I was so excited to have lost five pounds in one week that I totally forgot to pay attention to the calendar. I set myself up for a really big fail. I paid ZERO attention to the fact that my period would be this week thereby making weight loss a joke.
The only thing I’m thankful for this week is that I didn’t gain the customary 7 pounds I usually did before joining Weight Watchers.
I am so blue and down because of hormone issues attached to my lovely PCOS and my period to begin with. I almost blew off my meeting today because I knew the weigh-in would bring me even further down. But I mustered and I went.
This is where that bracelet the boys help me with comes in handy again. Before the bracelet I would talk myself out of going and facing the facts. I would begin to feel like a child being punished for something they didn’t do and just say “Screw it!” No meeting means I can pretend to be an ostrich and bury my head in the sand. Now, however, this jangling piece of pain in the butt reminds me that I have more than myself that’s feeling let down. I went to my meeting. I faced the music. I came home in tears.
“Why are you crying, Mom?” Jimmy said when he saw me.
“Because all that weight I lost last week is back. I gained nearly every ounce back.”
“I don’t understand. Why? You were good all week. You followed your points. You even passed on having ice cream this week!”
“I know. That’s why I’m crying. I feel so damn helpless.”
And I do. On top of all the issues PCOS creates for my body it gives me the gift of feeling helpless once a month. It will erase huge portions of my work in one fell swoop, leaving me feeling like a failure. I feel so ashamed standing on that scale and hearing what I’ve gained that one week a month.
It didn’t help that this week at Drug Mart a little old lady approached me. I don’t know her, and frankly, I never want to see her again.
“You know, you should really try to lose that weight,” she said to me.
I didn’t say anything.
“It’s unhealthy,” she continued.
Again, I said nothing.
“Are you hearing me?” she asked.
It may have been rude, but I just stared at her. She walked away, shaking her head and muttering.
It makes me want to shout to the world: Do you think people really choose to weigh this much? Do you think I WANT to look like this?
It makes me want to stuff my face with cake. But I won’t.
So, here I sit, trying hard to rally. I won’t give up on this journey. I knew in the beginning it would be harder than usual for me, but I’ve resolved not to give up, not to let PCOS win. Not to let nosy old ladies have the last word.
It’s just easier to type that than to actually feel it.