The bloodwork my GP did was completely different than the bloodwork my OB-GYN did.
I’m going to see my gyno on Thursday morning, and I’m taking the new work with me so that he can explain WTF is going on.
My thyroid levels are two different things on the tests, so that’s no help.
My triglycerides went from a totally respectable 107 to a ridiculously high 215. WTF WTF WTF?!?
Everything else looks okay, as far as I can tell, but there are some indications that my liver might be rebelling from all of the medication.
And also, I still feel like being on birth control isn’t helping me all that much. Except that I totally skipped my period this month, which is awesome. Heh.
I’m signing up for a local gym TOMORROW (like, paying for a year and signing up for actual aerobic exercises), and I already have a workout buddy (whom I’ve never met, but she’s a recovering mean girl, and I’m a pretty snarky person, so I think we’ll get along famously), so I can go to my gyno the morning after cardio and be like, “HELP ME CAN’T YOU SEE I’M TRYING TO HELP MYSELF MY GOD MAN PLEEEEEEASE”
Because I am a graceful creature. With a 40-inch waist. Possibly a 42-inch waist. I can wear my 6’6″ husband’s pants, is what I’m saying.
When I got married, I had a 31-inch waist. Probably a 33-inch waist when I started on birth control. And it’s all been spectacularly downhill from there. Stress, hormones, possible thyroid and/or pituitary issue, and a rebelling liver? Yeah, all of those could be possible. I have symptoms of fibromyalgia, to be sure. I also have symptoms of hypothyroidism of the type that’s the result of your pituitary gland NOT picking up the slack. Which is weird. I don’t understand it. Which is why I’m talking to my doctor about it.
I might actually weigh 220 pounds right now. That’s 60 pounds above my “ideal” weight, given my bone structure. I mean, holy shit. That’s scary.
Anyway, I’m fat and unhealthy, I can’t even wear my wedding rings any more, and I don’t want to be the kind of person I usually make fun of.
Yes, I said it.
I have ragged on SO many people for getting married and then getting fat. Circumstances being what they are, I would be pissed if someone made fun of me, but I’ve probably made comments along the lines of, “how hard is it to eat healthy? I mean, especially when you don’t have any other bills?” Yeah. Go ahead and kick me in the ass. I’ll post video from my first aerobics class so that you can see me kicking my OWN ass. Would you like that?
I’m sure someone out there would like to see it. I’ll probably do a before/after. If I remember. Or if I’m alive afterward. My fingernails are blue and purple, for fuck’s sake. I doubt my heart’s getting much more blood.
I have two pairs of size 18 pants of the stretchy variety, which means they showcase my lower belly fat marvelously. I have also invested in quite a few large men’s tee shirts, and am now dressing like the trailer trash I am descended from. I have arrived. I am “home.”
Well, “home” can kiss my ass, because I’m tired of not being able to shave behind my knees without executing a move that would make any circus-performing contortionist proud, if not slightly disgusted.
So, anyway. I’m joining a gym tomorrow, the last term of my college career is looming, and my goal is to be back to my wedding weight (it was 180-ish, I’m pretty sure) by graduation. Then, by the following fall, I hope to be back to a comfortable 14, or a 12. A 12 would be nice.
And thus begins the journey of someone with an eating disorder and a seriously warped body image, on the road to trying to be healthy enough for her doctors to take her seriously when she says, “holy shit look at my bloodwork!! what the FUCK is THAT?”