I decided to do my first injection in the evening, hoping that any potential side effects might occur overnight rather than during the day. As a personal ritual, I had what I called my “last meal” — fried chicken. After reading more, I’m hoping this won’t turn out to be a mistake, but I wanted to savor it one last time before beginning this journey. Fried chicken has always tasted like happiness, like childhood, like being at my grandma’s house.

In my mind, I planned to wait until 9:00 PM — no special reason, but it felt like the right moment to start. But as I sat there unwinding from the day, it was only 8:15 PM, and somehow, I knew the time had come. I’d done all the prep work: talked to my doctor, read all the material I could find, asked my friend every question I could think of. I’d even weighed myself and taken progress photos the day before. I felt as ready as I’d ever be.

I got up from the couch and started down the stairs to get the injection pen from the fridge. With each step, I felt like I was descending into a basement flooded with anxiety. It felt as if I were walking toward some kind of life-changing moment, even a farewell. Reflecting on it now, I realize that I was saying goodbye to my old relationship with food. Changing that relationship is what this process is all about, and I know it won’t be easy.

When I reached the bedroom, I sat on the edge of the bed, feeling nervous. I uncapped the pen, placed it against my thigh, unlocked it, and took a deep breath before pressing the button. And just like that, it was over. The injection was done, and so was a big part of my anxiety for Day 0.