Nine months in I hit a wall so flat I went back and reread my own log like it was somebody else's. Every weekday was boring and identical — same breakfast, salad lunch, dinner at 6:30 — and the scale didn't budge from month 5 to month 8. What I wasn't tracking was Friday night through Sunday.
First time in years I added up a normal weekend and it was roughly 2,500 extra calories between takeout, two glasses of wine, and the 3pm cheese-and-cracker thing that isn't a meal but also isn't not a meal.
Trimming just the crackers and the second glass got me three pounds over eight weeks, which sounds tiny until you remember I'd spent three months getting zero. The other half was sleep.
I was averaging five and a half hours for a work thing, and my appetite on those days was a different animal — hungry by 10am, snacking by 3, resting heart rate up six beats. Nothing dramatic fixed it. I moved dinner 45 minutes earlier, put my phone in the kitchen, and walked 25 minutes after lunch instead of doomscrolling.
The plateau broke in about three weeks, slowly.
Not saying that's your situation, but if you're around 72 weeks and flat, the boring stuff I'd stopped doing was the boring stuff that had been working.