Known as the wife of… remembered for everything after.
I lost weight on carnivore. Great. But that’s probably the least interesting thing it did for me. The real transformation happened somewhere no before-and-after photo can show: inside my head. Less noise. Stable energy. No constant battle with food. The weight loss was simply a bonus. The quiet mind is why I stayed.
I thought this story was about swapping my Audi for a Volkswagen. Turns out it was about something much bigger. Somewhere between Italian mountain roads, a manual gearbox, and two sleeping dogs, I realised I'd changed more than I thought.
Apparently, women my age are supposed to be talking about mood swings, sleepless nights and hot flashes. Meanwhile... I'm over here eating ribeyes, sleeping like a teenager, and wondering if my hormones forgot to read the memo. Karen says it's impossible. I call it Tuesday.
Since becoming a very small carnivore influencer, my Instagram feed has become one endless stream of perfectly cooked ribeyes... Which is great. Until people start eating them. Apparently, somewhere between buying the steak and taking the first bite, half the internet forgets how to hold a fork and knife. Maybe I'm old-fashioned. Maybe etiquette still matters. Or maybe carnivore has simply made me honest enough to say what everyone else is secretly thinking. Debbie says I'm judging. Karen says cutlery is probably toxic. I'm just trying to save the steak.
I started carnivore in my 40s, smeared everything from beef tallow to snail slime on my face, got side-eyed by Debbie and warned by Karen… and somehow ended up looking younger anyway.
I have a confession. I’m doing great on carnivore. Like… annoyingly great. No bloating.No stomach drama.No random “why do I feel like a balloon filled with regret?” moments. Just… peace. And somehow, that’s exactly the problem. Because every now and then, I find myself staring at something forbidden. A piece of chocolate.A warm sausage roll.Something [...]
The Woman Behind the Jersey 