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I was a big baby (almost 11 lbs) and a big kid (in my grade-school pictures, I look at least 3 years older than everyone else -- purely because I am taller, sturdier, bigger). At age 9, I went through puberty, and I immediately started gaining weight. By age 12, I weighed 170 lbs. Part of it was diet, sure -- we ordered pizza a little too often, had grits for breakfast a little too much -- but there is no way on God's green earth that it's a purely calories in/calories out equation. I would have been a *little* overweight, not obese, if that was the case.
I went on my first diet at age 10, and stuck to it perfectly, even to the point of weighing and measuring portions. I didn't lose anything.
At 16, I was diagnosed with poly-cystic ovarian syndrome, an endocrine disorder that can cause women to gain weight seemingly by breathing near food. Then I lost my gall bladder (gall bladder problems run in the family -- every woman going back five generations has lost hers) and that made gaining weight even easier.
I am also at high risk for Type 2 diabetes (family history, even if I wasn't overweight) so, until I lost my health insurance a year ago, I was treated by an endocrinologist. He diagnosed me as insulin-resistant. That basically means that it's much tougher for me to lose weight than for the average person.
Did I consider surgery? Hell, yes. One of my dearest friends had it and lost 150 pounds in 7 months. He had to have plastic surgery later to "take in" all the loose skin (he called it his "apron") but he was very, very pleased with the results. He would say, "J., you've never been thin. You have no idea how wonderful it is."
No, I haven't ever been thin. And I don't know.
I know what it's like to be walking across the library parking lot in March wearing a short-sleeved shirt (because I love to feel the breezes of that time of year) and have a group of teenage boys point and laugh. "I guess if you weren't so fucking fat, you'd need a jacket huh, bitch?"
That was just a couple of weeks ago. Incidents like that happen on average of once a week.
And by the way, I'm not monstrous-looking. I don't need a wheelchair like some of my obese friends. I'm just fat. I won't put a picture of myself online, but for those of you who have seen Bertha's picture, I'm about her size. Bertha is a beautiful, strong-looking woman. So am I.
I'm just not what America wants from a woman; ergo, I'm a fat bitch.
Anyway, sorry for ranting -- the surgery.
I was strongly considering it, but then I thought of two things:
1.) There's a 1% mortality rate for the surgery. That's too high for me. 2.) Healthcare access in this country is totally dependent on employment. What if I get the surgery and later am unemployed and need healthcare that I can't afford, due to issues related to the surgery? Happens all the time. 3.) The surgery works best for people who, for whatever reason, have a hard time controlling their eating. My problem is partly that, but much more related to hormones, endocrine issues, and insulin resistance.
On the bright side, :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D
my family doctor recommended the Atkins diet to me. Some overweight women friends with similar problems went on it, and it was working for them. I talked to him about it, and he encouraged me to try it. It's working! I've lost 39 pounds since February 6, 2004. The diet is radical -- I eat almost no carbohydrates (as defined by Atkins, net carbs) and lots of fat and protein. My bloodwork is terrific, my energy is great, I don't feel deprived, and I've lost 3 jeans sizes, too. Something finally works, and I'm very happy.
No surgery for me.
Thanks for the question, Bertha. I appreciate your willingness to discuss this openly -- it helps me to get these things off my chest, too. :hug:
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