When success isn’t a habit

They say the habit of success creates more success.

What if you don’t have a habit of success?

My weight loss has currently stalled, and it’s messing with my head.

When I was in my early 20s, I did Optifast. Very unhealthy, but I didn’t know that then. I don’t have any records, but I’m pretty sure I lost around 100 lbs. I do know I ended up as a size 18, 2 sizes smaller than I wore at my HS graduation. Unfortunately, while Optifast was great for fast weight loss, they don’t teach you anything about dealing with any emotions that might affect your eating, nor do they actually teach you much about how you actually need to eat going forward. At least, that’s how it was in 1990.

In 2005 I went on the Atkins diet and I lost 100 lbs in 9 months. Unfortunately, I didn’t do it in a really healthy way. I didn’t know I was allergic to soy, which is in absolutely everything (salad dressing in particular) and it made me throw up a lot. I was intentionally eating low carb and unintentionally also really low calorie. I got down that 100 lbs and then I was stuck. I have journals from that period. I was not cheating. I was not over eating for my weight at the time. I was diligent, obsessive, and really, really frustrated.

In 2007 I developed another hernia and the surgeon told me that if I didn’t lose more weight they couldn’t fix it and I would die. So I stuck to low carb and got a little crazy with the calories and I lost another 20 lbs. I also lost my hair, my libido, my energy, my tolerance to cold, and my menstrual cycle went insane, but my TSH was still fine, so it couldn’t possible be a thyroid problem.

In 2011 I finally paid out of pocket for a Reverse T3 test and was not even slightly shocked to see that is was really, really out of range. So then I paid out of pocket to see an Integrative medicine specialist (the doctors who have an MD, but have also studied holistics, herbals, and non standard treatments.) He finally diagnosed my very low thyroid. He diagnosed my trashed adrenals (too many years of extreme dieting, another not-surprise). He diagnosed my trashed gut biome. That was kind of a new thing in 2011.

Then we moved unexpectedly and I lost access to my great new doctor. My weight ballooned with stress and bad eating. My hormones went insane. It was a nightmare. I tried several diets and got absolutely nowhere. Not even the 20 or so lbs I should have been able to count on just from water weight.

Utterly demoralizing.

So I studied more. I fixed my food sensitivities. I lived on homemade soup for about a year trying to solve nutritional deficiencies. I got my thyroid properly propped up. I sorted out my adrenal issues and support as necessary. I spent an entire summer focusing on fixing my gut biome.

I have high hopes that I have fixed the basic non-food issues that caused my problems in the first place.

But what if I didn’t?

My early Weight Watchers results have been good, but I’m now at a set point I’ve been to at least twice in the past. This is the weight I was when low carb stopped working. This is the weight I was when I first did Optifast.

I am absolutely panicked that this is the best I’ll get.

Intellectually I know that isn’t likely. I know that plateaus and stalls are normal. I know that my body is reshaping itself because my clothes are fitting differently. I know that I’m weighing and measuring and following the program. I know there is absolutely no reason that it should stop working right now.

But what if I’m wrong?

I tried telling myself that this new place is better, much better, than where I started. That isn’t helping in the slightest.

So I’m working out my panic in a blog. Because that’s what bloggers do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not your mother’s WW

Back at the beginning of October, Mike and I started Weight Watchers after his cardiologist complained about his weight again, even though all his tests were excellent. I had an epic meltdown dealing with my own issues, and then we settled down.

We both started losing right away. Mike lost nice and steadily, because men are horrible that way, and as a premenopausal woman, I lost in fits and starts, but my progress was acceptable, and I wasn’t really invested in it anyway. I was there for Mike, I was tracking for Mike, and my body, which had declined to pay attention to many diets in the past, would do whatever it was going to do.

We made it past things that were traps for a lot of people in our group. We avoid Halloween candy by ignoring the holiday. We were getting very few trick-or-treaters anyway. We don’t have family nearby, so I bought one portions worth of a few treats for Thanksgiving, and that was that. No issues with leftovers. I had a lovely little birthday party and ate what I felt like for one day, having skipped treats on Thanksgiving, and I felt fine about it.

Then I wound up in the hospital. Twice.

I must say, hospitals are fabulous for weight loss. There was the 4 days I wasn’t allowed to eat while they waited for my gut to wake up after surgery. There were the 2 weeks of recovery when I had the appetite of a toddler. 6 bites every 2 hours. Then there was the week I got progressively sicker and lost my appetite again, the week I was horribly ill on ivs and anti-emetics and barely managed protein bars or shakes once or twice a day. And even after that, I was still healing and recuperating, which are energy intensive.

From my last official weigh in the week after Thanksgiving to the weight taken in my primary care doctors office the week after I got out, I lost 30 lbs. On the one hand, I feel a little weird about ‘claiming’ that, because I didn’t do anything intentional, it just happened. On the other hand, it looks awesome on my graph.

The thing is, in the 2 months since I’ve been home, I’ve dropped another 20 lbs. That I’ll definitely claim, but it’s still been pretty effortless. WW did that for me. This is not your mother’s WW in the days of starvation and shaming. This latest iteration, based on ever changing and improving science, is pretty easy. Here are what I consider the high points.

Points.

It’s a joke. Points are the current cornerstone of the WW system, and they are the reason it works so well for us.

Based on the WW esoteric formula, which probably includes weight, age, and gender, I get a number of points. My meals are made up of a combination of points and zero point foods. Most everything your cardiologist thinks you should eat is zero points. Lean chicken or turkey, salmon, all fresh veggies and fruits. Points are for other stuff like buttered toast, olive oil, or even cookies. It’s all on you, but there is no reason to be stuck with things you don’t like, and no need to ever be hungry. And, as you lose, you also lose points, which is a little sad to see, but it means you don’t have to constantly worry if you are eating too much, or to sit down and do your own math.

Points encourage you to eat real, whole foods. If you have a cup of chopped pineapple and a banana, it’s zero points. If you blend them up into a smoothy, you’re losing some of the benefits of the fiber, and it’s no longer zero. It also digests a lot faster. I have no trouble at all working the points around my various food issues, although I resent a bit that gluten free foods are higher in points then non gluten free.

The food point database makes things very easy. I’ve tried food tracking in the past and it made me completely crazy. Figuring out grams of this and sorting through a huge database of unrelated things all the time. The search function works really well, it’s easy to adjust your portion of whatever according to how much you ate. It remembers what you had the past few days, so your favorites are easy to find.

I have to say, I’m surprised, but ecstatic at my progress. I’m really glad this came up after I spent the summer rebuilding my gut biome and I was really ready for it. It is much, much easier for me than all the years I low carbed when I never felt satisfied. I would highly recommend it.

 

Summer upgrades

This summer, I’m getting upgrades!

NEW KNEES!!!!

I found a surgeon who is willing to take me as a patient, and this summer I’ll be having both knees replaced. The worse knee in July, and the second in September.

Obviously, I’m very excited about it.

Back in 2015 or so when I saw my first orthopedist about why the heck my leg hurt so much, he sadly looked at my xrays and carefully explained that, although there was a lot of damage, I was too young, and too fat, and my knees couldn’t be replaced, so I should go talk to these people about pain management.

I wasn’t in a great place at that point, either physically or emotionally. I didn’t go talk to other surgeons. I didn’t do any research. I just accepted that as a fact, too fat for knee replacement. Somehow I believed it was a limitation of the replacement parts or something. Eventually in 2016 I went to see a pain specialist, and I’ve been working with her ever since to manage some basic functionality. And I’ve just lived with ever decreasing mobility and constant pain.

Fast forward to last winter. My hospital adventures started in an emergency room, and although most of that is hazy because they were very prompt at providing the good drugs, one moment stands out very clearly. I was listing the various medications I’m on for my records, and I think I said “and I’m on x dose of y pain med because of my knees. I have severe osteoarthritis in both knees, but they won’t replace them because I’m too fat.” And the nurse’s reply rang in my head like a bell and I still remember it perfectly, in part because I didn’t expect profanity. She said “That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard. You need to get another opinion.”

Since she’s a nurse in a hospital, I assumed she definitely knew something I didn’t, and I filed that away.

Fast forward to my eventual release from the hospital. The second time. My insurance provided homecare specialists, including 2 therapists, one for arms, and one for legs. I made sure to ask each of them who they thought was the best person locally for knee replacements. They each independently recommended Dr F.

Once I was feeling better, one of the first things I did was call for an appointment.

“I’d like to make a new patient appointment to see Dr F at the Alexandria office.”

“Alexandria, that’s tough, let me see…oh, here’s one next Tuesday.”

“Perfect.”

So I only had to wait a week to get in to see him. By the time the day of the appointment arrived, I was so nervous. I wanted this so much!

Dr. F was a jerk about my weight. But it wasn’t completely superfluous. The statistics are clear, fat patients have more problems and more infections post surgical than normal weight patients. I was not happy that he gave me a long lecture about bariatric surgery and told me to go talk to these people, here’s a pamphlet, as if there was some chance I hadn’t already looked into that option. In truth, by the end of my appointment, I wasn’t perfectly sure he’d accepted me as a candidate until he said “I’ll send the nurse in to schedule.”

It’s on!

Now I am very, very focused on doing everything I can to improve expected outcomes. I’m back in the pool 2 days a week, working as hard as possible. I also found out that they now make seated elliptical machines and I’m using that to improve flexibility in my knees as they are now. When I saw my pain specialist I discussed the need for extra meds so I can manage the pain of more exercise when my latest cortisone shot wears off in about 6 weeks. I’ve always been as sparing as possible with the good drugs, but now that there is an end in sight, I’m willing to take what I need to build strength.

Turns out my pain specialist also respects this surgeon, he’s the one she refers knee patients to. Although she agrees he has the social demeanor of, well, the average surgeon.

I can’t even properly explain how excited I am that I’m going to get my life back.

Am I really doing this?

If you read this post, or really any of my posts, you’ll know I have a lifetime of Issues about dieting, weight loss, and body image. Emotionally, I would rather stay fat than ever face another diet again, ever. Too much trauma. Too many horrible experiences. Too many unintentional physical consequences like seriously messing up my adrenals.

And then my beloved says “I want us to do this together, I need your support.”

And there you are, signing up for Weight Watchers.

We signed up for the six months that would be necessary if either of us wanted to be considered for weight loss surgery. No decisions have been made about that. I don’t think he’ll need it.

We signed up over the weekend so we could check out the specifics. How many points? (plenty) How comprehensive is the database? (Very, even a lot of my specialty foods are in there.) We had already planned to eat two places we enjoy that we won’t be frequenting for a while.

Beloved, who adores data, immediately became obsessive about checking points, entering points, figuring out possible meal combinations, and has in general come in under his points every day. Even the day we had pizza. This surprises me not at all.

I have had several panic attacks. I have had crying fits. I had a dream of my body asking me to please, please, not take her food away again. I’ve been a complete mess.

Let me be clear, my behavior in no way reflects the reality of the WW system. I have ample points. They focus on whole foods and there is absolutely no reason to ever be hungry. There is real flexibility and there is no reason not to indulge in favorite foods on a reasonable basis. Beloved researched very carefully before we got started to make sure it would work with my various food allergies, and without any kinds of frankenfood, which we both avoid. It’s not them. It’s me.

It’s been a week now. In between my fits, I’ve kept track of most of my points, made some very simple changes to a few things, and haven’t been hungry. Or deprived. If my brain and my poor tortured Inner Dieter can catch up to the reality, I can probably make this work and properly support the love of my life.

Whether or not it will make any difference in my weight is a whole other kettle of traumatized fish.

More from the cardiologist

My husband had his two year follow up from the cardiologist the other day. The good news is, he looks great. She’s very pleased. The better news is, he also had a stress test (which he utterly failed 2 years ago before his quadrupal bypass) and he passed with flying colors.

The best news is, he’s finally off the beta blocker, which slows down his heart rate and is known to cause weight gain. The doctor is sure that isn’t his weight loss problem. Really, she’s sure. I think she just doesn’t like that as an answer. Because the last time she cut his dose his slow weight creep stopped, and it has been slowly, painfully inching down, even though his meals (which I procure, so I am certain) haven’t changed a bit.

The bad news is, he got another lecture on being fat and what a risk factor it is for future problems. I am very, very glad he takes his health seriously, but I don’t really love to hear doctors pushing weight loss surgery. There was a conversation about whether or not our insurance really will cover it, despite categorically stating that it doesn’t, but we’ve put that aside for the moment.

Because as a fat woman, you can be certain that 1) I have looked into the surgery and 2) I have friends who have had it. More research will be done, but one thing that seems to be standard is, in order to have the surgery, you must have been in a standardized weight loss program of some sort for 6 months before you  can be approved. And if that is the case, we might as well start there and see if he ever even needs to consider surgery. Which, off beta blockers, I think he won’t need.

And that is how we joined Weight Watchers.

 

Which way is care?

I wrote this some months ago and held it back because it felt too raw, but now it is January and the season of dieting, so it’s time to post it.

On a private forum with women I care dearly for, there have recently been a number of posts about how they are once again getting back on the strict diet wagon in the endless pursuit of a size they like better.

My next thought was that I, too, should get back on the diet bandwagon because there is no question that my life would be easier if I were lighter.

And right after that thought, my stomach clenched. And I was overcome with a very visceral feeling of fear. And it was all I could do not to cry.

This is crazy.

I have spent over half my life depriving myself of food. Punishing myself for being fat. Eating what I ‘should’ even when I really, sincerely, would rather never eat again than have another bite of kale.

Just the passing thought of another strict diet was panic inducing. I can’t. I feel frantic, and sick about the idea. My body is enacting a flight response. It is clear to me that my body and mind find the idea traumatizing.

Even worse than that are the voices ringing through my mind as I type this. The kind ones say I shouldn’t give up on myself. The firm ones tell me no pain no gain and if I just try <insert preferred method> that it will be easy and I’m sure to see results.

The last results I got were burnt out adrenals and a thyroid crisis.

There are even uglier voices in my head too. Quitter. Loser. Fat lazy slob.

At what point does something you do for yourself become something you do to yourself?

Why is cutting bad, but starving yourself good? Why are recreational drugs bad, but damaging your brain chemistry via food is encouraged?

I think about the best eating plan to follow and I feel despair. Another long procession of food that I don’t want. Forcing myself to eat, and yet still so hungry.

Does saying no make me weak? or Strong? Is it self love, or self hate?

If it were a job I hated that much, people who love me would tell me to do everything possible to find another job.

If it were a relationship with a person that caused me such fear and anguish, people who love me would tell me that it’s a bad relationship and that I should remove myself.

Somehow because it is food and fat, the rules are different.

But after a lifetime of self torture, I’m ready to try living a new way, where I might treat myself with love and respect and ignore the voices that tell me I must fit into a mold that is too small for me.

So no more kale for me.

Unico 20.87- the Food.

Food, glorious food!

One of the questions we always have to ask is, can they handle a guest with food allergies. Yes, they did, and they did a fantastic job.

Breakfast and lunch every day was at the 20 87 restaurant, which is an enormous buffet. In the US I am particularly leery of buffets because you can’t be certain what is actually in the food, and cross contamination is a big problem. I ate at their buffet twice a day for 5 days and never had a single issue. You should be impressed.

While they did have all the traditional things an American tourist will expect, made to order omelettes, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, waffles, and pancakes, that was the very least of the breakfast offerings. There was an array of things to make breakfast tacos, which I never fully investigated. There were so many things, I often wished they were still offering breakfast at lunch so I could try things I missed. Every day I had beautiful creamy scrambled eggs and bacon and gluten free bread. Other offerings that rotated were various preparations of potatoes. Poached eggs with salsa, with salsa verde, and some creamy cheesy sauce that I sadly skipped. Several times shredded beef or chicken that was beautifully seasoned. An entire section…six or seven trays…of sliced meats specifically a salami type item that I ate for breakfast and lunch every day. Trays of cheeses that made me sad I can’t eat cheese any more. Tray after tray of cut fruit, the expected watermelon and pineapple, cantaloupe, mango, something I didn’t recognize, and sliced peaches and plums, which was a very nice treat for me.

And a huge selection of every possible pastry that my Beloved enjoyed ruthlessly. On the weekend they offered a selection of gluten free muffins that were lovely.

The juice flowed endlessly, and if you’re a fan of watermelon, I’d just like to recommend fresh squeezed watermelon juice to start your day. Or strawberry juice, if that’s your thing. Definitely my thing, along with orange juice, which was always fresh squeezed and far superior to what I can usually purchase here in the DC area.

Lunch was the same layout. More fruit, cheese, and sliced meats. Made to order lunch steaks, hamburgers, or fish. Tacos. Curries. Random veggies. Interesting potatoes. So much variety every day. Beloved was particularly enamored of the no less than 5 varieties of ceviche that were presented every day. And of course, desserts, if you possibly had any room. The gluten free chocolate chip cookies were very nice.

For less formal lunch or afternoon snacks there were several choices. There were some areas around the pools that were just walk up bars. One specialized in fried fish, one had a big brick pizza oven, one seemed to specialize in sandwiches. I never had room to try them.

For dinner, things were just a bit more formal. The space that was a buffet two meals a day became a steak house. I had to most amazing flank steak possible. It didn’t taste like anything but flank steak, but it was the richest, most tender flank steak you can imagine and I have no idea how they managed it. Beloved had something they called a strip roast, which seems to be what a rib roast would be if you cut it the other direction along the ribs. It was also very good, but we agreed mine was the best tasting.

There was a Italian restaurant that I admit we didn’t try. They do offer a gluten free pasta, but neither of us were particularly intrigued by the menu.

Mura House is their Japanese restaurant. We ate there twice because Beloved adores sushi. Everything he ate was beautiful and he raved about the freshness. They offered gluten free soy sauce, so all the sushi was available to me, except that I don’t care for it. Instead I had custom prepared teppanyaki, which wonderful. They also offered a specialty beverage called a Momo which went down so smooth on a hot day that it’s only by careful pre-planning that I didn’t over do. They are saki, peach liqueur, peach juice, and something else I think. Really spectacular. In this picture Beloved has received his tempura, but we’re still waiting on our drinks. With multiple open grills, I found it a bit warm, hence the fan.

Cueve Siete is their Mexican signature restaurant. It is not what you think of as Mexican, but it was amazing anyway. One night there was table-side fresh to order guacamole. My favorite dish was a beef and sheep’s tongue appetizer that was just amazing, tender and flavorful. Both nights we were there I had the duck as my main course. It was rich and tender and not under cooked the way it often is here where it’s practically raw in the middle. It is not done to lick the plate, but it was difficult to maintain my composure. Sex on the Beach was the drink of choice those nights.

And on the off chance you might possibly still be looking for more food, Cafe Inez was on the walk from the restaurants back to our room and they offered a dangerous selection of desserts, baked goods, and they had a little three-tier case with three lovely gluten free choices, a fantastic apple tart with an almond base, a super rich frosted chocolate brownie-thing, and a lovely crumbly round pastry with a rich sweet taste and a light chocolaty layer in the middle. I’ve never seen one before, but it was delicious.

They took being accessible to those of us with food allergies very seriously. After check-in I was presented with a laminated card with all the food allergies I’d submitted printed on it. I showed this at every restaurant and it was noted down. I think that as they go along they’ll come up with a better method for keeping the information on file, but for now, in their first year of operation, they are obsessively keeping statistics.

It made our experience that much more stress free.

And because it matters to me, so maybe to you, in a conversation with part of the customer care team we ran into on the way back to our room one afternoon, I learned that almost all the food is local, either organically or hydroponically grown. They have a very aggressive recycling policy and have a whole team devoted to minimizing their impact.

Here at home I eat organic as much as possible, and I try to make the freshest choices, but the difference in the  food is astounding. Everything just tasted better there, and I don’t think it was solely because I didn’t have to cook it myself. I think real, fresh, untainted food is a gift it’s hard to get here. I’m not sure we as a culture even know where we’re missing any more.

If you missed the first part, it’s here.

 

 

When they make it right: why fat people should fly Southwest Airlines.

Once upon a time in 2010, Southwest messed up but good. They kicked a fat guy off a plane in a ham handed decision to unevenly apply their rule about larger passengers who encroach on other seats.

They picked the wrong fat guy, because that happened to be Kevin Smith of Mallrats and Dogma fame. He’s a fat guy with a rabidly loyal fan base and a mouth more like Jay than Silent Bob. So, seriously bad move on their part.

On the other hand, every business will eventually publicly make a horrible decision (United anyone?), so what will set them apart is how they fix the issue.

Southwest claimed at the time to have a written policy, and their FAQ says their policy has been in place 30 years. I don’t know. I don’t really need to do that much research on the past when I know they are getting it right today.

Today, Southwest has a clear policy that is easy to find, and actually makes sense, and has worked for me exactly as advertised.

If you need a third seat, you can negotiate at the counter with staff and they may, or may not have one to issue you. Flights these days are often packed completely full. Also, with their boarding method, it doesn’t guarantee you early boarding if you check in later. So the only other spare seat may be in a different row, which is not useful and awkward and embarrassing to fix.

Buy a third seat. Just do it. And when you get home from your trip, call Southwest, give them your details, and they will refund the cost. In full. Super easy. You’ll get your money back in about a week. No fuss, no hassle.

A third seat will guarantee you have the space you need. You’ll even get an extra boarding pass that says reserved seat that you can discretely place in the empty so the Fight Attendants all know why that seat is empty and not include it in the empty count on a full flight.

Your third seat will also allow you priority boarding, meaning you skip the lines and you can pick your spot. It will allow one companion to join you in priority boarding, so you can claim your whole row (not the exit row, don’t be ridiculous) with minimal fuss.

I know it’s an extra expense up front, but it is worth it. My stress levels about travel have fallen dramatically. I have never had a Southwest employee be anything less than professional and pleasant about what I need, and frankly, my extra seat is more comfortable for everyone.

That’s how we got here:

 

 

 

Is it really hate?

I recently read this viral post on Facebook about one woman’s journey to Thin, and how it wasn’t as great as she’d always been told it would be. (It was such a big hit that Cosmo did an article on the post.)

A life long fat person, she finally decided that society was right, and everything that was wrong with her life was because she was fat.

I felt deep inside that as long as I was fat, I wasn’t going to be able to stop hating myself enough to ask for more. So much cultural messaging says that if you are fat, you should be grateful for whatever love you can get – even if that love isn’t love at all.

So she went on a program of extreme weight loss. She doesn’t detail her method, because that’s not what this is about. I’m sure it was calorie restrictive and exercise abusive, because that’s what she says, and she got down to a place called Thin.

And you know what? Every horrible voice in my head, every bit of horrible anti-fat messaging from society was validated when I lost weight.

Attention from the opposite sex and better jobs and everyone was nicer and more thoughtful. The heartfelt dream of every fat person in America.

For five years, I got to be treated like a human being.

And it pissed me the fuck off.

I think that quote, right there, is one of the most important things she says in the whole piece. We the fat are told that all our problems will go away if we can just get to Thin. So she did. And sure enough everything was fixed and everyone was nice, even though she was exactly the same as she’d always been.

I understand completely. Glennon Doyle Melton talks in some of her interviews about how women are taught to be smaller and smaller and take up less space until we’re barely even there. Being fat flies in the face of this cultural imperative. Not only that, we do it on purpose. It’s a different kind of prejudice than racism, because your skin color is luck of the draw. If you’re fat, It’s Your Fault. So we deserve every molecule of heaped scorn and derision. No accomplishment can ever balance out the size of your behind. It boils us down to one, single aspect of ourselves and balances the entire universe of our experience on that soft, jiggly fact.

Statistics prove that We the Fat make less money, get less comprehensive medical care, have fewer opportunities, and miss out on more social niceties than those of normal weight. Put a normal weight person in a fat suit and they are horrified and astonished every time. It’s not codified. There is no law that allows it. But it is unending and universal.

Then life happened, and she didn’t have time to obsess about every bite of food she put in her mouth, and she didn’t have time to exercise every day. And she had a baby. And over time, she put all the weight back on. And now she doesn’t care, and she’s going to fight a society that says she has to.

My allegiance lies with fat me who missed out on half of her life because society said that she didn’t have the right to live it. …My allegiance lies with every kind and wonderful person out there who is told that they have nothing to offer the world because their body takes up too much space.

The second line that really, really stuck in my head is this.

I will not give the abusive assholes who say that they matter more because they weigh less the satisfaction of watching me hate myself into a small enough body to be loved by them.

Is the obsessive dieting and the endless determination to be thin at all cost a form of self hate, rather than the self love that society and medical professionals tell us it should be?

Frankly, I haven’t decided what I think yet. They tell us to diet to be healthier, but it hasn’t actually done me any good in the long run. Extreme dieting isn’t sustainable, every bit of data and research proves that. Yo-yo dieting is worse than no dieting at all. The research shows us that too. Did I diet all those years because I loved myself and wanted to be healthier? Or because I hated myself and wanted to be the ‘good girl’ that society wanted to see?

I think I know the answer, and I think I don’t like it.

Ironing out a few things.

I always associate canker sores with stress. When my mouth was suddenly covered in them even though nothing really exciting was going on, I turned to Dr. Google. Where I discovered that nutritional deficiencies can cause them. Particularly iron and B12.

Well, B12 should have been fine because I’d recently had a conversation with a friend who mentioned that metformin causes B12 malabsorption. Really? ‘Cause I’ve been on metformin over a year and I don’t recall anyone mentioning it to me. I did my research and have both a liquid and a spray. I think it helped my energy levels some.

Iron though. I’ve never had any trouble giving blood and I’ve always eaten plenty of red meat, so my iron levels were probably fine. Right? Not so much.Iron can also be a cause of peeling flaking nails, which I’d suddenly come down with too. Hmm. My favorite thyroid site has a lot to say about iron. Specifically ferritin vs serum iron. I talked with my usual group of fellow sufferers and got myself an iron supplement.

Wow.

Talk about flipping a switch. Nothing has made that big a difference since I found selenium. Which, by the way, is also much discussed by my favorite thyroid site.

Before selenium, I just hurt, everywhere, all the time. Life was a lot better once I started supplementing. I’ve leveled off at about once per week. But I was still pretty limp and my default state was something I call ‘couch zombie’. A state where I had things to do, and I’d sort of like to do them, but it just isn’t possible to find forward motion, or even to sustain it once moving. It was fairly horrible. Iron is the key to defeating the couch zombie. Who knew? It isn’t in the apocalyptical literature. But it’s helped me a lot. My canker sores went away almost immediately. My nails have stopped shredding. But moving past couch zombie has been huge.

If nothing else, I’m certainly blogging more regularly!

I’m not where I’d like to be, but I no longer feeling like I’m traveling the road of life on a cart with square wheels. Time to work on picking up some speed!