating a room, buying another unnecessary but beautiful object, or raising Bengal cats who judge me from high places. But no. Instead, here I am having deep philosophical conversations with an apple and peanut butter toast.
And strangely enough… the toast is winning.
Not long ago, I was the girl who could demolish a Costco apple pie and walk away without gaining an ounce.
Today I took a few bites of an apple and peanut butter toast and had to stop because I was full.
If that doesn’t tell you something strange is happening, I don’t know what does.
Lately my life has included words I never thought I’d say out loud: health journey.
It sounds very inspirational when other people say it. When it applies to you, it mostly just means your body has decided it would appreciate some better decisions.
After dealing with some health issues and surgery ahead, I found myself making changes I probably should have made a long time ago. And yes… that includes the shot everyone talks about.
Ozempic.
Before anyone asks — yes, it works. The appetite suppression is real. The scale moves. Science clearly understood the assignment.
But no one talks much about the weird side of it.
For me, it makes me feel a little… sad.
Not dramatically sad. Not in a cry-on-the-floor kind of way. Just a quiet sort of sadness that’s hard to explain. Maybe it’s the adjustment. Maybe it’s the strange feeling of suddenly not recognizing your relationship with food anymore.
Food used to be simple.
You ate when you were hungry. You didn’t think about it. It didn’t feel like a negotiation.
Now every bite feels like a small decision.
And then there’s the weight itself.
Fifty pounds.
When you say it quickly, it doesn’t sound like much. But when you carry it around every single day, it feels like hauling a small mountain everywhere you go.
Stairs notice it.
Your knees notice it.
Your energy definitely notices it.
So here I am — somewhere between the girl who could eat an entire Costco apple pie without consequences and the woman who now stares suspiciously at a slice of toast because apparently that’s enough food for the morning.
Life is funny like that.
The girl who never had to think about food is learning to think about it.
The woman who once had endless energy is learning how to rebuild it.
And the person who has always been a little “A Bri Too Much” is learning that sometimes the most unexpected projects are the ones that matter the most.
This isn’t a dramatic transformation story.
It’s just another chapter.
One where I’m trying to take better care of myself, listen to my body a little more, and maybe put down the metaphorical Costco apple pie once in a while.
Although let’s not get carried away.
I’m still Bri.
Just… slightly more aware of my apple and peanut butter toast.
Healthier? Hopefully.
Less dramatic? Absolutely not.
After all… I’m still A Bri Too Much. 🐆