Friday, June 13, 2008
Remind me - Why did I give away my fat clothes?
Disclaimer: I have nothing against fat, unless it's on my body. It was toxic to me, so I have to fight it with everything I can muster. Clothes were a big reward system for me when I was losing the weight, so I feel very strongly about wanting to still be able to wear my small clothes. That's what this blog is about. My fat. My fat clothes. I don't care what anyone else looks like or what they do with their body. Okay? Okay...
<--This is not me, and I've NEVER been a size 4.
I couldn't wait to do it - get rid of the 18s, then the 16s, then all the XLs in the closet, then the 14s - *gasp!* - and the 12s, and the Ls. I landed in a size 10 and M shirts. I got myself a nice casual wardrobe and a few nice dresses. As I shrunk from 215 to 155, I delighted in the thought that people shopping at Goodwill were getting some really nice pieces from my closet, and I was getting the tax write-off.
"Never again!" I declared.
But you know, I didn't count on life and its surprises. Surprise! Here are some medication side effects! Surprise! Here is a major stressor in the form of your adult child moving back in! Surprise! Your waist just shot up 2 inches and none of your summer wardrobe fits!
There is nothing worse than standing in the closet, trying to slip into a pair of capris that look great with that certain top, only to find you can't fasten them. Yikes! Groooooan.
At the doctor's office today, I weighed 13 lbs more than when I saw him 2 months ago. I swallowed hard. "See?" I said. "I told you something weird is happening."
He ordered a thyroid panel (I have a multinodular goiter, so I'm already on meds, but they might need to be readjusted), a metabolic panel (to check to be sure my sugar hasn't gone back up), a vitamin D level (since both of my sisters - one older, one younger - have severe osteoporosis already), and a CBC to see if I'm anemic (which might explain the extreme fatigue). He was sympathetic.
We talked about the fact that I'm ready for the Chiari surgery and that I don't want to live the rest of my life on pain medication that makes me fat (though we don't know yet if that's the culprit). He understood. He doesn't like the fact that I have to take narcotics either, but we both know it's what I'm stuck with. I told him that I want my life back, even if it means undergoing brain surgery.
He is an excellent doctor and has been there during some of my worst, touch-and-go moments. I will never forget seeing him when I woke up in ICU. He was patting my hand and smiling.
"You're not allowed to get sick anymore," he smiled. "You're too young for this!"
I returned the smile. "Then let me out and I promise not to come back!"
If I moved away from here, he's someone I would miss. Good doctors are few and far between, in my experience.
The weight? Not a thing he can do about it other than test for new health problems. He was sympathetic about that, too. He saw me drop the weight and keep it off for nearly a year. He knows I'll work to get it back off. Unfortunately, I can't do most exercises, so I'm going to have to carefully design a low-intensity workout that will tighten the muscles without putting pressure on the back of my head or on my spine. I'll have to get out there early or late to walk in the cooler air. And I'm starting my diet back up next week. I'm not happy about it, but I would be even less happy about running to the mall and buying a bunch of fat clothes again.
So...Next week? It's back to the grind - er - to the meal replacement shaker jar. Fortunately, I get a regular dinner of meat and veggies (no side items) and a food bar once a day. It will make life worth living :-)
Peace - D
(There are some Gap capris in the closet with my name on them! I'll put them on and pose when I've got this 13 lbs off!)