Because of the impact of Covid, I’ve not been able to strongly challenge myself in the health department. That is not to say I’ve not had challenges. Boy, have I had challenges!
Being middle aged does have its conundrums. Men have it a bit easier. I don’t get their metabolism and I don’t want to paint with a small brush, so I’ll paint with a broad one. It’s completely unfair that their hormones allow them to eat, drink a beer, have some soda, and have some cake and not gain weight. Then, if they want to lose weight, they drop the beer. Done.
I’m not advocating for beer, I’m simply making a point.
Caveat: This point comes from anecdotal experience not personal.
Still, it’s not fair. At all.
So, needless to say women not only start out their womanhood with a RUSH of hormones (teenage daughter, anyone?) but they also end with a splurge of hormones for good measure (menopause, anyone?). Sigh. The weight loss train is an unfair trip for sure. I think I’m in the caboose.
Anywho, I think the hardest part of any health journey is the food. For starters, our parents….well, I can’t blame them, really. Some older people had parents who said, “There are starving people in X country; clean your plate to demonstrate you are grateful for your food.” Why did they do that? They created monsters of overeaters. Right…..right!? Then there were the other types of parents. Those parents fed their kids whatever the kid wanted. “You want pancakes instead of grapefruit and a poached egg? Okay, sweetheart. I understand. Here you go.” Those eaters just eat whatever they like; no choice is denied. Lastly, some people had harsh parents who said, “Eat this, don’t eat this. I don’t care. I’m only required to give you three hots and a cot.” So, those people might grow up with a rebellious eating pattern, always eating what the choose because now they can. Choose, that is.
LOL….it could be none of those things, but casting blame makes it more palatable. Bud uh bump.
So here I am, midlife. I eat. Usually whatever I make my family. I can’t make something special or different or diet specific. I have a hard time saying no to seconds of something I like, and an even harder time saying goodbye to food I’ve made because I don’t like to throw it away. This means that my lunches sometimes are maybe leftovers, and more calorie dense, then another option. Maybe.
Whatever the reason, I have to curtail my eating. It’s one of the hardest parts of growing older. Not only choices, but amount and times of eating. I can no longer eat almost any sugar past 7 p.m. I’ll go to bed fine. Wake up at 3 a.m. BING….time to get up. Ugh, it’s annoying.
Let’s not even begin with genetics. Thank you, gene pool. I must be swimming in the jelly pool.
So I have an endocrinologist. Nothing fancy. I have a lovely condition called PCOS. Have I mentioned it here before? Anyway, one attribute of said condition is obesity. Or, at least it could be. I’m lucky. I get to carry that attribute around with me in my wallet. It’s a souvenir. The endocrinologist helps me keep an eye on my thyroid. My jelly pool makes it so that half of me may end up with a sleepy thyroid, so we keep an eye on it. In turn, this doctor has given me two, TWO, different diet pills. Neither worked. Nope. Dropped the 1o water weight. Then, stalled.
I started with a new primary care who is delightful! She has assigned me another opportunity with another diet pill. I’ve now been on it for three nights. I’m at a low 25 mg so far. Not sure what it’s supposed to do. I have read its supposed to suppress my appetite, make pop taste flat, that sort of thing. I don’t drink much soda, and frankly I don’t eat when I’m famished….so we’ll see how it goes.
Hopefully I’ll be able to manage walking or some form of consistent exercise to help burn calories. Any calories whatsoever. I did over 2 hours of gardening yesterday. Got some good sweating and at least 20 bug bites out of it. Off to a good start I’d say. Or, actually, it’s not a start. Thing about me is I do exercise, just not consistently.
Anyone else?
I can run or do cardio or walk for a few weeks and go 3-4 times a week to start. Then something comes up, distracts my routine for a week, and boom. I’m back at square one. I end up missing two or three weeks. It’s disappointing. Thankfully I don’t drown my sorrows in a box of cookies or anything. I’m not an overeater that way. I’m not even a sorrower that way.
Frankly I’m already disappointed I’m posting this blog, because I have walked this out a few times before. I start out with high hopes, and then it doesn’t work out, and I’m frustrated. Maybe this time my hopes are just medium. Medium hopes. I have average hopes that it’ll help and work out. There. Now I can anticipate less than frustration if it doesn’t work out. Maybe it’ll be annoyance. Medium hope and annoyance. Is that too pessimistic?
Yes, yes I need help with losing weight. PCOS is a terrible taskmaster. Yes, I’ve tried metabolic means and methods; other diets; trends; and approaches. I cannot do vegetarian, either. Absolutely not. I think any and all faux protein like tofu is nasty so there’s that and it makes me uber gassy. I can’t be popping Gas X like qualudes. People will talk.
I don’t do milk. I use almond milk. Because almonds can be milked. I do like eggs. Eggs are good.
So, we’ll see how this aide pans out. If it works. Wonderful! It’s an aide, not a cure all. Heck, I’ll take hand clapper at this point. Anything is better than nothing.