Week 2 on Ozempic: Weight Loss, Food Cravings, and Hilarious Struggles

Week 2 – Stats

Ozempic Dosage: 0.25ml – Injected with just a touch less suspicion than last week.

Start Weight: 114.3kg (251.98 lbs.)

End Weight: 112.7kg (248.48 lbs.)

Total Weight Loss: 1.6kg (3.52 lbs.)

Exercise: I moved. A little. It counts.

Energy Level: Somewhere between “could use a defibrillator” and “would consider blinking if necessary.”

Mood: Unstable. Like a toddler in the middle of a nap strike.

Hunger Levels: Lower. My brain still isn’t quite convinced.

Mental Focus: I forgot what I was saying halfway through this sentence.

Water to Coffee Ratio: 1:10. You’re lucky I’m drinking water at all.

Scale Attitude: Still rude. I’m clearly not getting the results I deserve.

Clothing Situation: My clothes are in deep denial. They’ve got some serious self-esteem issues.

The Dog is Holding an Intervention

Let me break it to you gently: the snack buffet is officially CLOSED.

My dog? He’s devastated. Gone are the days of half-eaten toast crumbs, random cheese cubes, and the 5-second rule (for him, anyway). This betrayal has hit him harder than a season finale twist.

Brandy (yes, named after a stripper—don’t judge) was once a ray of sunshine. Lately, though, he’s been giving me the kind of dramatic sighs you only see in Oscar-winning performances. Seriously, if I could hand him a trophy, he’d win Best Supporting Actor in a Tragedy.

And the worst offense? I finished my meal. No leftovers.

Brandy stared at me as if I’d canceled Christmas. He was crushed.

I’m a MONSTER!

The Kitchen: A Barren Wasteland

The real casualty in this Ozempic journey? My kitchen.

Gone are the crumbs, the spills, the unholy late-night toast sessions that left a breadcrumb trail across the counter like some kind of carb-filled breadcrumb map to my doom.

Last night, I walked into the kitchen, and I swear—there was a cockroach just hanging from the cupboard handle. He locked eyes with me, sighed deeply, and muttered, “Tell my family I tried.”

Enter the Snackocalypse—the end of an era!

The Scale: Still a Rude Bitch

I did the work. I sacrificed my love for reckless snacking. I drank water (okay, coffee mostly—but still, it counts). I even moved my body like a semi-functioning adult.

And then the scale... oh, the scale... 

gave me 112.7kg.

1.6kg lost.

That’s it?!

After two weeks of torturing myself, resisting temptation, and almost becoming a fitness influencer just by moving slightly more than a sloth? And this is what I get?

I stared at the scale like it had just insulted my mother. “Maybe I misstepped? Maybe the scale is broken? Maybe it's having a moment?” I thought.

I stepped off, took a deep breath, and tried again.

112.7kg.

Is this a prank? Am I on a hidden camera show?

I Tried Watching MasterChef... It Did Not Go Well

I made a fatal mistake this week. I thought I could casually watch food shows without it wrecking my self-control. I was wrong!

Six minutes into MasterChef Australia and I was ready to sell my soul for duck confit. I had never tasted it, but who needs logic when there’s a slow-motion shot of caramel drizzling over something?

Next thing I knew, I was googling “how hard is it to make fresh ravioli” like I was going to quit my day job and open a Michelin-starred restaurant.

By the time they plated the food and the judges started describing things as “silky” and “velvety,” I was drooling like a rabid raccoon.

Had to turn it off immediately. For my own safety.

Food television is now a threat to my mental health. This is my new reality.

Concentration? Who Is She?

This week, I sat down to work. I opened my laptop. I immediately forgot why I opened it.

This is my brain on Ozempic: it’s like I’m living in an endless buffering loop.

I tried to write an email and found myself on my phone, randomly watching a 15-minute documentary about a man who collects rare spoons.

Then I tried reading email and had to re-read the same sentence three times. The best part? I had no idea what I was reading.

Even simple conversations are now a struggle. My friend started telling me a story about her weekend, and my brain just went... “?????”

At this point, I’m considering walking around with sticky notes just to remind myself how to function.

Hunger Is Fading, But My Mood Is Unstable

Here’s the silver lining: I’m no longer constantly obsessing about food. I used to plan my entire day around my next snack. Now, hours go by, and I’m not even hungry.

But here’s the catch: My blood sugar and emotions? Not on the same page.

One minute, I’m fine. The next, I’m an emotional goblin trying to navigate a dramatic meltdown because I’m hungry and can’t find my snack. It’s a rapid transformation from “Everything’s fine” to “GET OUT OF MY WAY, I NEED FOOD.”

So if you see me standing in front of an open fridge, just mind your business. I’m not looking for answers. I’m looking for a reason to exist.

The Week Ahead: Will I Gain Superpowers or More Confusion?

Looking ahead to next week:
✅ Move more. I’ll try my best.
✅ Find a way to focus for more than 30 seconds.
✅ Avoid food TV at all costs.
✅ Mentally prepare for whatever fresh hell the scale decides to deliver.

Will I finally stabilize my mood? Will my dogs forgive me for ruining their snack party? Will I drink more water than coffee? Stay tuned. The Ozempic journey is far from over.