#also my daily activities have been restricted so that obviously sucks

[transingurgender]

Top surgery is so fucking insane because I went to sleep and woke up bandaged+couldn't take those bandages off for a week. Then finally some fuckin doctor takes these bandages off and I just have to watch and discover that the body I went to sleep with is drastically different then the one I've been living in for the past week.

It's not that I'm unhappy but it's not a feeling of joy or relief. It was more like a feeling of ??? how the fuck did this happen I didn't know my body could change ???

[fatigued-one]

Way Back When (& My Current Conundrum)

Since I’m new to tumblr, I thought I’d share about myself and why I’m starting this blog for those that are interested. I’m nervous about sharing my story because I haven’t before (partially because I think people will think I’m lying for some reason). I had a longer version, but I figured no one would really care to read that long about my boring life and thoughts. A lot of the details are things that I haven’t discussed with anyone (except perhaps my husband). But, it’s nice to have the option of anonymity (what a weird spelling) that the internet provides. It’s more written for my benefit than anything. I typically don’t like to complain or share my feelings because I feel like I’m just being irritating, rather than actually having valid concerns. So...I feel like I’m really whiny and annoying throughout this post. If you do happen to want to read it though, it’s behind the “keep reading” link.

I’m mainly starting this blog to (hopefully) help me process feelings and cope with issues, similar to a journal. But since this is online, perhaps there will be others to provide me with support and ideas (or even that there’s someone who has been through or is going through something similar to me to be buddies with). I’m also hoping to be able to provide similar support to others. I really enjoy listening when people need a place to vent confidentially, and I’m happy to give advice when asked. I’ll try to be on messenger as much as possible, but with the fatigue issues I have (more detail below), I may not always be able to respond immediately. I’m also planning to keep the ask channel open.

To summarize what I want advice on if you don’t want to read my story: As it has become more evident that my doctors are about out of options to lessen the fatigue, I have become increasingly worried about my weight and wanting to be thin. I feel like there’s not much I can do to improve myself because of the health issues, but I don’t want to be obese again. I feel like there’s not a way to eat right and there’s not a way to increase my activity, so I am just forced to fail and be unhealthy. I feel so trapped in and betrayed by my body. I have mixed emotions about being in the mindset of wanting to start dieting again because I know my husband hates it when I feel this way about my body and gets concerned about my health. But, I’m kind of excited at the idea of being in control of my weight again (which I feel like I shouldn’t be since my husband hates it). I go more into detail about how my mindset has changed in the past few weeks compared with the past 2 years or more at the end of the long story, but it feels like I’ve started to be obsessed with my weight more quickly than the last time.

I don’t want to be obese again, and I really want to take control of my weight like I was when I was losing so much before. I feel like I’m so unhealthy being this fat. But if I let myself start limiting things again, I’m not sure I’ll know when I’m restricting myself enough, and I still don’t want to end up having a feeding tube for my stomach condition. I don’t know how to make my weight acceptable while keeping my husband happy/not concerned, but I don’t want to remain at such an unhealthy weight or as disgustingly fat as I am currently. HELP!

If anyone has any advice or support related to these issues, I’d appreciate it. 

I debated whether to include my current weight and pant size, but I’m pretty ashamed (at least if it’s still the same as it was at the doctor’s office last month) of it after having made so much progress getting down to 120 pounds, even though it is less than my heaviest weight. I’m worried about what people will think about me failing as badly as I have, when I probably should have kept trying to lose weight. 

I also thought about including pictures, but I figured noone would want to see that grossness. If you are interested, please let me know, and I’ll consider posting. I’m so nervous and anxious about sharing how I look(ed), even at my lowest weight, especially considering how so many of the other people in this community look. When I repeatedly see my arms are fatter/bigger/thicker than some people’s legs now (and I really don’t think that’s an exaggeration), it’s hard for me to not be apprehensive about sharing how my body looks/looked. I also feel like if I say I was whatever weight in a photo that I’ll get comments about me lying because I always feel like I look way heavier than other people do at the same weight (though I have had people in real life tell me they think I’m lying about my weight because I look significantly lighter than what I say I weigh...I don’t believe them though).

So, I’ve basically been self-conscious about my weight for as long as I can remember. For the most part, I thought my views about my weight were normal for someone my age. My mom would tell me (and still does sometimes) to suck in my gut and stand up straighter (I assume to hide that I was as fat as I was) especially when I was taking a picture. Starting in middle school, if not earlier, she started to tell me to cut back on snacks and desserts, eventually not letting me have seconds on anything even if I was still hungry. I just figured it was normal for a parent to help keep their child from being too unhealthy when they were already that fat. I had a condescending twin brother, who always picked on me, especially for being so heavy. Mom didn’t ever seem to care about his weight unless he lost some, and more focused on me (the fatter twin) and making sure I was aware that she knew I was overweight. I was picked on for a lot of different things in school, since I was geeky and weird on top of how heavy I was. There were even kids that thought I was/asked me if I was pregnant because of my huge belly making it look that way. I wasn’t too bothered by my weight until I was too big to buy a prom dress in the junior section. Mom was way more incessant about me not gaining weight before prom than usual, as she wanted to make sure I remembered being fatter would make my dress not fit. It fit ok at the prom, but my back fat puffed out over the top of it (so gross). This made me start to be so much more worried about my weight and size.

Although I was disappointed with my size, I just accepted it as my destiny to be fat at the time rather than feeling like I could do something to change it, likely cause my parents determined what and when I ate for the majority of my meals at that time. I didn’t have enough self control to stop myself from eating anything (even things I knew were terrible for me), and I always ate the entirety of whatever started eating. I felt hungry all the time, and I didn’t like the feeling of my stomach being empty at that time. I prayed that I would be able to finally motivate myself to lose weight so I could be healthy.

I started trying to eat healthier in college, after my weight ballooned to 190 pounds. I was a tight US size 16, and so unhappy with my appearance. For a while, my weight stayed fairly stable at 190, because I guess I wasn’t eating as healthy as I thought. I started to become obsessed with the size of my potions. I would meticulously compare what I ate with other people to make sure that my food was “healthier” and I wasn’t eating more than them. After one of my best friends died at the end of junior year (I think I probably should have been in a size 12 or 14, but thought my size 16′s still fit because my body looked exactly the same to me), I lost the motivation to eat because of how much grief I had. I was down to a size 8 at by start of senior year. I didn’t think my body looked much different than it had at size 16, but I did occasionally get asked if I’d lost weight for some reason I didn’t understand. At my annual checkup, my doctor thought it was great I was losing weight and recommended I continue with what I was doing.

After college, I moved back in with my parents’ house for a while. At first, I gave up some of the control over what I was eating, but I started freaking out as I felt my pants getting tighter and tighter. I became obsessed with controlling what I was eating and with how fat I was. I started to skip meals to account for the additional calories I obviously didn’t need to be eating at dinner. I started completely eliminating “unhealthy” foods from my diet. My mom started to suggest that I should stop eating snacks and desserts again, and started to ask questions about if I had gained weight or if I was eating more. I pinched at my fat in the mirror to remind myself of how gross it was. I started combing the internet to find tips on how to lose weight and compared myself with celebrities to remind myself of what my body could look like if I managed to lose some weight.

Once I got a full time job, I moved out on my own again and became more particular about what I ate and obsessed with losing weight. I finally had access to a scale, and started weighing myself every day. I was so anxious that I’d gain even a tenth of a pound. I started to obsessively count calories, initially allowing myself 1200 per day (which I feel like is a ton). The more under my limit I was, the happier I was with how I ate. I was anxious every time I thought I’d gone over my calorie limit. I kept progressively lowering the number of daily calories I could eat, thinking that I was being too generous with my limit. I started competing with myself to eat less calories than the day before, thinking I’d failed if I ate more (after all, I was on a diet because I was hideously fat, so the goal was to eat less calories so I could lose weight). Eventually, I was eating about 600 calories a day and still berating myself for “overeating” by so much. Mostly I was just eating fruits and vegetables, because I had eliminated so many “bad” foods from my diet. I spend more time poking and pinching at my fat in the mirror, and I would even grab at my fat while lying in bed or alone watching TV.

I never actually set a goal weight for myself when I was initially losing weight. My goal was just to not be fat any more. I kept telling myself that I’d look better if I lost 20 pounds. I’m not sure where the 20 pounds came from, but that was always the amount I’d say I wanted to lose. My boyfriend became increasingly concerned that I wanted to lose “so much” weight, but I saw no reason for him to be worried. I was obviously still overweight, and I thought I was just eating healthier. He remained very supportive of how amazing he thought I was, but in my head, I know that he wouldn’t want to see me wearing less clothes or to touch me because I was so fat and disgusting. I used that as motivation to keep working towards being thin, but didn’t want to tell him.

I went for a routine check at the doctor and was put on medication for hypothyroid, which made me ravenous. I started to eat huge meals and snacks (which were probably no larger than what most people consider normal but I felt like I was overeating massively) because I couldn’t control myself with the new hunger. I was terrified I was going to become morbidly obese because I had lost the ability to stick to a simple diet plan. Then, I started to have severe stomach pain and nausea every time I ate. I ate less and less food, but it continued. I eventually felt guilty for trying to eat or drink anything, because I was having the pain even from one bite of a fruit or vegetable or a single sip of water. Obviously my body was punishing me for being so fat and overeating all the time. By the time I was diagnosed and treatment was figured out, I had gotten to 120 pounds and a US size 2 (almost a 0). It was a condition that makes my stomach digest foods more slowly than is typical. The condition medically requires me to eat a low fat and low fiber diet, eliminating a lot of fruits and veggies, as well as many other foods that I had already stopped eating, from the foods I am allowed to eat from a medical perspective. For the most part, I can digest liquids without issues, but it typically limits the amount of food that someone is able to ingest at one time (which made me super excited to think that my body basically would act as a calorie counter for me). I still thought I was not much smaller, and was compelled to keep losing weight. I was fearful of trying to eat because I knew my body would punish me for it, obviously it didn’t need me to eat much (or even every day) or it wouldn’t hurt when I tried to. I was terrified of eating more than about 5 bites, sometimes as few as 2, because I was certain I would gain weight from being such a pig. 

Eventually, my boyfriend convinced (or tricked...I’m not sure) me into letting him control what I ate and how big I was so that I would avoid needing a feeding tube. He wouldn’t let me see the scale even, and I was up to 140 pounds and a size 6 by the finally did. I couldn’t stand it because of how huge I was or how quickly I pudged out, but he continued to force me to eat (what I thought) were massive size meals and wouldn’t allow my to try to lose more. He kept affirming me and making me complement myself until I was mostly ok with not trying to lose weight, even though I still needed to lose some weight.

A couple years later, I started having pain everywhere in my body for what seemed to be no particular reason. It felt like I had done a heavy workout the day before in every area of my body, even though I hadn’t been doing anything particularly strenuous the day before. I struggled to keep my thoughts regarding my weight out of my head still, but I started telling myself that it was my body’s way of punishing me and trying to make me feel guilty for being fat or not trying to take care of it well enough for something. I was able to convince myself that my husband (previously boyfriend) was right about this not making sense. After months of negative test results, this was finally diagnosed as Fibromyalgia.

Once the pain management was figured out, I began to have issues with severe fatigue that would not let up. The fatigue has continually gotten worse, though now seems to be either progressing very slowly or is stable. This has now been diagnosed as chronic fatigue syndrome, which causes me difficulty doing pretty much everything due to lack of energy. I spend the vast majority of my time on a couch with a recliner built in or lying down, mostly watching TV and intermittently using a laptop because I get so exhausted trying to do more that I crash and have sleep the rest of the day.  My doctors have unsuccessfully tried so many different treatments, and are basically out of options. So, I’m not expecting the fatigue to lessen anytime soon. Between worrying about my body being in constant pain and being so inactive, I have gained quite a bit of weight. Exercising, even things like yoga that are low key, is essentially out of the question to do regularly since doing so for 5-10 minutes basically wipes me out for the rest of the day. Most days, I’m not able to prepare food more than things like heating up leftovers or pouring milk on cereal, so making more healthy things, like smoothies, isn’t possible either a lot of the time. I feel like I’m so much fatter than I was when I was this weight before because of being inactive. I’ve lost so much of my muscle, so I feel like just a lazy blob. It’s to the point where trying to stand for more than a couple minutes starts to cause my body to shake, as if is doing some great feat of strength, or to burn like I’ve just done some intense workout. (I try not to be convinced of this being from how massive my weight is, but it’s hard not to think that.) I haven’t pulled out pictures from the last time I was this heavy, but I’m sure I looked less fat since I was actually at least somewhat active (and would have had more muscle). It’s so frustrating to have so little control of how my body works.

Current Thoughts, Feelings, and Concerns

I know that what I was doing in regards to my eating before, probably wasn’t what most people would consider “normal”, but I’m not really sure it qualifies as an eating disorder either, as I never felt like I limited my food enough or lost too much weight for it to be considered as such. If I read a story someone else wrote where they basically the same things I did, I might feel differently. But as is, I never felt like my eating was that strange, other than agreeing that I...might...have had a warped view of my eating right after my stomach issues were diagnosed. I was never underweight so I don’t really feel like I was unhealthy regarding my views on food when I was losing weight.

My obsession with my weight and desire to be thin has been returning with a vengeance lately. I won’t go into all the boring details about why I think so though, but I’ll share a bit about what I’m going through now. My weight has been fairly stable (within a couple pounds) over the past year or so, I have been feeling more and more like I’m getting fatter with each meal, even though I haven’t changed how I’ve been eating. I hate having a full stomach again, whereas that hasn’t bothered me for several months unless my stomach condition started to flare up. It feels almost like my body is revolting against me trying to put food in, as it has started to send me full stomach signals before I start eating a lot of the time. I’m feeling so guilty if I finish eating anything, even for foods like a cup of yogurt. I feel like my weight is so unhealthy. 

I hate that I’ve gotten so huge and overweight again, but I feel like there’s not much I can do to improve myself because of my health issues. I feel so helpless and trapped in my body. While typing this up, I kept thinking that the things I was doing to lose weight before should sound ridiculous, but I also was wishing that I was still doing them or that I had started them again.

Most of what I eat is so junky, because it takes so much less energy to prepare and there are so many healthy things I can’t eat because of my stomach issues. I know I need to prevent myself from eating certain types of foods again, but I feel like I shouldn’t want to. A couple days ago I realized that I’m actually looking at the calories for pretty much every food I eat from a package. I haven’t started tracking them or trying to limit them, but I feel like that might not be too far away. I’m starting to push meals later, waiting for my hunger to pass. I’m terrified that the inactivity is going to make my weight balloon again.

I had been checking my body in the mirror about once or twice a week for the past year or two as just an awareness check of how I look, but now I’m noticing that it’s been once or twice a day that I can’t resist the urge to critique how fat I am and analyze how I could look better. I’ve become more particular about what I can wear again when I actually manage to leave the house, since it’s become so much more evident that my fat is bulging through my clothes. I’ve started secretly spending as much time as I can (hours a day) at so many images online and on TV of people who are thin (probably thinner than my husband would ever want me to be), and combing each one to see how my huge body compares.  

My husband is aware of my eating issues, so he tends to look out for signs that I am skipping meals, keeping track of my weight, avoiding foods, checking calories, and so forth. So it’s not really an option to fast. I haven’t started weighing or measuring myself again yet, but I’m struggling to not start keeping track of my size. That is one thing my husband watches to see if I’m doing. He tries to keep me from using the scale because he knows how knowing my weight tends to make me feel fatter than I already do and how often I weighed myself when I was making myself lose weight. He still doesn’t think I need to lose weight, but I’m pretty sure I’m medically overweight by a few pounds at this point. I think he might suspect something is up with my eating again because he knows me so well. 

Thank you so much for reading my story. If you’ve got any advice, suggestions, resources, encouragement, etc., please share. I’d appreciate some support from others as I try to cope with my health issues vs. my weight.

[nordnorthnorte]

Dairy & egg free week 1

Lessons learned and thoughts going forward.

It’s been a week.

What have I learned so far? Did I lose weight on a dairy and egg free diet?  What are my thoughts?

Mostly for my own memory, but if you’re curious keep reading! P.S. rather long...

Now, just to clarify: I’m not eating dairy and egg free to lose weight. I’m genuinely allergic, and it wasn’t exactly voluntary that I cut out these two major staples of my diet. 

All in all, it’s been okay. I can’t say that I’ve had any major issues adapting to this diet so far - expect mentally, because I miss dairy and eggs dearly! - but then again I haven’t done much outside my normal life (I’m worried about going on holiday this summer though...). I did go out to eat once last week (this is extremely rare for me) and I had my best friends birthday party. I’ll get back to the social part of this diet a bit later.

In terms of eating at home? No problem. Obviously it pains me to see my boyfriend make mac & cheese, have 3 different types of cheese on his pizza, have a balsamic and mozzarella burger, and well cheese in general - I sense a theme here... I always bring my own lunch to work, with the rare exceptions where I either get a salad if we’re out of bread or the occasional snack in the afternoon, so this isn’t an issue either. Dinner-wise, we’ve made little alterations such as cooking with oil instead of butter, make individual portions with and without dairy or eggs, and have switched to more tomato-based than dairy-based sauces.

Being social? A little more challenging. I’m sure it’s just habit, but it’s not easy (or fun) being the one who turns down cake and treats at a birthday party. Or being the one who orders the vegan grilled cheese with soy “mozzarella” when your out with a group of friends. Not just because you feel like you’re bumming everyone else out or wanting to be the “healthy one”, but because you want some yourself! With time, I’m sure I’ll find a way to get around this, and I really hope that I’ll at least be able to tolerate eggs enough to eat them on a regular basis. 

Even though I can’t help but feel deprived somehow, I actually think it helps that I’m doing this for my health and not for weight loss or because it’s “trendy”. I can’t cheat on this diet, because I know it’ll make me physically ill. This makes it easier to turn down foods that aren’t allergy friendly, and makes the whole thing easier overall. I don’t have to deal with the crazy cravings I used to have when dieting and certain foods were “not allowed”. I don’t have to deal with guilt if I give into temptation and eat a “forbidden” food, because I’m not restricting myself for the sake of weight loss. It’s only been a week, but this shift in my mentality is refreshing and relaxing somehow. I don’t feel pressured anymore.

So what have I learned? Biggest lesson: Dairy is everywhere. Eggs and peanuts not so much. But moreover, I’ve had to take a serious look at my diet and what I put into my body. For me, this is a good thing. I’m incorporating more vegetables into my diet to make up for the lack of protein now that dairy and eggs are off limits. I’m trying out new ways of cooking. I’m eating foods that I normally wouldn’t eat by choice - not because I didn’t like them, but because dairy and eggs were my go-to. 

Fairly early on I decided that even though I was changing my diet, I would try and make smaller changes and go from there. Now, I’m eating things similar to what I’d normally eat (like bread), but I’ve made changes to what I have with it, and instead of milk I just use water when baking. In Norway we love our open sandwiches, so now instead of cheese I’ll top it with chicken or fish. I drink water instead of milk. I use non-dairy butter or hummus instead of butter. See? Small changes that don’t leave me feeling like I’ve become someone else.

Did I lose any weight this first week? Nope. But I still feel leaner. This is probably because I’m not bloated to the point of looking 6 months pregnant anymore, so WIN. One surprising thing happened though - I actually got scared that I would suddenly lose a bunch of weight very quickly, because I’m actually finding it difficult to meet my daily recommended calorie intake (I eat around 1850). I’m not a huge fan of pasta and rice, so a lot of what I eat is lean protein and vegetables. I’m still trying to figure out how to up my fat intake (it’s harder than you’d think!). I also feel like I’m not performing as well in the gym - I feel weaker, and fatigue sets in much sooner than before. I think this is because my main sources of protein and fat have disappeared, and thus my extra energy, and I’m hoping that I’ll regain some of my strenght again soon. I’ve put a lot of effort into the gym so far this year, and I don’t want to lose any muscle (gotta be ready for when the fat melts and my abs show y’know...).

What are my thoughts going forward? Simply put: It’s really not that bad. Yes, it definitely sucks that I can’t eat anything and everything I want, but it has changed how I think about food. For years and years my relationship with food has been awful. I’ve felt like “everything” has made me sick, gain weight, lose weight and gaining it again. My self-esteem has suffered greatly. My thoughts about my body are changing, and I feel more confident all of a sudden - I just hope this feeling lasts! 

Now that I know the cause of my illness, I can focus on healing my body, treating it nicely, being active, and think positive thoughts going forward in this “experiment”. This is a journey to health, not weight loss, and that alone has lifted a great deal of weight off my shoulders!