Big Fat Irony

Recently, I went to the gyno and listened to my first “weight talk.”  Fun.  What I find most apalling is that I didn’t realize how ironic all this was until a couple of months after this appointment…

When I was a normal weight (or thin depending on the eye of the beholder), my doctors were very happy with my condition.  Never mind that I was falling apart.  I was painfully cold all the time.  I couldn’t think my way out of a paper bag, due to the malnutrition due to extreme restriction.  Almost any food or drink consumption caused painful indigestion.  For some reason, I was constantly in the bathroom cuz even just a little liquid in my bladder caused a feeling or urgently needing to pee.  I had migraines three or four times a week on average.  My lips turned blue during my workouts.  My complection was often grayish.  I couldn’t help but binge on a regular basis from all the restriction.  My hair was thinning.  A paper cut would take weeks to heal.  Walking to school in even a sprinkle of a rainshower WITH an umbrella almost always caused me to catch a cold.  Colds almost always turned into bronchitis.  Bronchitis generally lasted six months each bout.  My asthma symptoms were often painful and I used my inhaler several times a day. 

The only concern I remember any doctor voicing was about the copious amount of caffeine that I drank.  No one cared about the restriction or the sypmtoms that went with it.  Perhaps they just thought I was sickly… if so, they were naive. 

I got treatment for my eating disorder and my weight has gone up and down depending on what anti-depressant I’m on.  The one I’m on right now caused me to gain about three dress sizes…. and now the doctors wanna talk to me about weight loss.  I wanna smack these doctors in the face with a shovel.  I am HEALTHIER than ever… but of course that doesn’t matter, cuz I’m fat.  Wha…?

My asthma hardly ever makes a peep.  I don’t even catch all the colds that my husband catches and walking outside in wet weather no longer causes the default cold or flu.  As people go, I’m still pretty cold blooded, but I’m no longer painfully cold all the time.  Doctors keep mentioning that my weight must be causing horrible blood pressure problems for me.  Yeah… then they check my bp and find that my bp is LOW.  My bp is low AND I take ritalin… a med that increases blood pressure.  Yeah, my weight is really sending my bp sky high!  Everyone get your helmets – I could explode any minute from this extremely high blood pressure! 

My stomach no longer gives me all the trouble it used to.  I still have a sensitive tummy, but I no longer dread eating or drinking anything for fear of some nasty indigestion that could potentially last for hours.  I no longer have daily acid reflux.  My hair is beautiful again.  Maybe some of the thinning is permanent, but whatever.  I’m not about to beat myself up for spilled milk that I have worked very hard to mop up over the years.  I seem to have been one of the lucky ones who got some of their hair fullness back after years of restriction though.  My complexion looks healthy today.  No more gray.  Paper cuts heal so much faster now.  I’m no longer covered in mystery bruises.  I haven’t had bronchitis in a few years now.  Whooo hoooo!  Migraines are now rare for me. 

But, now, all of a sudden, I’m getting all these health lectures when I’m healthier than ever… and when I was starving myself and at a normal weight, I felt like I was constantly screaming for attention to my numerous health issues and still doctors ignored me, because I LOOKED healthy (to them) merely because I was thin.  Everyone knows that thin equals healthy, right?  😛

I suspect my weight is about to go back down again due to changes in the anti-depressant that caused my weight to go up.  My feelings about all this is mixed.  I’m not sure whether to be pissed for being (potentially anyway) treated differently and escaping the fat = unhealthy rhetoric or relieved not to hear that ignorant stuff anymore from ignorant doctors when I feel vulnerable enough wearing paper clothes and maybe even having my lady parts poked at with ouchy instruments.  Meh. 

The anti-depressant that caused my weight gain worked well in helping my depression for quite some time.  Even as it made me fat, I didn’t care.  I was HAPPY!  My psychiatrist seemed to not understand how I could go from “normal” to fat and actually get happier.  He offered to change my meds simply to help me lose weight.  For those of you who have never been on psych meds, I will explain what a ridiculous offer he made.  Changing psych meds is a big deal.  It can takes weeks, months or even years to find a med that works and doesn’t cause horrible side effects for you once you and your doc decide a med change is in order.  Changing anti-depressants is not like changing from Advil to Tylenol for your headaches.  Changing psych meds can be a long and painful journey.  If you work full-time, it can be even more difficult, because changing meds (even changing onto a med that works really well for you) can cause weeks of symptoms in getting used to the new med and withdrawling frmo the old meds.  For me, this generally means nausea, migraines, a short fuse, forgetfulness and being very easily flustered for at least two weeks.  It is no freakin’ joke…. and I’m supposed to volunteer for this merely because an otherwise lovely anti-depressant made me fat???!!!  ARE YOU KIDDING ME????  I made it clear to my psychiatrist that I’d far rather be fat and happy than be a normal weight and depressed or going through unnecessary psych med change difficulties. 

The rebellious part of me would like to stay fat (even though I’ve quit the med that caused my fatness because it stopped working for me) just to make my psychiatrist uncomfortable and to avoid the “you’ve lost weight!  how did you do it!?!” talk from my co-workers.  But, that misses the whole body and size acceptance point.  I believe in letting my body be what it wants to be…. and so, I will… whether that means weight changes or not.  Whatevs.  I’d rather be fat and happy and sane and healthy… or whatever size my body naturally is and happy/healthy/sane.  To my pdoc’s chagrin, I won’t be chucking future potential meds either if they make me fat or fatter.  Maybe I can teach him a thing or two myself.  He does seem to be fairly receptive…

If and when your doctors get ignorant on you, I hope you remember that you’re not alone and just cuz a doc is a doc doesn’t mean that they are always right.  Hang in there, friends.  I’m rooting you on… as I hope you root me on in my own journey. 

–AngryGrayRainbows