My daughter and I did another 5K Fun Run two weeks ago. I was in the midst of still having pretty severe abdominal pain (If you missed those details.) so we did not finish the 5K. But I did dance for 2 hours with a 30 pound toddler on my shoulders before the run
and about another hour after the run, and walk two miles round-trip from the parking lot to the run. So I don’t feel bad about it AT ALL.
I’m proud of myself. My kid is SO on board with fun runs– as long as they involve getting crazy messy. I suppose there’s a foam run in our future. I dunno if I’m jazzed about that.
Anyway, we went, we danced, we glowed, we were tired.
I’ve been listening to a lot of Ben Folds lately. Because every day is a good day for Ben Folds.
You’re not fired, though. My doctor is. OH-OH-OH-OH FIIIIIRED!
Lemme just tell you why I’ve been MIA for a month. ALL OF THE B.S.!
In January, I decided it was time to stop being scared of what I would find out by going to the doctor, and just go. I hadn’t been to a regular PCP doctor in probably 10 years, with the exception of walk-in clinics for things like strep and sinus infections. I’m an ignore-it-and-it-will-go-away-er, a Boober-Fraggle-doomsday-er.
I fear the worst so I don’t look. Well, this is stupid. So I started going. I was referred to a dr by a co-worker, and I began to see him fairly regularly.
I began to see that he was a terrible, terrible doctor.
He is a prescriber. In the past 7 months he prescribed me no fewer than 10 DAILY medications. My only diagnosed medical condition is anemia… for which he prescribed me nothing, HA. Oh, and his Dx of sleep apnea– though there has been no testing or evidence, except that I’m fat and agreed that I am tired (Um, anemic, single-career-mom of a 3 yr old. OF COURSE I’M TIRED.) So now my permanent medical records have his OPINION that I have a condition. Asshole.
I further began to see a pattern in our visits. In one visit he would chastise me for something, and tell me how to fix it. In the next visit, he would chastise me for doing whatever he previously told me to do, claim he never said that, and change his advise to the exact opposite. Let me give you an example.
March: “You are over weight. Lose weight. The faster the better.”
April: “I see you lost some weight. That’s fine, but you are losing it too quickly so you’re just going to gain it back, and more. Don’t lose weight too quickly.”
May: I say, I’ve been working hard to lose weight, he asks how. I say diet and exercise. IE moderately low calories and 300+ minutes/3-5 days a week. Dr: “Well, exercise is good, but you won’t lose weight that way.” –I understand that what he was getting at is that you can out-eat physical calorie burn– but that is NOT what he said.
June: “You need to lose more weight. You need to lose it much faster. ” He asks what I am doing toward weight loss. My blood pressure (which was a little high, but not bad before) had gone down, my A1C was lower (I was “pre-diabetic” in January), my weight loss has been steady and healthy and all kinds of good things. I detailed my food log, my calorie limits of ~1,300 to 1,500 depending on my physical activity that day (and pure hunger), and my 5X a week workout routine of cardio and weights. He told me that 1) I was delusional in my estimates of burning 500-600 calories in my workouts (really?! an hour of intense cardio and 30 minutes of weight lifting?! DELUSIONAL?!). He further explained that if a very fit person and I did the same amount of physical exercise at the same intensity, that the fit person would burn at least 3 times more calories than I would. Which is wrong. Not just a little wrong, completely wrong. Like never-went-to-med-school wrong. Your body becomes MORE efficient at not wasting energy, not less. Your body tries to keep calories. That’s how we’re made. Anyway, he further scoffed at me explaining that my calorie limits of 1300-1500 calories were “Entirely too much food” and advised I go on a 500 calorie diet. He stated I should try more broccoli. He said this with a straight face. He also told me I couldn’t do it, and I would fail. He did not offer any nutritional advice, referral to a dietician, any of the other things a doctor should provide if ADVISING extreme dieting. In addition, I am anemic with a history of eating disorders, so this medical advice is even more dangerous and irresponsible– not to mention just plain bad advice.
So you see a pattern, yes? He is a bad doctor and he doesn’t like me.
While all this weigh garbage is happening, I am experiencing a few other problems. One, I’ve been having this hip pain that is too legit to quit. My right hip has been hurting for, oh, going on 3 months now. Hurts to walk. It’s like internal joint pain. Scary to me. Dr man said I had sustained an injury at some time, and my range of motion was “really weird”. He prescribed me (of course he did) ibuprofen and tramadol. I’m sensitive to pain meds, so tramadol was my bed-time treat, lest I fall asleep behind the wheel of my car or at my desk at work or, say, while caring for my kid. The hip pain has been constant, but tolerable. It hurts all the time but ibuprofen helps quite a lot.
Additionally, I have some lady stuff going on which prompted a change in my birth control, which led to me going BAT SHIT CRAZY. I questioned whether my mood instability, for one, was a side effect of this BC. He said that was (can you guess?) ABSURD. He said the clear answer was that my anti-depressant was no longer functional and changed my RX. Background– my anti-depressant was a SSRI type, and he changed me to a SSNRI type. The second is a bit more hard-core, and the drug in particular is pretty hard-core. After some reading and speaking with other folks who work in the medical field, this was a pretty drastic jump, especially considering this is the first time in my whole life I’ve ever been on any anti-depressants. It isn’t as though I’ve been moving through the RX’s trying to find something that works– which totally happens. But I digress.
This new RX had major side effects, including severe upper right quadrant pain. I learned this after I began having severe upper right quadrant pain. I am gall-bladder-free, but it felt like gallstones. I decided it was liver failure or something terrible, so I went to my Dr. I had no symptoms that make URQ pain urgent– no fever, no abdominal tenderness, etc. Just radiating pain so severe I couldn’t stand without sweating from the pain, couldn’t walk 10 feet without the pain taking my breath away. It was awful and debilitating and defeating and scary. That’s when I found information about Cymbalta and URQ pain. Like a whole page of people saying they had the same pain and it stopped after they stopped taking the RX. I mentioned this to my Dr, who (guess! guess what he said!!) LAUGHED IN MY FACE and told me that was ridiculous. After a CT (which went terribly wrong as well, naturally. Did you know your veins can explode and iodine can just fill up your arm which may cause bruising, hives, and muscle soreness for many days? I do.) came back clean, my Dr decided I was overdosing on pain medication. He told me my pain MUST be a duodenal ulcer from abusing ibuprofen. So, one, I took it as prescribed, two, I had been taking it for maybe 2 months at the time, and I almost never take anything OTC or otherwise. He referred me to a gastro. This required more testing ($$$$$$$)– and I really felt like the obvious next step was to TRY getting off the meds.
I made a decision that day to fire my doctor and, while finding a new one, follow my gut. I stopped taking the BC and Cymbalta. Guess what happened? The URQ pain went away. My brain came back to a regular rotation.
My hip still hurts, but I’m working on it.
Anyway, my point is just that for a month I have been struggling with trying to stay on-task with food since I could not physically do anything (DRIVING HURT! Ridic.) I didn’t even log my food for most of the month, becuase I just didn’t want to know. I ate my feelings some, and over-ate some, and just generally had a constant toddler-VS-mom internal fight at every meal. I’ve also been struggling with all the things that go along with non-stop pain (new found respect for chronic-pain). And now? I am BACK!
Lots of good has come from that month of bad. I have re-learned the value of trusting myself. I know my body. I have to trust that. I was reminded that doctors are people. There are good people and shitty people. I found the shittiest.
I still lost weight, some how. I’m surprised and delighted. I guess I’m more on top of this stuff than I thought.
Yesterday was my first day back at the gym, and it suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucked.
But I did it. And I’ll do it again today. And tomorrow. Et so on.
So I’ve been MIA, but I’m still here. And today I’m wearing pants I could have worn 3 years ago. They look super cute.
*Edit: Since writing this, I have become STEADILY MORE MAD. It really is worse than I thought. It becomes so apparent when it’s all listed out like this. There are other choice idiocies he spouted, of course, but they’re off topic. That guy is a train-wreck. Don’t put up with bad doctoring! Second opinions forever!!
For a 40 pound weight-loss reward, I purchased a $22 lipstick. I don’t buy ridiculous things for myself very often, and I CERTAINLY do not buy a single cosmetic that costs more than $10 AND I don’t really wear lipstick, so this is the splurgiest of splurges. But it is a two-fold reward.
I’ve always kind of had an internal war between wishing I was a super stylish girl and hating the super stylish girl. I was raised by my dad (and later step-mom) for all those influential years where girls learn to explore their fashion tastes and try out terrible hairstyles and learn how to accessorize. My step mother is a very nice woman with generally AWFUL taste. My dad is very much a dude’s dude working-class kinda guy. He picks out a new outfit for a fancy event from Goodwill, and considers a Hawaiian button down church-appropriate. My mother has spent my life telling me that vanity is the worst thing anyone can embrace—and I can get behind this on a very VERY extreme platform, but she views any kind of care about clothes, appearance, etc to be a character flaw.
Ok, so needless to say I always feel like the most boring shirt in the room. Generally speaking, I keep my wardrobe pretty simple, innocuous. I don’t make bold fashion statements, I don’t do, like, animal prints and stuff. I mean, you do you—I just don’t like that on me. When I was smaller, I cared more. I liked shopping and felt good in new clothes, I did my hair often, I enjoyed putting on makeup most days and finding cute earrings. I LOVED shoes and bags, just in an Old Navy/Target price range. As I have gained weight, I have felt so unattractive and so matter-of-fact about my appearance that I have stopped caring what I see. I mean, like I still shower and brush my teeth and wear clothes in good repair and stuff, but when I try on a shirt for work and I look frumpy, it’s fine—because no matter what I put on, I’m going to look much older than I should and frumpy, because of my weight. And it has been going on for so long now that I sort of forgot that I think I can be pretty—that I am capable of looking NICE. Not passable—looking GOOD. It is size related, but deeper than that. I worked at this TERRIBLE job for two years. Terrible terrible—the kind of job where you cry before you go in, on your lunch break, and after work EVERY DAY. It was a very valuable lesson, but I am not grateful I learned it. While I was there, I was depressed, and gained more weight, which made me depressed about that too. One day I came into work with full makeup, my hair done and a nice outfit, because I had personal appointment. Everyone in my office ooh’d and aww’d and were genuinely surprised. Do you know how it feels to realize someone is genuinely surprised to learn you can look nice? It’s awful. I was so horrified to learn that I looked SO BAD most of the time that makeup and a cute top were enough to lastingly shock people who have seen me daily for years. After leaving that job, my appearance improved (did you know not crying and sleeping well and stuff makes a huge difference?) and I remembered that I do actually care how I look. I started wearing makeup more often and spending more thought on my clothes and finally diet.
As I get older, I’m learning a lot about the value of things—I mean this completely materialistically. An $80 bag lasts 80% longer than a $5 bag. Quality is quality, and while price does not equal quality, quality is worth paying for. All of this is just to say, $22 lipstick IS THE GREATEST PURCHASE I HAVE EVER MADE!
I love lipstick, but I just eat it off my face so I rarely wear it. I’m bad at re-applying and I hate that thing where it’s all worn off and you look like you lined your lips and ate a popsicle—not cute. Anyway, in addition to being the ALL TIME BEST EVER MOST PERFECT shade of red (seriously, swoon!), and smelling like vanilla- not wax or something else gross, AND tasting like nothing AND being hyper-pigmented AND not feathering or bleeding, I applied it at 8 am and did not re-apply until 2pm (after I ate a sandwich, and to be honest, I just had to dab a little in the center of my lips). Then I walked at the park, sweat like a fool, and when I got home it was still perfect. (Um, I don’t make it a habit to workout in lipstick (T Swizzle!) but I forgot makeup remover) And!! When I used makeup remover, it came off COMPLETELY, easily, beautifully. No pilling, no dry lip, no weird lipstick residues. I’m not trying to write a beauty blog or anything, but I will never buy another lipstick that is not Besame. And I want all the colors. 1920 red is AMAZING. I think I know some more things to put on my weight loss reward list. And, wearing lipstick keeps me from snacking, out of fear of reapplying. So handy.
In non-lipstick related news…
If you have been following my eternal struggle of life and food, you may remember my recent struggle with UNENDING RELENTLESS cravings that did not seem to be associated with a real food or emotional need. After some research and some different trial-and-error attempts, I decided to try adding a few vitamins to my daily intake and see if it made a difference.
Well. I can’t say for sure that it was the added vitamins, but I absolutely feel better. The cravings have subsided back to normal. I noticed a difference in just a few days, and I feel completely back in control now—roughly 2 weeks later. It could always be coincidence or placebo or just that I got it out of my system—who knows? What I DO know, is I am SO SO glad I don’t feel like a mad woman about food at the moment. I mean, I would still rather eat a hamburger than the stuffed tomatoes I prepared for lunch, but it’s totally fine. I would still like to dive into a tub full of truffles, but I can walk by the Godiva kiosk. Additionally, I have re-lost my weight gained during uncontrolled bingeing AND am at my lowest weight in the last 3 years.
I did my first Fun Run as an adult this weekend. I did not run, but I did have fun.
My daughter (3) told me all week about how much she was going to heartily DISenjoy herself. She did not wish to run, walk, be covered in colors, or see many people and perhaps friends. Three-year-olds are a joy and a gift. Motherhood is so rewarding.
When my alarm went off at 5:45am on a Saturday, I cursed myself. Why? Why would I do this to myself? I can walk 5K anywhere, at any time. Why did I pay money to have to get up early on my ONLY day to sleep in (and I say sleep in VERY loosely, because 3 year olds do not sleep in unless it is a school day or you are on a schedule)? And, even better– it was raining like CRAZY.
Lovely day for a Fun Run!
I thought about just not going. But I went. I knew that if I didn’t go I would kick myself forever. So we went. When we arrived, we stood in a very wet line for packet pick-up and took selfies. The rain slowed to a drizzle, and all was scheduled to go on as planned. Ish.
I didn’t really know what to expect with a color run, and had the option when I registered to buy extra color packets, so I did. I assumed a “color packet” was like a tiny, one shot kinda deal. So I bought 15 extra color packets. Fun fact: Color packets are BIG. It’s enough pigment to attack 10 people. So we had PLENTY.
Standing at the start line, an employee approached a group of us to let us know the start time had been pushed back an hour. It was 8:30 am. They wouldn’t start till 10 am. A couple of things with that. One, the storm was anticipated to hit again around 10. Clever, race folks. Two, this is in southern coastal Texas. 10 am + rain humidity + Galveston area + June = A BILLIONDY SEVEN DEGREES.
We decided, along with some strangers, that we wouldn’t wait for the start time, we’d just walk and have some fun. So we did.
It got pretty intense. My daughter, by the end, was screaming like Braveheart and chasing strangers to attack them with color powder. Luckily, this was an instance where that was completely encouraged… I couldn’t have stopped her if I wanted to. The track was about a mile-and-a-half, then a turn-around, and the same track back to the start/finish line. We made it ALMOST to the half-way mark when the sky opened up again. My daughter was already pretty tired by then anyway…
We ended up turning around and not quite doing the entire 5K (lightening!!!) and we were completely drenched by the time we made it back. In white clothes. It was cute. We also found out that it was cancelled after-all. HAHAHA. Of course it was. I think they’re rescheduling, so maybe we get to do it twice. And if not, I’m double glad we went.
But we had FUN. My daughter insists she did not have fun. Because she’s 3. And 3 year-olds are terrible companions most of the time. But she did have fun. She told everyone about our Fun Run. We enjoyed it so much I signed us up for a Glow Run in a few months and she is JAZZED about it. Even though she won’t admit it.
It’s a very minor accomplishment, but I’m glad I did it. It seems silly to pay money to walk ~3 miles (and in the rain), but money has proven over and over again to be a really good incentive for me. Spending and earning. In this case, I’m glad that I went. I found a new funsies activity for my daughter and I to do together that is teaching her to enjoy exercise as recreation (although, at 3 she’s not opposed to it yet) and has opened a new door of something special for us to do together.
The Petulant Dieter 