I have a doctor’s appointment today. Few people look forward to doctor’s appointments, but those of us with ye olde hypothyroidism practically look backward, we hate it so much.
My doctor, who is very nice and will at least prescribe something other than Synthroid for thyroid problems, is gradually driving me crazy through no fault of her own. This is because no matter what we do – change meds, change diets, add exercise, subtract exercise – I am not losing weight.
Nay, I am gaining weight. Steadily. Six months ago, I was gaining about five to seven pounds a month. Now, it’s about two. But still gaining. I’ve gone from 142 pounds in November of 2008 to 175.3 on the old scale this morning. After the gym. And before breakfast. And I’m only 5′ 2″.
Becoming a fat person has given me some interesting insights into human nature, which I will now share with you, because I love you more than any doctor ever will. Ahem:
1) People are uncomfortable with the word “fat.” If you call yourself fat, they will insist that you are not, especially if they like you. They will keep this up even after you start shopping at Lane Bryant, after you have to buy big girl underpants, and yes, even after your fat jeans split up the back when you bend over. (True story. This happened to me last week. The pants, not the “you’re not fat.” That happens EVERY GEE-DEE DAY.)
2) No one will believe you if you say you’re not overeating. My doc’s latest obsession is having me keep a food diary. “Maybe I can make suggestions for changes,” she said. “Bring it in, and then we’ll see if you’re eating right. And if I believe you.” I decided then and there that I will NEVER bring her a food diary. Not ever. Go be someone else’s Mom.
3) Not everyone who is fat in the world eats a lot. In the past year, I’ve tried 1200 calorie diets, 1500 calorie diets, and 1800 calorie diets. I’ve done juice cleanses. I’ve worked out every day, every other day, and not at all. Doesn’t matter. Still getting fatter.
To say that all of this is frustrating is the definition of understatement. I have a small ball of rage in my chest all the time now. It’s only a matter of time before it explodes, causing me to pelt passersby with ice cream and useless supplements.
So, like I say: I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon. Pray for me.