I hate to admit it, but I feel really, really glum.
All of you wonderful people out there, losing weight week after week, yes YOU, even the ones who don’t follow Weight Watchers “fit formulas” or whatever they call them in your country, the ones who don’t actually stay on plan seven days a week, the ones who drink more than a couple of units of alcohol a week, I am truly happy for you, but it punches me in the face and gut time after time after time. Of course it’s silly to compare, “everyone’s different” they say (the mysterious “they”), “it’s such a personal journey” (there’s that word again). Before all of you lovelies think “here she goes on another whinge fest” please hear me out. Don’t stop reading here. Pay attention. Just in case, one day, you find yourself alone in a situation and really need someone to listen or a cyber shoulder to cry on…
Because I feel really, really alone in this.
And I want to say, to those of you who tell me that “it isn’t abnormal” – please explain to me WHAT is normal about THIRTEEN MONTHS ON A PLATEAU. Please point me in the direction of so many others who have been maintaining and not losing for more than a year, people who need to lose weight, who are not just on the last 5 lbs or so. THIS IS NOT NORMAL.
Let me backtrack a little bit. I definitely want to accept. Accepting is quite a challenge some days. Some days are easier. This morning I finally saw my doctor to discuss what I discussed with my dietitian the last time I saw her. My lovely dietitian, the one who actually expressed concern and understanding, who could totally understand why I would be so frustrated, was going to give a detailed report to my doctor. Turns out she did not do this. She was supposed to do this, so that when I called to make an appointment, quite possibly she would already recommend that I go straight for blood tests to see if there was something medically going on with me. She did not do this. I knew it was about to go all wrong when I sat down and my doctor said “So, how can I help you this morning?” with her fake smile. What? She didn’t even know why I was there??? So I explained about the report and the first thing she said was that she didn’t know what I was talking about. Eventually she found the “report” but there was hardly anything in it. I had to repeat myself yet again and she smiled patronisingly at me and said “It’s normal to have a plateau.” I felt insulted. WHY WAS I THERE?? We talked about diabetes, my thyroid, hormones. She asked me if I had eaten already, because if not I should go for blood tests. *Sigh* I had eaten an apple before I left because no one said anything about blood tests this morning. Now I have to go tomorrow. And then of course they won’t have the results back for three days and I’ll have to go back again to hear what the doctor again has to say. And each time I go there I am reminded that there are no answers.
The thing is. I know what’s going to happen. I’m going to give blood. They are going to find nothing. I don’t have issues with my thyroid. If I did, I would have symptoms. I don’t have diabetes. I don’t have high blood pressure. I don’t have any sicknesses. I am freaking healthy as a horse. I don’t even get a freaking cold. I get the flu approximately every 7 years. They will find nothing and I will forever be back at square zero. No one is going to help me through this. No one knows any answers. I have to accept this. I will never reach anywhere close to my goal weight. I will always be overweight.
And that’s fine. I will continue to eat well. I will continue to stay healthy. I will continue to run. I will have good acceptance days. I will have bad acceptance days. There is hardly anything that has been suggested to me that I haven’t already tried. I even plugged in a typical day’s food to Sparkpeople to see what my daily numbers looked like – I was totally on the mark. I have done less carbs, more protein and vice versa. I eat my fruits and vegetables. I get all my healthy fats in. I have done high days and low days to confuse my body. I am now circuit training as well as running and trying to get some yoga incorporated. I drink approx 6 units of alcohol a week (recommendation is no more than 7 for a woman). I do not take medication. There is something wrong with me.
Or maybe there isn’t.
Please, please, please allow me to cry about this sometimes though. Please just tell me this fucking sucks and I have every right to kick and scream and be envious at time (even though it’s totally a unflattering reaction). Please don’t minimalise or trivialise my feelings about it and underestimate just how lonely and rotten I feel about this sometimes. You have seriously no idea how hard this is. Accepting THIS. It’s one thing to work hard and see the actual fruits of your labor. Me, I get to reap only the benefits I can’t see. No one even asks me how much weight I’ve lost. Because people only know me as the one who doesn’t lose and whinges about it all the time. They don’t SEE anything happening to me. I don’t see it. I only have to accept that on the inside everything is running like a well oiled machine. That I am a success in a different way. That, hey, I’m practising maintenance and didn’t even know it, isn’t that just a hoot?
You don’t have to remind me of the other stuff. I know. I’m a runner. I’m reaching goals in other ways. But I’m sad you guys. I’m really really sad about this. This is not what I wanted. I am trying to change now what I want, which is acceptance and moving on, but it’s hard. Some days are just harder than others.