The boring truth about getting results

Week 15. I’m standing in my bathroom, IPL machine in hand, zapping the same stubborn patch of hair on my shin for what feels like the hundredth time. Going back to shaving a few months ago (you have to for the IPL to work) meant the hairs on my legs feel like little knives, prickly and painful to rub against each other. The hair is far coarser than it was before I started this whole thing – a delightful side effect of switching back to shaving after years of epilating.

Over the past few months, I’ve thought: “This is ridiculous. I’m paying for the privilege of making my legs feel worse.”

But here’s what I’m being reminded of 15 weeks in: this is exactly what real progress looks like.

Last winter, I gave up. Same machine, same bathroom, same stubborn hair. But somewhere around week 12 – when I “should” have been seeing results – I couldn’t see much difference, and the weekly sessions felt like a chore I was failing at. I packed the IPL away. “It doesn’t work,” I told myself. “At least not for me.”

This winter, I decided to stick it out.

Not because I felt more motivated – I didn’t.

Not because I suddenly loved the process – I don’t.

But because I was willing to find out what happened if I just kept going.

The magic isn’t in the motivation. It’s in the monotony.

Every week, I book the same 40-minute slot with myself. Every week, get into the same spot and work through the same routine. Sometimes I’m rushing because I’ve left it too late. Some weeks, I’m exhausted and just want to crawl into bed. Some weeks, I wonder if I’m wasting my time.

But I do it anyway.

And you know what? Around week 12, something shifted. Not dramatically – I’m not talking about some movie montage moment. Just … less hair. Patches where the regrowth was finer, sparser. Progress so gradual I almost missed it.

Week 15 now, and I can see it clearly. The progress is patchy – some areas are smooth, while others are still growing back – because hair grows at different rates, and the IPL catches different follicles at different stages. But the overall picture is undeniable: less hair, finer regrowth, actual results. The evidence is literally written on my legs: consistency beats intensity every single time.

This is the part nobody talks about when they’re selling you on change. The bit where it gets boring.

Where you’re doing the same thing over and over with no visible proof it’s working.

Where you start questioning whether you’re delusional for continuing.

Your health journey – whatever that looks like for you – is going to have this same awkward middle phase. You’ll meal prep on Sunday and feel organised. By Wednesday, you’ll be staring at containers of quinoa, wondering why you thought this was a good idea.

You’ll start exercising and feel brilliant for the first fortnight. Then it’ll become just another thing on your to-do list that you sometimes nail and sometimes don’t.

The temptation is to bail when the novelty wears off. When the initial burst of motivation fades and you’re left with the daily choice to show up or not. When you can’t see the changes yet, and everyone else seems to be getting results faster.

But here’s what 15 weeks of zapping my legs has taught me: the boring bit is where the real work happens. The unsexy, repetitive, sometimes frustrating bit where you’re building something you can’t see yet.

Your body is changing.

Your habits are rewiring.

Your capacity for consistency is growing.

But it’s all happening beneath the surface, in the spaces between the sessions you show up for.

What I’ve learned is this: the IPL hasn’t just given me smoother legs. It’s given me proof that I can commit to something uncomfortable for longer than feels reasonable. That I can show up for myself even when I don’t feel like it. That progress doesn’t always feel like progress until one day it does.

Most people quit during the boring bit. They mistake the plateau for a dead end. They think because they can’t see results yet, results aren’t coming.

But you’re not most people. You’re someone who’s figured out hard things before. You’ve built a career, maybe raised humans or handsome four-leggeds, and definitely navigated challenges that tested your resolve. You know how to show up when it matters.

The question isn’t whether you can handle the dramatic moments of change. It’s whether you can handle the unremarkable ones:

• The Tuesday evening when you’re tired and the last thing you want to do is prep tomorrow’s lunch.

• The morning when your workout feels like wading through treacle.

• The moment when you’re standing in your bathroom, wondering if you’re mad for continuing.

That’s when you find out what you’re made of, not in the Instagram-worthy moments, but in the boring ones.

And here’s the thing about boring: it compounds. Week by week, session by session, choice by choice. Until one day you look down and realise you’ve built something that wasn’t there before.

The magic was never in the motivation. It was always in the monotony.

It’s about practising being uncomfortable until you discover you’re capable of more persistence than you knew.