the b word

I was casually watching Instagram stories the other day when comedian Whitney Cummings shared an old clip of a stand up routine she did. In the clip Whitney gives her definition of love and after becoming a married woman I would have to say I find it to be one of the best definitions I’ve ever heard. She said, “To me, love is being willing to die for someone, that you yourself want to kill.” Can I get an AMEN?! Sounds like marriage to me. Nobody told me there would be days like this. I love my husband something fierce and in this life we are best friends and each others biggest supporters BUT that hasn’t stopped me from threatening to become the next woman to have her own episode of snapped if he doesn’t stop driving me crazy.

I think after nearly nine years together and all of the truly wild life events and growing pains we have survived, I have the ability to share my thoughts on marriage. We decided long before we ever got married that for us this was a one and done deal. My parents have each been divorced twice, my family has divorce or annulment covered, some of my best friends have already been through a divorce and my in-laws just went through divorce after nearly thirty years of marriage. There is absolutely NO judgement from me and I know in every one of these instances it was the absolute best decision that they could have made, we just decided for us it’s not an option. Come hell or high water this shit is till death do us part so work it out or dump a body, we are going to make it till the end. Nobody told us what a challenge this might be on the hard days.

I remember being anxious the day we got married, during the planning of a very expensive wedding Kellan and I decided to run off to Vegas and elope. I was anxious because being the over-analyzing-people-pleaser that I am, I was afraid to let anyone down with our decision to elope. Nobody tells you your wedding day may be more stress and anxiety than love and romance, in fact some people believe if you are nervous before getting married you are making a wrong decision. As for my case, I completely disagree. As excited as I was to be marrying Kellan, I was nervous because this was the biggest decision I had ever made in my life thus far and I was having so many emotions because I WAS GETTING FREAKING MARRIED! I wouldn’t change our elopement, all of the anxiety aside there is something so special about it having been just he and I together and I cherish the memories of that day. It was such a simple ceremony. I didn’t even wear a wedding dress. It was us, a pastor and photographer. A small little chapel on the outskirts of Vegas, and I LOVED it.

When we got married I imagined a happily ever after, enjoying a long romantic honeymoon and spending life in utter bliss. I wasn’t prepared for the reality it’s just normal daily life but now I was someones wife. Since Kellan and I eloped we didn’t have the big celebration, no bachelor or bachelorette parties or the gifts, no bridal shower or wedding registry, no honeymoon or moving into a brand new house. We drove to Las Vegas for a four day weekend, got our marriage license Friday afternoon, we were married on Saturday and after exploring Vegas as newlyweds on Sunday, we drove home on Monday.

Smacked back into reality of full time school and navigating our newlywed life. We still had to deal with the damn daily’s. Someone (me) leaving their wet towel on the bed, someone (him) leaving his big clog stomping shoes out for me to trip over. Finding balance between being a housewife and not wanting to be his maid, between wanting my opinion to matter and not wanting to be a nag and trying to embrace our new level of adulthood, maturity and everything we thought that encompassed.

A few short months into our marriage my girlfriend called me, she had also recently gotten married and we just needed to vent about our husbands and being someone’s wife and how fucking hard everything felt. It was incredibly eye opening to recognize we weren’t alone, it felt freeing to hear her say, “I hate my husband today.” and to laugh and say, “Girl, me fucking too. What were we thinking?” In all reality we weren’t really reconsidering our choice to get married, we had married the most incredible guys and to this day we are both so happy and blessed, but FUCK. Some days you just want to kill them and its apparently N.O.R.M.A.L!

I remember getting off the phone and immediately calling my mom. How could she not have told me, why would she lie to me like that. My mom just chuckled and said, “Oh honey, OF COURSE it’s normal, it’s real life. You are going to have days where you can’t stand each other and then you are going to have days where forever together wont seem long enough. I am sorry I didn’t tell you that, I guess I hoped for you the driving you crazy part wouldn’t come quite yet.”

Heres the thing, no matter who it is, if you spend every single day with someone and live together, building your life together, you will get annoyed or frustrated. Its human nature to need and want your own space some times. It is healthy to have stuff you enjoy together and to also have time with your own friends or alone. You are sharing everything and that can be exhausting but it is also so rewarding.

There are days I can’t get enough of spending time with Kellan, he is cracking me up and we are dancing in the kitchen while dinner cooks. Days where I picture us growing old together and how I hope I never have to face life without him by my side. Days where it really is everything I ever hoped for. Then there are the days that I swear he is finding joy in making me crazy, days where if he crunches his snack next to me one more time it will be the last thing he does on this planet. You know the days I am talking about, the days where you think about taking a drive and just never stopping, on those days I tell him I love him but I don’t particularly like him and I am going to go take a bath because he is driving me nuts. It is so important to recognize that those feelings are always fleeting and usually a product of something else. It is also very important to know that it really is ok to feel that way, on occasion. Now if you feel that way more than you don’t thats a topic for another day.
Marriage is so many crazy, beautiful, infuriating things but it is the best damn decision I have EVER made. I think it is so terribly wonderful to have someone see you for all that you truly are. We see each other at our absolute worst, when we should be embarrassed and begging God for forgiveness. We see each other celebrate successes and joyful times where you are riding the best high of your life. It is having the person to hold you in the sorrow and cheer you on as you take on the world. I couldn’t imagine doing life with anyone else, even on the days I could knock him out.

So if nobody told you, I am here to say its totally ok if you don’t like your spouse 100% of every damn day, don’t smother them with a pillow just go for a run, read a book, take a bath or call a friend and remember that, hopefully, even if you don’t like them everyday, you do love them every single day!

Disclaimer, shit’s about to get real. I have made a vow to be completely transparent and honest and that includes all the dirty details. If you’re not comfortable with bodily fluids or trips to the porcelain God, I suggest you skip this post.

Now back to our regularly scheduled programing.

In case you’re new here, my month one was in the summertime of 2018, clearly we are currently 6+ months ahead in time. This is my glimpse into what I experienced in my first month after being diagnosed.

Ok, so I’ve gone to the doctor, went through all of the testing, Ive been diagnosed and prescribed some medication, so whats next? If you’ve been down this road you already know but for those of you that have had the privilege of skipping this stop on your journey through life, let me break it down for you. To start, in my case, I had to do a round of Medroxyprogesterone Acetate accompanied with iron supplements and started low and slow on one dosage of Metformin/day along with prenatal vitamins. (Some people have little to no issues with metformin, others like me have terrible tummy troubles as you will soon find out).

One of the biggest risk factors of PCOS is endometrial and ovarian cancer. Any build up of your uterine liner is dangerous but since I hadn’t had a cycle in over 14 months Morgan said my build up was massive and she was really concerned. We discovered during my appointment that some weird things were happening. I told Morgan I hadn’t had a real period but had lightly been spotting for several months. After my exam, Morgan said she believed I wasn’t spotting, but instead she thought my uterus was so full from lack of cycling that blood was literally leaking out of my body. Morgan explained that my lack of periods was extremely dangerous and decided we needed to force my body to flush its system. She said this was going to be ‘a real bear’ but to know that it beats the alternative, the big C. I agreed she was right and I was ready for the process. Morgan said if her assumptions were right, after the flush the spotting should stop.

Let me just pause for a second to say, NO amount of preparation could have prepared me for this system flush. NONE.

Ok, so to start you have to take a series of pills over the duration of five days. After day five your system is supposed to be shocked into a full flush and shed. First of all, the Medroxyprogesterone Acetate makes you feel like garbage. Full on dry heaving nausea, massive headaches, sore breasts, PMS mood swings and insomnia. So basically it’s super enjoyable, but don’t worry friends, it gets better.

After day 5 your supposed to start your period. My body required an additional two days to get it together. This is where the fun really starts. This is unlike ANY period you have ever had. It started off slow with some mild cramping and spotting…. and then the flood gates opened. Disclaimer again-you have been warned twice, but for the sake of honesty and realness I’m not about to sugarcoat anything, proceed with extreme caution or curiosity-you decide.

Ok, the ‘bear’ of a period, as Morgan so eloquently named it, was a freaking B.A.S.T.A.R.D. The amount of pain from these cramps sent me into a tail spin. I would have slapped my own mama for some sort of pain reliever. You cannot sleep, you are literally having such a heavy flow that you are leaking after less than an hour…through a super plus tampon AND a pad. I started taking baths every couple of hours throughout the day just to get any sort of relief. There were moments when I would sit on the toilet and just let it drain because what was the point, I actually fell asleep, twice, seated on the toilet.

You are this pain encompassed zombie migrating through life and pretty much assume death is near. I had to call my mother on several occasions because the amount of blood or the characters accompanying said blood was enough to cause concern. Never in my 28 years on this earth had I experienced giant, gelatinous clots-like the size of your finger-thats enough to scare anyone. I thought I needed to go to the hospital immediately. Spoiler alert…..apparently it was all normal. cute. Eventually I was so emotional and exhausted from lack of sleep and constantly leaking everywhere I called my Mom asking for any advice. She told me to create a make shift diaper out of boxer briefs (thanks to my husband) and pads, that should allow some time between bathroom breaks, she also said to lay a towel down on my side of the bed, curl up with my heating pad and let whatever happens, happen. Thankfully, her advice worked and allowed me to rest in three hour stretches in stead of the crappy 45 minutes to an hour I was barely getting before.

The other fun circus I had joined was Metformin. Now I was told this was going to suck, bad. But Morgan said it usually lasts a week, sometimes two after each new dosage. So, being the brains that I am, I decided to time it so my hell week with my period coincided with my beginning of Metformin so I didn’t spend my entire month incomprehensibly sick and miserable. I don’t know if the jokes on me or if it really was the smartest thing to do but I have NEVER suffered so much through a sickness in my life.

Metformin is a total bitch. Some call it the devil. It was originally created as a pill to help treat diabetes but they learned that on top of regulating glucose in the body, it also helps to regulate insulin in insulin resistant patients. This pill, later it becomes pillS, has the ability to control your entire day. Not only does metformin make you feel like shit, it also makes you shit…. like A LOT and Oh LORT does it hurt. You know that scene on bridesmaids where they all get food poisoning and Melissa McCarthy’s character is shitting in the sink screaming, “It’s coming out of me like lava”, while she sweats profusely….yeah, like that. I know we are supposed to be ladies and never even admit to going poop let alone talk about it on the internet but friends, when you experience the metformin poo’s you can either cry, which i did..a lot, or you can laugh about it with your internet friends in your copious PCOS support groups. (& also on this blog because this is a real part of my life now hahaha) To be honest the worst trips to the bathroom happen after lettuce, of all things. See your DR will tell you that eating bad, such as a meal heavy in carbs or refined sugar, amplifies the side effects of the medication, but forgets to mention some healthy foods can cause even worse reactions. Apples, FORGET ABOUT IT, any type of leafy green that you could use for a salad….LAVA. Add in body aches, dry heaves, waves of nausea, supreme gassiness with loud farts like a grown man after a day spent elbow deep at the buffet and the new fun trips when your sugar drops and you get hot flashes that turn into dizzy spells or worse. It all can spiral REAL fast, but this was my new life and  I quickly learned what to do to be successful and less miserable. All I had to do is eat regularly, make healthier choices with my meals, not let my sugars drop and never, EVER eat another salad.

Hi my name is Brennah and I struggle with infertility.

(group response : Hi Brennah)

So this is support group. Well kind of. We didn’t actually go around the room and announce our alcoholism.. er…infertility…but we kind of did. Let me back up.

A few months ago a friend of mine made a post on Facebook about a local support group she was going to be the peer leader of, it was for anyone struggling with infertility. No matter where you were in your fertility journey, male or female etc everyone was welcome. I saw people commenting on the post but at this point we hadn’t really told anyone of my diagnosis. People in our inner circle knew of our struggles to conceive over the last four years and a select few knew I went to see Morgan, but the vast majority of those in our life had no idea what was going on. I was always so embarrassed about my inability to get pregnant that whenever anyone asked if we were going to have kids or when we planned on getting pregnant, I would just smile and say, “not right now”. Anyway, my point is I wasn’t ready to announce to the masses what I felt was our private business. I decided to message my friend privately and ask some questions about the group. She told me where it was going to be held and invited me to join the group. She was so kind to me and made me feel really comfortable so I decided to share my diagnosis and ask if it would be a good fit for the group even though we were currently treating my problems and putting baby-making on the back burner. She said I was absolutely a good fit, she too struggled with PCOS on top of some other issues and was happy to have me join.

I have to say that her ability to be so open and honest with me made me feel comfortable enough to consider going to the meetings. Like I said, there was a sense of shame that I wasn’t able to shake and it really hindered my ability to open up about our years of struggling.

In the weeks leading up to the meeting I went through a multitude of emotions because honestly when I am left to my own curiosity anxiety tends to get the better of me. I am working on that. I went back and forth on if we would actually go through with it and show up but after the major turn in depression and my new-found hermit-y tendencies, my husband and I agreed it could only help to check it out.

OK-so let’s fast forward to the day of our first group meeting. I had convinced my husband to come along which honestly took minimal convincing because I’m pretty lucky and he is very supportive. We didn’t really know what to expect and I was so anxious that I would feel uncomfortable and not want to share. We agreed we would only share if it felt right, otherwise we would just listen and take it all in.

I didn’t want to be late, I remember we went to town to run errands and decided to just kill time in town because I was so anxious that if we went home I wouldn’t have the courage to still go to group.

We got to group right as it was starting and found our seats. This was the first meeting of this group as the rest are located in Seattle, so attendance wasn’t very high but we didn’t have much to compare it to since we’ve never attend the others up north. This meeting consisted of us, the peer leader (my friend) and two other women. Due to the anonymity of support group I cannot share any details other than to say, this group breathed a life in me that had been missing since my official diagnosis. It also showed me some of the darker sides of infertility that, until now, Kellan and I had been blissfully unaware of.

Our infertility struggles up to this point had just been an inability to conceive and some minor doctor appointments and testing, since we had never conceived we never suffered the loss of a child in utero or any scary issues during pregnancy, etc. I am beyond thankful that we have been spared that heartache thus far and comparatively we are so lucky, but please understand our struggles with infertility is the only journey we have known and it has been heartbreaking none the less.

If memory serves me, when it was my turn to introduce myself I cracked a joke about being an alcoholic because that was the only kind of support group I have any frame of reference to. (I would like to note I take that topic very seriously and my joke was not intended to offend anyone suffering with alcohol or dependency, or anyone in a recovery program-it was simply a way to cut my anxiety through humor. If you know me, you know I would NEVER intentionally hurt someone.) I wasn’t sure how much I would feel comfortable sharing with a group of strangers but once I got started it was flowing out of me pretty easily.

One thing no one tells you, even when you think you know you have something or you know something is wrong with you, getting the official diagnosis-while relieving-also causes a whirlwind of emotions. You initially scare yourself with the major ‘what if’s’ of the future and the worst case scenarios. Then you bring yourself back down to reality and start researching anything you can find about your new diagnosis, the medication and what this really means for your every day life. It is a process and sometimes it is so overwhelming and you feel very isolated. Word to the wise, don’t let yourself go down the rabbit hole of what if’s, you are only borrowing trouble. The women in this group could all relate on some level to what I was feeling and we shared in the nods and “uh-huhs” when another was speaking. There is something really special about feeling truly understood and heard when confessing some of your darkest thoughts and hardest moments.

Up to this point my circle of people who could relate to my journey was very minimal but thanks to our support group and a couple of girlfriends on a similar journey, I was able to make some new connections and even joined some online support groups. If you are struggling with infertility, PCOS or endometriosis you should check out Facebook for some online support groups. I know it sounds odd because believe me I still have days where I am not sure its the right thing for me BUT I am thankful to have that outlet and also tens of thousands of women going through similar struggles that are super supportive and also helpful with any question I might have. Luckily when I don’t feel like posting my feelings or asking any questions there is inevitably someone already talking about what I was hesitant to share.

I am beyond blessed to have some tremendous people in my life that have, on multiple occasions, reached out and offered any and everything they can to help during this journey, but it is so hard to accept any help from someone who doesn’t really understand whats going on. This is where I think support group, both in person and online,  made a difference for me. Having an outlet to share the selfish feelings or outrageous behavior of the past months/few years was soooooooooo helpful. It is incredible the things you can let go of when you allow yourself to talk about and fully process them. If group, be it online or in person, isn’t your thing, I still encourage you to talk to someone. Seek out a counselor, share with your spouse, sister, mother or friend. Talking to anyone will help kill the feelings of isolation and the nagging depression that comes with it. I will always be grateful for our group for giving me that possibility and I am beyond thankful to the people who encouraged me to share my thoughts here, this has been so therapeutic for me as well. 

After four years of trying to conceive and copious health issues along the way, I finally took the plunge and decided to schedule yet another appointment for testing, this time with an OB/midwife specializing in PCOS. You see, I’ve known there was an issue for YEARS. Aside from my massive weight influx, I lost my period, for months at a time, sometimes over a year stretches in between. I started having acne and CHIN HAIRS. Not just your average, adult woman with german heritage chin hairs…we are talking 17 showing up in one day or a long black one hiding under your double chin that your husband so effortlessly plucks because he thought it was a stray hair from your dog. Those chin hairs. Yup, those pesky bastards were one of my least favorite symptoms of all. I became increasingly anxious and depressed and was having wild mood swings. I was rarely able to sleep and constantly sick. My immune system was shot and I felt like a complete basket case.

Years ago, when I first started missing my period for a significant amount of time, I went to see a gynecologist. I had never really experienced a super regular period but I always eventually got one. After my examination, I was told it was very common to miss a period and that I was most likely still ovulating just not shedding my liner. The doctors told me not to be concerned. At this time I had already gained about 30lbs after our move to AZ and the lack of my periods was chalked up to stress and weight gain. I didn’t think anything of it and with no other real issues decided to move on.

I should add that my husband and I believe in God. We don’t actively attend church but we pray and have a belief in God’s timing, for awhile when we tried to conceive we believed it wasn’t happening because it wasn’t our time. This may have helped with some of the grief we experienced with infertility but it didn’t explain the health issues i was experiencing, but the doctors had already said everything was fine so we continued to practice and pray. While I still VERY MUCH believe in God’s timing, I also believe in being your own advocate and receiving medical treatment for something that is so clearly wrong.

One of my very best girlfriends had shared in my struggles to conceive and we compared our health issues and some of the strange symptoms we were experiencing. She was diagnosed first and encouraged me to get a multitude of tests done to see if I also had a similar diagnosis.

We were living in TN when I tried to get a more specified group of tests done. My doctor at the time was not familiar with PCOS and while I had some irregularities, ultimately he decided my issues were a direct effect of my weight gain, 72lbs at this time, and told me to try harder to lose the weight. Like my previous failed attempts I would lose a little weight and slowly nothing I did would help. I tried diet pills, calorie restriction, excessive working out. All I was doing was poorly feeding my system and ultimately gaining weight.

When we made the decision to move home I remember my girlfriend saying she was thrilled that she could finally send me to see her doctor. I was so uncomfortable with the idea of receiving a negative diagnosis that I put it off for nearly the first year. It wasn’t until the next wave of weight gain and the realization I hadn’t had a period in over a year that I decided to bite the bullet and make the appointment. If something was wrong it would be better to find out and start a treatment plan.

I was so anxious I couldn’t help but cry. I cried on the way to the doctor, I cried in the waiting rom, I cried when I was weighed in and ultimately had a small breakdown when trying to talk to the doctor. Heres the thing, this was SOOOOOOO much more than the health problems or the weight gain. This was me acknowledging that there was an issue and being terrified I would be told my biggest fear, that I wouldn’t be able to have my own biological children.

All of my young adult life I have wanted nothing more than to be a mother. I’ve wanted five children for as long as I can remember. Now the idea of giving birth to five children is daunting but I still would like a yard full of kids none the less. There has been this fear deep in my gut for many years that it may be hard or even impossible. (Over four years of trying to get pregnant will do that to you) You want to talk about praying, I have prayed something FEIRCE for God to bless me with the natural ability to have a child. I have begged, pleaded and bargained. The thing is, you cant get pregnant if you don’t have a period/ovulate. You shouldn’t get pregnant if you are obese and have the added risks of complications. This is where I found myself. So I had to talk to Morgan and get some testing done to find out once and for all, is there a bigger issue here or am I really just super fat.

In total I have gained 135lbs since Kellan and I decided to pack our bags and head to the desert for school. That is basically an entire person. I received this glorious news when I went in for my first appointment with Morgan to get tested for PCOS. She didn’t know me from Adam, so she wasn’t aware of my initial struggles. The nurse weighed me and I was already crying, so here we go, I thought, time for another doctor to tell me everything is a direct result of my fatness. Thankfully, that was so not the case.

When Morgan came into the room she was so beautiful and kind. She looked me in the eye when she spoke and she made me feel so comfortable. She was every bit the saving grace my girlfriend had talked her up to be. Even though she was great my nerves got the best of me and when she asked me what had ultimately brought me to see her I cried, hard, like snot nosed sobs. She was incredible. She handed me a tissue and said, ‘I know this is a heavy emotional topic so lets lighten the mood. Tell me about yourself.’ That was the little bit of grace I needed to pull myself together and start the conversation.

After my initial examination and testing, Morgan told me I was the poster child for PCOS-IR. She not only confirmed my feelings of there being an issue, she also apologized for the lack of knowledge from the previous doctors I had seen. Morgan explained that due to my insulin resistance, without the right balance of medication, hormone levels, diet and exercise, there was no way I would be able to take the weight off. She said I could have done cardio for hours at a time while only drinking kale smoothies and still wouldn’t have made a dent on the scale. My body was in starvation mode and was storing basically all of my calories to fat. Wow. Finally a doctor that was willing to look beyond my obesity and help find a cause for all of my symptoms. After she told me the news, you guessed it, I cried. This time I was crying tears of relief because I was going to get some real help and a treatment plan to accomplish my goals. There are so many unknowns right now, nobody can predict the future but Morgan is hopeful that after we regulate my system and find the right regimen for my body, there is a great chance of naturally conceiving a child. She also was very clear, while there is currently no known cure for PCOS, with the help of medication and diet I would have a much better quality of life.

With a diagnosis of PCOS-IR and the added complications from obesity there are some very serious health risks and pregnancy is currently on the back burner for at least a year. It is going to be a long road, Morgan told me that, but I feel prepared for the ups and downs because I want to be healthy, I want to live and I ultimately want to do whatever it takes to have a baby.

Lets get real honest about weight loss and motivation. It is a struggle. You not only have to want it, you have to crave it, chase it, fight for it and above all else, refuse to give up. This is my health and fitness journey and bare with me, I’ll surely need some grace along the way.

You would think being heavy would be motivation enough to lose weight. The constant struggles physically or the difficulty finding cute clothes. The growing insecurities and embarrassment I felt in public. Why couldn’t I make the change? Why did I continue to propel into the deep end of obesity, when would it be enough?

I have started and stopped working out too many times to count. I have tried all of the fad workouts, diets, meal plans, fitness groups, etc. for over ten years. When I start, I feel so motivated to find success but par for the course, I always end up quitting. Sometimes I’ve managed to go several months, others I barely make it a few weeks. Its not that my want or need for a healthier life has left its just a lack of motivation and actual follow through. Its depressing to write this but the truth is, this is me, this is where I am and all I can do now is start over again, God and self motivation willing, for the last time.

During the summer of 2017 I thought I had reignited my motivation. My husband Kellan and I were in town visiting friends and family, after the tragic death of a dear friend, we extended our stay to spend time with our loved ones. Several events on this trip really shook me up about my weight.

You know the look on someones face when they are trying to size you up without being noticed? There was no hiding the horror on the faces of our loved ones, in the five years since we had moved away, Kellan and I had each put on significant weight. Around 100lbs. EACH. That was the first time I couldn’t hide from myself.

I was a master at avoiding pictures or controlling the angle so I could get the best picture of myself and crop any unflattering parts out. I had learned my ‘good side’ and how to hide my double chin. I never let anyone keep a photo of me without my approval. While we were home some candids were taken of a group of us, clearly I wasn’t able to give my typical coaching or ask for approval of the photos before they hit social media. I remember getting the notification on my phone and looking through the pictures in total disbelief. I couldn’t even recognize the woman in these photos. She was HUGE. Her clothes seemed to be too small and it was like she was blissfully unaware. She had clearly let herself go and it was pretty sad to see. Despite all my bargaining, I couldn’t deny that this woman was me. This was my second revelation that I needed to make a change.

While we were home, Kellan and I, along with some family, went to the state fair. It was a beautiful day in the pacific north west and we decided to take full advantage of it. We were going to ride all the rides and play all the games we could. There was only one problem with this…I was literally too big to ride rides, even the most unsuspecting ones, not just too big for a harness on a rollercoaster- actual seated rides with no lap bar or straps. Seriously, how could I not fit in a trolly car? I was struck with the pains of embarrassment and completely mortified, I decided this was the LAST time I let my weight be an issue. I was committed to making a change and being healthy but after the ride debacle I was so upset I made a deal with myself, nothing would cheer me up quite like some famous scones and pierogis, my new weight loss journey would have to start tomorrow.

There it was, my own personal kryptonite…emotional eating. It is a twisted cycle that has plagued me my entire life. Ok, ok, so it has not literally been my entire life, I wasn’t some morbidly obese infant or a tubby toddler-which by the way would have been precious because as I’m sure we can all agree, chubby babies are freaking adorable. Anyways, my weight actually wasn’t an issue for many years. Growing up I was a skinny kid, in fact my mom tells me that at my check ups the doctors would tell her to add fat into my diet, ice cream, butter, sauces, etc. to help me gain weight. I was consistently under weight and they wanted to fatten me up, so to speak. Ironic isn’t it? Fast forward to puberty and I was carrying “baby weight” that was considered prepubescent and would drop after a good growth spurt. This is where I now know PCOS started to affect my life. I struggle with Insulin Resistant PCOS and according to my doctor it has been the obesity monkey on my back since puberty. I would like to clarify-I am not claiming that PCOS is the sole responsible party for my obesity, but it has damn sure hindered my success of losing weight over the years. I would actually say my emotional eating was the second, possibly more guilty, culprit that lead me to where I am now.

In the words of Ron White, ‘I tell you that story to tell you this story.’

Of course last year gave me motivation, I changed my diet and I even spent months on end in the gym working my ass off. I worked so hard and lost a measly 15lbs. I had hit a plateau and couldn’t break this number. Then I caught a bad case of pneumonia and that mixed with the weight loss plateau was enough to lose all motivation. I wasn’t officially diagnosed with PCOS-IR yet so at this time I didn’t know that my body was completely working against me and without the right medication and specified diet I wasn’t going to lose the weight.

This also sent my insecurities into overdrive. I was consumed with the idea that because I was so large, everywhere I went people were staring and judging me.

I had a boss one time tell me that my anxiety is partially self induced because I was so in my own head, he said, “I think you think other people think about you way more than they actually do.” He had a point. Why did I think people had nothing better to do than sit around talking about my weight? I am not that self centered. Im sure it has happened a time or two but the reality is, it wasn’t the main topic of conversation or focus of others lives the way my anxiety and insecurities wanted me to believe it was. Ive tried to remind myself of this little talk when I feel myself growing insecure.

Here I am, more than a year later. I finally hit rock bottom (like broken down crying on the bathroom floor rock bottom) and have decided to claw my way out. I have gained an additional 50lbs since last summer and with this last batch of weight I have gained some interesting consequences. Did you know its hard to complete basic tasks when you’re fat? You get winded from doing household chores like loading and unloading the dishwasher or transferring laundry – don’t even get me started on trying to clean the floors- walking up stairs-FORGETABOUTIT- and even simple things like wiping after going to the bathroom or shaving is a new challenge. I guess it should make sense, pregnant woman face these challenges towards the end of their pregnancy and I have the belly of a mom expecting quintuplets!

That is another cute side effect of my weight gain, I have become Fat Amy, from Pitch Perfect, the self deprecation queen. I used to describe myself in the worst ways because if I say it first, it will hurt less if/when someone else says it. My token phrase was to describe my size as a two story single family home with a three car garage. This is an obvious exaggeration but it was comical none the less.

Cutting the pain with comedy and addressing the elephant in the room on my own self deprecating terms was my way of controlling the dialogue around my weight. I think handling things with humor is beneficial, you cant take yourself or life too seriously, but negative self talk can hinder your own mental health, you can start to convince yourself that what you’re saying is actually true. I was doing this. I had taken my own words too far and at some point it stopped being a defense mechanism and started being my self talk. I would spend so much time in front of the mirror picking myself apart. I would constantly focus on how disgusting I thought I was and it really took a toll on me. I let my words become fact and they started to define my self imagine. As I’m writing this, Sex and the City is on in the background and Carrie Bradshaw just said, “I had become my own worst frenemy”. I think this is one of those serendipitous moments in life, Carrie Bradshaw just helped me describe what was happening. I allowed my self deprecation to be a frenemy to my mental health. In life you have to be your own biggest cheerleader. If you’re not rooting for you, why would anyone else? You have to take care of all aspects of your health and give yourself positive reinforcements and words of affirmation. Self talk is so important, it sets the tone for how we allow others to speak to and about us. This is my come to Jesus moment, I am so ready to make a change and at 28 years old I have finally decided to hang up the frenemy hat and pick up the pom poms.