Can You Please Stop Talking About My Body
I’m a woman who has never struggled with her weight – until I did. I also struggled with infertility. In fact, before I got pregnant with my second, who is now 8, I was told I would not be able to get pregnant again. Fortunately, God had other plans.
After that pregnancy, I gained a substantial amount of weight. I tried everything to lose it. I did every diet out there, I tracked macros, did HIIT workouts, worked out at a strength and conditioning gym, met with certified nutritionists, cried countless hours all while the weight continued to pile on. I even tried some of those gimmick wraps to try and see if I could help with the bloat. But no, it didn’t work.
Some of these so-called experts flat out told me I must be lying about my food logs because there was no way I was eating as I stated and continued to gain weight.
Here I am trying to take care of myself. I’m actively trying to eat healthy, following your program, working out, raising two young girls, and co-owning a small business and I’m being told I’m still failing. Awesome.
I don’t need to be reminded I’m failing. I see it in the mirror every day.
Then I finally received a diagnosis. I have PCOS. It was a relief. I finally have some answers. Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome is a hormonal imbalance with symptoms including menstrual irregularity, excessive hair growth, acne, and obesity. It makes you insulin resistant. Losing weight is basically a nightmare if you have PCOS.
I started following trainers online who have PCOS, Hashimoto’s thyroid disorders, and other hormonal difficulties to see how they navigate these issues. While they were empowering and made me feel less alone, they didn’t change the number on the scale. It continued to slowly climb. It was infuriating.
As if I wasn’t battling enough in my life, a couple of years ago I had another health situation present itself. It caused me to lose a substantial amount of weight. I’m okay, but it was scary for a while. While I’m happy to have lost the weight, the comments about my body have been so far beyond unacceptable that I want to scream from the rooftops:
DO NOT TALK ABOUT MY BODY ANYMORE.
So many, what I would assume are well-meaning people, talk to me about my former weight like I was morbidly obese. Like I was disgusting before and now I finally look great. They are flabbergasted by the transformation and can’t believe how I was able to finally shed the unwanted weight. To be clear, I did lose 80 pounds. That’s not a small amount, but I’m also 6 feet tall, so it was fairly well distributed; not to say it wasn’t a noticeable amount to lose.
I am privately battling an illness, but all you can see is my waistline.
Again, after years of struggling and suffering to lose weight, I’m relieved it’s gone. It’s actually taken me a year and a half to accept it’s time to buy new clothes. I’ve just been wearing baggy, ill-fitting clothing because I’ve been waiting for the weight to come back on. I’ve been waiting to fail again. My self-confidence is wrecked and I don’t believe I can keep this weight off. Knowing I have PCOS looming over my shoulder doesn’t make it easier.
I see an endocrinologist and she’s been wonderful. I take medications to help mitigate the side effects, but there are certain realities I just have to live with each day.
So while you may think you’re giving me a compliment, please know you don’t know the full story behind my weight loss, and not all weight loss is a celebrated moment in someone’s life.
(So, my web designer says I needed to include a bio, though I find this task silly because, if you’re here, you know me.)
I’m a writer. It’s what I do. It’s a cathartic mechanism when I need release from my anxiety. I’ve had blogs in the past; I’ve taken them down, but I never stopped writing. I simply can’t. My notes app is forever long as it’s filled with pages and pages of different topics. Sometimes I just write a few sentences. Sometimes I write paragraphs.
Recently, I've been writing long essays. My friends and others I hold dear have coaxed me into sharing my work again.
So that's what I'm doing, you wicked, pushy people. LOL
I have no desire to see my writing be anything more than an opportunity to share what I love doing most. I have no interest in this blog reaching the masses.
I thought it would be fun to call it My Spicy Disaster because that's often how I feel. A complete mess of epic proportion. So join me, if you'd like, and let's pretend we're not sitting amongst the chaos crying, but laughing instead.
Or maybe we do cry sometimes, but then wipe our tears and remember one person’s disaster is another person’s … well, who the hell knows …
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