A Heavy Topic

Oh, weight.  And Infertility. How I loathe thee.

So, here's the story:

- my “fat” pants started fitting like those emo-skinny pants that kids wear now.

-I’m Italian.  That means you don’t leave the table without seconds. Ever. It also means that breads, pasta and other starches are the…eh hem…bread and butter of meals.

- I realized that I had two very distinct stomachs.  Split horizontally, not vertically. I have a muffin and a muffin top.

-I got winded walking up the one flight of stairs to our bonus room.

-I don’t drink beer.  Or wine (mostly).  But I do enjoy my sweet “girlie” drinks.  Which, of course, are loaded with soda, sugar, simple syrup, and sweetness.  And occasionally ice cream.  And sugar-rimmed glasses.  And lots of maraschino cherries.

-I don’t like chocolate became an excuse to gorge on gummy worms from my co-worker’s office. Which I just discovered have 293 calories per 10 worms.  I normally ate about 20 worms.  That is almost 600 calories PER SNACK!!!!!

-my stomachs started protruding further than my boobs.  Really?? Even after the surgery, it’s still hard to get bigger than my boobs!

-I asked a friend to tie my shoes because I didn’t want to bend over my stomachs to do it myself.

-I looked at our wedding picture and wistfully thought of how tiny I was; when in reality, I needed to lose weight back then.

-I became unable to shop in the regular sections, but had to start migrating to the “plus”.

-I got out of breath on a brisk 10-minute walk with a co-worker.

-I looked in our pantry and realized there was more processed food and junk than there was healthy food or fruits & veggies.

-I started wearing shorts & a T-shirt to the water park instead of a swim suit.

-I didn’t even try to stop gaining the normal “IVF-15”. 

-I started using infertility and IVF as my excuse to eat whatever I wanted and not exercise.

-I actually started thinking of more and more excuses: I’m grumpy, so I’m eating candy.  I’ve had a hard day, so I’m drinking this soda. I don’t feel like cooking, so I’ll order a pizza.  I forgot to thaw out chicken, so let’s go out. I walked 2 miles yesterday, so I don’t have to move for the next week.  I have a headache/stomachache/shoulder ache.  I didn’t sleep well last night. I have to write this report after work.

- “I’ll admit I’m the laziest person I know” became painfully true.

-I noticed that I had finally topped-out.  My weight hasn’t gone up in 2 months, and I’ve never been heavier than this. Phew.  Wait, what???  Why is that a good thing???

-I desperately want to believe that “I’m not fat, I’m fluffy” is a valid statement.

-Chili’s has 2 for 1 fajitas on Monday night.  They are sinfully good.  We are friends with the bartender (because we went so often), which means most the time, our drinks are free.  So, we could have a couple of drinks & beef fajitas for $20.  What a deal!!  Every. Week.

I’ve dealt with depression before in my life.  I made the mistake - one time, long ago -  of going on Prozac. That did nothing.  I had a sleep study once (1999) and the only thing that came out of it was that I was depressed.  I told them if they met my (ex) husband, they’d be depressed, too.  I finally came to learn that, for me at least, depression was simply due to the circumstances of my life and what I decided to do about it.  I climbed my way out of the hole I was in (and the marriage), discovered the ME that had been lost for so long, and became a happier person.  Issue done. 

I have finally realized in the past 2-3 years, I am depressed again.  Not the same type of depression. This depression has been due to infertility.

I am so amazingly happy with my life now.  Sometimes, I still don’t believe that I have earned this happiness and I’m afraid I’ll do something to lose it. So, I know how precious it is and I truly appreciate it.  However, when it comes to infertility, I get in this black closet of depression.  I feel less-than.  Less than a woman, a wife, a (future) mother. Even less than a friend to those with children and less than an aunt to all my precious family members.  There is a stigma that goes with childless people.  Because I don’t have children of my own, I’ll never understand the powerful love that parents feel for their children.  I’ll never understand what it’s like to be a parent.  Until I have kids of my own, I’m just less of a person.  Now, I don’t believe this for a second.  Hell, I’m a better parent now than half the jackoffs that actually have kids.  I know unconditional love that I would kill for and that overwhelms me because it is so strong. I have that for my husband, my family and my friends.  And for all their children.  But, I also feel like I’m letting everyone down. Keith has so much to give a child, I feel horrible for not being able to give him that gift.  My parents and in-laws are the absolute most AMAZING grandparents on earth, and I can’t give them more grandchildren to love.  My nieces & nephews want cousins to play with, and I can’t give that to them.  I can’t share my “cute kid” story or my “you won’t believe what Johnny did” story, so people tend to not share their stories with me.

So, I’ve become depressed.  It makes me sad to hear of pregnancy stories.  I mean, I am very happy, too!  I love to see my loved ones have happiness in their lives and I love enjoying it with them.  But, ultimately, I will think about my lack of that same happiness.  This leads me to be lazy. And to eat.  And to make excuses.  Granted, it is a fact that every fertility treatment is basically a guarantee of weight gain.  However, I used that as an excuse to allow the weight to stay on. 

So, I’m done with excuses (mostly).  I know that I’ll have lazy days.  I know I’ll lose motivation. I really, really, really, really, reeeeeeaaaaaaallllllllyyyyyy hate exercise.  I swear to you, I’m allergic.  I despise it. I dread it.  I don’t enjoy any minute of it.  I think all the people that jog for fun and go to the gym religiously are actually masochists in disguise.  But, I also know that the weight isn’t going to melt off of me in a sauna, so I’ve got to get my fat ass moving. 

And eating better.  So far, I’m sort-of enjoying the diet.  It’s not too bad of food, and I’m trying some new things (tuna burgers! Hummus!) that I never thought I would try, let alone like.  I’m eating when I’m not hungry to keep the metabolism from snoring.  I’m eating 6 small meals a day, and I’m not hungry.  I’m spending TONS of money on food, but at least it’s healthy food.  I’m cooking more in one day than I used to in a week. I’m doing so many dishes my hands are dry.  But, Keith and I are enjoying cooking together. We’re enjoying our evening walks, and so are the dogs. We’re enjoying motivating each other.

There is a Biggest Loser contest at my office that starts tomorrow.  It’s a $20 buy-in and the winner gets 50%.  I think there are about 25 people joining.  I was already being cocky, saying I was going to win.  But then I saw the rules and the dates.  It ends on my birthday.  So, now I’m destined to win!! 

So I started my diet and exercise kick last week 1/10/11.  So far, I’ve lost 4 pounds.