As I complained to my doctor about how I’ve been working out and eating right but seeing no results, she smiled and patted my shoulder.

“Honey,” she said, “With all the fluid you’re retaining, there’s no way the scale will be accurate.”

“Oh,” I said sheepishly.

And she was right. My feet, ankles and calves have been swollen to the point of pain lately. She prescribed a strong fluid tablet and I took it yesterday afternoon. This morning I weighed in at 233.6. That’s three pounds down from the day before. Very encouraging! And I’m still peeing like a waterfall.

In other news, she said my hormones are way off… So I had blood drawn to check for low thyroid, low progesterone, low testosterone and low estrogen. I’m SO ready to feel like myself.


Yes. I’ve been weighing every day even though I haven’t been posting it. I’ve been hovering between 235.2 and 236.7. This morning I was 236.5. So in 24 days of tracking my calories in and calories out… when mathematically I should be losing two to three pounds a week… I’ve lost about five.

So I have a doctor appointment today. I need to see what’s going on with my body. I don’t feel like me.

 


I did it. I had three perfect days. I think the key for me is hyper-short-term goals.

I made the decision to not weigh unless I messed up for those three days, so this morning I had high hopes. However, the scales registered 235.4. That puts me down -.8 but still not to my low of 235. In my mind this confirms that something’s going on with my body.

You see, last summer I had an ovary removed. At the time of the surgery I was 216. Overweight, yes… but not the 240.2 that shook me out of my denial daze. Over the past six months my periods have been way off. I would go two months without a period and then have one that lasted for 10 days. I chose not to go to the doctor because I wanted to give my body a year from the surgery to heal itself. But this last month I only went two and half weeks between periods. And I’m on day eleven with this one. So I’ve made an appointment with my doctor.

My symptoms include:

  • Weight Gain
  • Extremely Low Libido
  • Irregular Periods
  • Long Periods
  • Low Energy Level
  • Night Sweats
  • Mental Slowness
  • Fatigue
  • Just Not Feeling Like Myself

If anyone who happens to come across this blog has had experience with ovary removal and then symptoms like mine, I’d love to hear from you. I need to figure out what on earth is going on. I need to find me again.

 


I know that’s not true. But darn it’s how I feel. I did SO good through the day yesterday, then it all went you-know-where last night. I don’t even want to admit all I ate but I’m going to. Because that’s the whole point. Avoiding denial and being honest. I downed a crispy chicken sandwich and two junior bacon cheeseburgers from Wendy’s. It was like my body had a mind of it’s own… it was SO hungry!!! I forced myself to look up the nutrition information. It’s not pretty. There are 400 calories in the junior bacon cheeseburgers and 380 calories in the crispy chicken sandwich. That means I wolfed down (ok… I actually did take small bites and chew slowly) 1180 calories in ONE MEAL. No wonder I’m not losing weight.

Yesterday I said I was going to have three perfect days. And I am. But yesterday wasn’t one of them. So first I think I need to define what I consider a perfect day.

Here we go:

  1. Drink three liters of water
  2. Get to green on my activity tracker
  3. 250 calorie Jimmy Dean Delight for breakfast
  4. A sensible lunch
  5. If I have a snack it needs to be under 150 calories
  6. An ultra-light dinner
  7. Showered and in bed by 10:00

Seven simple things. Three days in a row. I can do it. I have to do it.

 


OK… My body is frustrating me. Saturday night we did birthday celebrations which include homemade pizza (served late) and cake. I partook of both (and wine), but in moderation. However, I fully expected to be up a pound or two when I weighed Sunday morning. Nope. I stayed steady at 235. I was so relieved that I watched every bite on Sunday and was super active… to the tune of burning 370 calories MORE than my normal goal of 620.

I hop on the scales this morning expecting a loss. I wait. WHAT? I’m up??? 1.2 pounds??? I get off and get back on. Same result. NOT COOL.

I’ve been running through what I did wrong in my head, and the only thing I can think of is that I didn’t drink much water on Sunday. So today I’m going to down at least three liters and we’ll see if that makes a difference.

The fact that the scale isn’t moving lately is discouraging. : (


This morning I oh so delicately set a toe on my scales, fearful of the outcome. Due to schedules dinner was super late, and I did eat two of my healthy style chicken enchiladas. I just knew i was going to be back up. Thankfully I was down to an even 235. But it did get me thinking about the fear.

Scraping of a measly 5.2 pounds (which isn’t that much when you are as big as i am) has taken me twelve days. Twelve! And that would be ok except I know I can easily pack on that same amount in one or two days. And the careful eating and work I’ve done so far would be wasted.

Sigh. Writing out the feelings helps in a strange way. Onward and downward.


I looked up a BMI chart to see what weight I’ll need to be at before I’m officially considered “overweight” rather than obese. Thank you to The Lovely Project for the idea! The charts I looked at varied some, but the consistent number I found for my height (5’5″) was 179. From where I’m at right now, that’s 57.4 pounds I have to shed. And that number seems massive. And it’s not even all I have to lose! BUT… if I drop 3.5 pounds a week, which I can do if I’m steady and stay on track, then I’ll “only be overweight” in sixteen and a half weeks. That’s August 3rd people! And it will be here before I know it.

Do I want to enter the dog days of summer feeling dog ugly? No thank you. I want to be over half way to my goal weight of 140.

There. Goals set. Now to make it happen… tummy rumbles. Grrrr…


After my experiment of one day, I answer my own question with a resounding “YES!”. Let me explain. Day before yesterday I watched what I ate, but had a dinner that included 1/2 a grilled chicken breast, corn on the cob and a generous serving of green beans and steamed carrots. Sure, my plate was full, but with all the options being healthy I didn’t really give it much thought. But when I stepped on the scale yesterday morning my weight was 239, which was almost back up to my starting weight. Not cool.

So yesterday I changed things up. I ate my big meal (a grilled chicken Subway sandwich) at 3:30 and had two scrambled eggs and some grapefruit for dinner at 8:30. This morning I was down to 236.4. Whew! So I’ll be doing something similar today.

I would like to note that yesterday was not easy. In fact, I found myself borderline ravenous most of the day. I hate that feeling… Obviously. Or I wouldn’t be in the mess I’m in and having to fight tooth and nail for every pound down. And the scary thing is, if I hadn’t weighed yesterday I would have kept doing the same thing and been back at my starting weight or—EGAD!—over it.

 

 


I only avoided the scales one day this week. They sit on my bathroom floor looking up at me accusingly. I hear them mock me. “You really think just getting more sleep is going to shave off 100 pounds? Shouldn’t you really be getting serious?”

And they are right. While I did make progress this week and am down to 237.2 from 240, I need to make some real commitments and come up with a plan that will get me at 225 in two weeks. And then from there I can focus on losing four pounds a week.

I hate the way I feel right now. This layer of blubber weighs down much more than my body. It’s gross and disgusting and I’m so ashamed that I let myself go like this. I find myself thinking, if only I’d been brave enough to hop on the scales sooner I wouldn’t be in this situation. But I am. So this weekend I will outline a diet plan for next week. Taking it a week at a time is all I know to do.


I was all set to do my new sleep schedule on Tuesday when a text came in around 5:00 letting me know I was going to have a house guest that evening. So, not only did I need to run to Whole Foods to pick up his vegan pizza, but prep the guest room and wait up for him to arrive. All of which I was happy to do. But he didn’t roll into my driveway until 11:30. Which put me between my sheets at 12:30 in the morning.

Speaking of sheets, I stooped to new lows when it comes to my hostessing skills. When I went upstairs to check the guest bedroom and turn on the lamps I realized my newly acquired cats enjoy the solitude of the black and white toile haven. Dark kitty hair clung to the linens—and not just a small amount. I frantically brushed it away, but more drastic measures were required. A trip to the garage yielded that silver magician, duck tape. A few determined tugs and a rips later I had de-cathaired the bed and (hopefully) my guest was none the wiser.

Last night I did slightly better and managed to be in bed asleep sometime between 11:15 and 11:30. But tonight I have a friend coming over and I know we’ll wile away the hours over deliciously chilled glasses of wine and equally yummy conversation. Or maybe I’ll stick to water and bourbon to save on the calories. : )

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