Tuesday, September 9th, 2008
Sitting on a tack... I heard this story about two old farmers sitting on a bench whittling wood. One of the men had his hound dog beside him. As the men talked, the hound would suddenly wake up, start howling and carrying on for a spell, and then would eventually calm down and go back to sleep. This happened several times throughout the conversation until the man finally asked, "What'n heck is wrong with your dog?!".
The owner of the dog said casually, "Nuthin', he's just sitting on a tack".
The man asked, "Well dunnat hurt?"
The owner replied, "I'm shore it do."
"Then why dunnit he just get on up?" the man asked.
To that the owner said, "Well, I reckon he's happy nuff an I guess the tack just aint hurtin bad nuff yet."

Surely, I'm not the only person guilty of this sort of behavior...sitting on my ass because I lack the balls to get up off my fucking tack and make a change. In fact, now that I think about it, a LOT of people do this. They sit around bitching and complaining about the things that they either A) bring upon themselves or B) just simply allow to happen or C) allow to persist while simultaneously making bullshit excuses for why they tolerate it. It's stupid.

So, I'm doing it. I'm getting my ass up off this tack and making some VERY needed changes. What is my tack, you ask?

Okay, I'll unload...I may as well, if I can't type it here, where else can I lay out the bare bones of every skeleton in my closet.

First, I'm fat. I know what you're thinking...who isn't? (Except for that one token "skinny bitch"...you know the one...she can eat whatever she wants, never exercises and never gains a pound. Yeah, that bitch. Fuck her, I'm not even thinking about her right now.) Seriously though, I'm really fat. Huge. I'm what people in the medical field call "super-obese" or "ultra-obese". I passed "morbidly obese" 150 lbs. ago. Okay, now you're wondering, how fat is she? Well, I weigh about 375 lbs. This would be fine if I was like 17 feet tall, but I'm not, I'm 5'5". I wear a size 5XL shirt, that's right, count 'em...X X X X XL. My pants...think 38W. I have a 70" waist. I'm bigger around than I am tall.

Now, I'm going to say the words that Cartman has made famous on South Park. I'm big boned. I am. Even when I was slim (in my teens), I was never one of those willowy little size 3 girls who disappear when they turn sideways. I was buff. I ran track and did moderate weight training. I also had a terrific rack. In high school I wore a size 11/12 pants, M size shirt and a D-cup bra. I was smokin' hot. I caused traffic accidents (literally). So, even at my ideal weight, I was still in the 160 lbs. range.

Not long after I got out of high school, I developed PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome). If you don't know what that is, Google or Wiki it. I'll give you a basic run-down on it so you'll at least know what the fuck I'm talking about. It's a condition (they love to call it a syndrome or a disease, but I think "condition" is more accurate) where your female hormones and your male hormones get all sorts of fucked up and jack up your entire system. Women who develop PCOS can enjoy things like:
- irregular, few, or absent menstrual periods (This would be great if it didn't make you infertile and increase your risk for various types of cancer, fibroids and endometriosis.)
- infertility, generally resulting from chronic anovulation (lack of ovulation)
- increased risk of miscarriage
- excessive and increased body hair, typically in a male pattern affecting face, chest and legs
- hair loss, thinning hair on the top of the head aka male pattern baldness (So you lose the hair on your head and it grows back on your face and chest, how fucking wonderful is that? I mean really, who doesn't love a bald bitch with a 5 o'clock shadow and a rug growing on her tits?)
- acne, oily skin, seborrhea (A beard and zits! How sexy is that?)
- obesity (statistics say one in two women with PCOS are obese, so figure 50%) and it's usually right around the middle section/abdominal area
- depression, increased risk of suicide (Well, no shit! What does a fat, bald, infertile bitch with a beard and zits have to look forward to?)
- increases risk of various types of cancer
- problems with high blood sugar aka hyperinsulinemia, insulin resistance or pre-diabetes
- full blown diabetes (once the hyperinsulinemia gets bad enough)
- high blood pressure
- high cholesterol and triglycerides aka dyslipidemia (disorders of lipid metabolism)
- cardiovascular disease
- increased risk of stroke

Doesn't that sound like a fucking blast?!

When I started to develop PCOS, I was 19 years old. I was slim and healthy. I had just started college and had a decent job working for the state. I had a steady BF who was also in college and we lived together in a little apartment downtown. We didn't have a car, so we walked or biked everywhere. Out of nowhere, I started gaining weight. A LOT of weight...and FAST. I gained almost 30 lbs. in a less than a month. I gained weight so fast that I had bright red stretch marks appearing on my stomach. Some of the stretch marks on my stomach actually tore and had this weepy road-rash type of feeling...seriously, my skin literally tore. People looked at my huge belly asked me "when I was due". We didn't have a washer and dry so we did laundry weekly and sometimes the clothes I washed didn't fit me by the next week. Within 3 mos. I was too large to fit into any of the clothes I owned. Luckily, my boyfriend had a husky uncle who gave me some of his old sweatpants and some BIG DOG t-shirts.

School went to Hell. I had to drop out. I felt horrible all the time. I was exhausted and sluggish, disoriented and frequently lost my train of though. I had trouble getting out of bed. I forgot things...simple things...like where I had to go and what I needed to bring with me. I fell asleep on the bus and missed classes. I forgot to buy my books. I fell asleep in class. When a school advisor asked me what was wrong, I didn't know what to say...what I did know is that at this rate, I would fail every class I was in or flunk out based on attendance. The advisor told me that I should drop my classes and if I did it by a certain date I could refund 100% of my tuition and owe nothing to the school. I did and luckily all I ended up owing was about $150 to the student book store after they bought my books back. Thankfully, my grandmother paid that off for me.

My job also went to Hell. Same deal...late to work, falling asleep at my desk, forgetting to do things I was supposed to do. I got fired.

Meanwhile, I gained more weight. By the end of that year I was up to over 200 lbs. I went to see a doctor who told me it was "stress" and assured me that I must be overeating because I'm depressed and stressed out. He told me diet, exercise and get a therapist. Fucker...he never even ran a single blood test. (This happens to a lot of fat people, I think it's even worse for fat women. We go to a doctor with real problems and we're told we're crazy, lazy and eat too much. This is not always the case.)

When I was growing up, my mom was fat. Really, really fat. Not as big as I am now, but close. I remember looking at her and feeling sad for her. I remember all the things she tried to lose the weight and failed every time. I remember seeing her fat and miserable and I told myself that if I ever got that fat, I'd kill myself rather than live that way. So, when I saw the number on the scale getting higher and higher I panicked. I started exercising and I ate close to nothing. ...I still got bigger and bigger. Over the next 6 mos. I gained another 50 lbs.

So, I said fuck it. I'd hurt my knee with all the jogging and running. I tore a tendon in my foot trying to burn the weight off. I hurt my spine. My body just could not take the extra physical activity on top of the 100+ lbs. that had come on so suddenly.

So, I gave up. I resigned myself to being fat. I still watched what I ate, and I was moderately active, but I wasn't going to beat myself and starve myself just to gain only 2 lbs./week rather than 3 lbs./week. It wasn't worth it. I felt like shit most of the time, I was fat and depressed. I stopped caring.

I spent the next 10 years getting fatter. I had a couple of failed marriages and a few long-term relationships. I researched my symptoms on the internet and I was a poster child for Cushing's syndrome and PCOS (they both have VERY similar symptoms and effects on the body, but different causes and treatments). I showed some of the information to my mom who was convinced that I was onto something. Also, the diagnosis of PCOS had become less of a mystery over the last 10 years and I was hopeful that I would be able to find a doctor who could run the appropriate tests and really give me a real answer and some HELP.

About 2 years ago, after ending a 3 year relationship with a very sweet (but very stupid) man, I moved back "home" to where my parents lived. They promised to take me in and offer me a place to live rent-free. Promised to pay for school and help me get the medical help I needed. So, I packed up my shit and drove half way across the country and moved in with good ol' Mom and Dad.

School went well for a while. I aced my tests and got great marks. I also started seeing a holistic doctor for spinal adjustments and acupuncture. He also did kinesiology and gave me some natural supplements that helped me SO much. Unfortunately, the visits were about $100 a pop and the supplements about $30 a bottle (and I needed 3 bottles). My grandmother paid for the visits and the supplements because it was her idea and she wanted to see me feeling better and losing weight. I lost probably 30-50lbs. I don't know for sure because my scale only weighs up to 330 lbs. and then it reads ERR. It had been reading ERR for a long time, but once I started with the holistic doctor I got down to 305...no more ERR!

My parents are notorious for the old "bait and switch" routine and constantly welch on promises. I had hoped that helping me was sincere and that they would follow through...but they didn't. I made an appointment with the Planned Parenthood clinic. The visit would cost $120...and that didn't include any labs or tests. Dad freaked and said no fucking way. So, Mom got a wild hair up her ass and decided to call her gyno (my dad has a good job with benefits and my mom is on his insurance so she pays a $15 co-pay) to see what kind of bargain barrel office visit fee she could get from her trusted friend and gyno...they quoted her $210...again, not including any labs or tests. ...and then she went on to tell her that if I did get the Cushing's or PCOS diagnosed, I could look forward to being on medication that would cost hundreds of dollars and probably surgery that would run in the thousands. Needless to say, Mom and Dad decided that I just wasn't worth it.

The next time it came time to sign up for classes and order text books, Dad said he couldn't afford that either. Surprise, surprise. Not.

So, I quit school, took what was left of my student loan and rented a little piece of shit apartment (which violates my loan terms) about 2 blocks from my parents. I got a job that offers free medical benefits and I am now getting the medical help I needed for MYSELF.

The first thing I did was made an appointment with an endocrinologist. The first thing he did was diagnose me with...you guessed it...PCOS. My blood sugar was running in the 200's sometimes getting up into the 275 range. He ran a shitload of labs and had and ultrasound done to see my ovaries. They're toast. So, now I'm taking 2000mg of metformin XR a day. My sugars hover in the high end of "normal range". I am losing weight and feeling a LOT better.

...back to the tack. This isn;t the first opportunity I've had to go to the doctor. A few years back my (now ex) husband and I had good jobs with medical benefits. I just never made the time. I knew something was wrong with me. I was super-obese even then...but not like I am now. I was depressed. I was miserable. ...but not like I am now. So, now that I am 375 lbs. and have diabetes and a whole shitload of related helath issues...suddenly, that tack got to hurt enough that I started doing something about it.

I saw a doctor and I got the medication I needed. I take my medication and do the things I should have been going all along. I have been researching the vertical sleeve gastrectomy (VSG) aka gastric bypass surgery, and although I have seen it work nothing less than miracles on people, I keep asking myself...why do they have to cut these people up before they decide that they can live with less food, more excercise and drink plenty of water?? Why couldn't they just do that on their own? ...and when I look at the Roux-en-Y gastric bypass surgery...that just scares the shit out of me. These people have their stomachs cut off so that there's nothing left but a golf ball size "pouch" for food. ...and because they've done this to themselves (or more precisely, paid to have someone else do it to them) they have to fight to get enough protein and vitamins to stay alive and avoid health complications that come with severe malnutrition and lack of the proper vitamins to sustain basic bodily functions such as...oh, say...your kidneys and nervous system. Paralysis much? What the fuck are these people thinking? Why not just do it the healthy way? Why have a surgeon cut off your stomach so that 90% of your vitamins and minerals have to be consumed in liquid form because you have no stomach. Is this sane? The real ass-kicker is that once you have this surgery done, you STILL have to do what you could do all by yourself WITHOUT the surgery...the things you should have been doing all along. Less calories, more excercise and drink plenty of water...except now that you've rigged your stomach to be a ticking time-bomb...if you happen to go "off the wagon" you can kill yourself. Fuck that. I don't get it. That's why I prefer the VSG, they reduce the size of your stomach to be just a little smaller than a normal stomach. Keep in mind that almost all overweight people have stomachs that are larger than normal, which leaves them feeling hungry more often and takes more food to feel satisfied. ...but that Roux-en-Y shit...that is fucking crazy...

Anyway, it's late and I need to go to bed.

Thanks for reading...