(WARNING: Possible TMI inside for non-female types.)
It was tempting, but I put on my underwear instead. I stayed off the scale this week, just as I promised myself and my Divas last week when I started the HELLmone…excuse me…HORmone.
Fridays are my “official” weigh-in day (even though I typically weigh myself three or four times a week), but today, standing naked in front of the scale, one week into a 10-day progesterone regimen and bloated and crabby as hell, I chose to be good to my head and get dressed instead. My doctor friend Barbara told me I’d gain weight temporarily and so I don’t need to know that number this week.
I don’t need to know it because I know it’s not “real.” But my head won’t see it that way. My head will say, “What the….? What did you do wrong, Lynn? Did you overdo the carbs this week? You just HAD to have that Hershey Kiss yesterday before your massage, didn’t you? Cryin’ out loud, Lynn, have you no self control?” Never mind that I have way more exercise minutes in this week than usual and I had a near perfect food week. Oh no. I see a number I don’t like and the blame game begins. Even now. Even after years of “figuring it all out.”
Maura over at Maura’s Toolbox wrote that one of her goals this week is to not punish herself with food. I decided to take her advice and not punish myself with the scale. Talk about the ultimate Non-Scale Victory!
My doctor put me on Provera for 10 days (3 days left, thank god) to see if we can’t get a period going. It’s been nearly three years since I’ve had one and all the blood work shows I’m not in menopause or perimenopause. It’s like my female parts are stuck.
Most women, when they hear I haven’t menstruated in almost three years, will say, “Why do you want to start one now? Are you nuts??!”
Two words: endometrial cancer which I don’t yet have, so ergo, we’re cranking up the uterus like an old Model T.
I’m pretty sure I have no pads or tampons in the house. My daughters have no doubt used up or taken the last of my stash. It’s been so long since I’ve bought them, I don’t know where they keep them at WalMart anymore or even which ones to buy! I’m a little old to be asking a clerk, “Um, excuse me, but could you recommend a tampon?”
If nothing happens in two weeks, we’ll go to Plan B, which, as of this moment, is unknown to both my doctor and me. She’s hoping Plan A works. It didn’t two years ago when I took Provera, but that was two years ago and she’s hoping things have changed. We’ll see.
Extreme weight loss is listed as a cause of secondary amenorrhea (the irony of the first four letters of that word isn’t lost on me), but there’s little information to be found about what women should do if they stop bleeding.
I know a lot of women who, while obese, spent years avoiding the doctor. After they’ve lost weight, it’s not like all of them suddenly embraced their health and found their voice. They know the medical community isn’t always a warm and accepting entity, so finding the self-esteem necessary to ask questions and investigate one’s health takes more than losing a few pounds.
So today’s question: How many of you who have or are losing weight: A) went to the doctor regularly at your heaviest; and/or B) have become more in tune with your health?
I wish I could have a conversation with my ovaries. Instead, I bug the heck out of my doctor and take the pills. And I stay off the scale. And I try not to bite anyone’s head off. I’ll let you know, sans details, if the female parts start working again.