Welcome to November! Which means, of course, welcome to NaBloPoMo! I decided to participate this year as part of my 101 Things list. If you want to join up, the URL is over there in the side bar –> See it? I’m going to be doing a buffet of different post topics this month, so if you’re here for infertility-only-all-the-time, you’re most likely going to be disappointed. If you’re here to learn more about me and the crap that takes up 90+% of my life, you’ll probably have a good time. So off we go!
For the last three months, I’ve been seeing a personal trainer twice a week. Originally, I was hoping that doing so would help me lose some weight, but that hasn’t happened. In fact, I’ve gained four pounds so far. This really is one of those case of losing fat and gaining lean muscle mass, because I’ve also lost 3 inches around my love-handle area (what’s that called? It’s the area just above your waist). So I started looking around at nutrional sites, diet blogs, all those places you go when you want to drop a few pounds. And I started thinking about my own relationship to my body and my weight.
At this point, I know you’re all wondering, “How much do you weigh, Sharah?” But giving numbers out is something we just don’t do in polite society, is it? I’m going to tell you anyway.
I weigh (as of this morning) 163.8 pounds.
I am 5’3″ tall.
My BMI is 29.0, right on the border of being “obese”.
I wear size 12 pants, the same size I wore in high school (I was 15 pounds lighter then).
I wear a thirty-eight d.ouble dee bra.
My waist to hip ratio is 0.85.
I have the classic PCOS body shape: I’m bony at my wrists and ankles (to the point where you can watch my tendons flex under the skin) and all my fat is located between my breasts and my hips. Even when I was a size eight and 128 pounds, I was the same exact shape — just smaller. I still wore a thirty-eight cee, and I would guess that my waist to hip ratio was still about 0.8. Of course, to get that low, I was eating two slices of low-cal bread, a can of tuna fish, a slice of cheese, a chicken breast, 1 1/2 cups of veggies, 3 servings of fruit, and two protein bars each day — just over 1000 calories per day. That is simply not sustainable as a long-term diet. Also at that time I was on d.epo-p.rovera, which completely shut down my hormone system and basically threw me into early menopause, bypassing the effects of PCOS on my estrogen/insulin levels.
Which brings me to where I am now. I want to be a size 8, but I also want to be able to eat. I would love to go back on the depo for the weight loss side effects, but that would mean going back to migraines 3-4 times a month and (obviously) not being able to try for pg at all. I want to be strong and have lots of lean muscle, but that’s simply adding to the number on the scale instead of taking it down. Really, I don’t know what to do next. I’m still taking my met, and I’m still going to the gym, but I don’t know if either of those will actually help me lose any more weight. I know that doing a low-carb diet would certainly help with the PCOS, but I also know that if you’re going to exercise a lot, you should be eating carbs. Argh! Why does this have to be so complicated!
And at the end of the day, I wonder if it really even matters. I’m content with my body; I wonder if the size 8 dreams are just that — dreams. Like wishing you could win the lottery and never work again. I know that I’m never going to be the lovely, straight body shape that all the clothes designers plan for. I’m an hourglass, forever and always. Genetically, and hormonally, my body is what it is, and I’m fighting an uphill battle to slim down. As long as I’m healthy, does it really make a difference? And if I can accept that, can I really give up jumping on the scale every morning? Why does my self-worth have to be tied to an arbitrary value of the earth’s gravitational pull on my mass?