Diary of a Fat Girl – Day 4
I must admit that I am quite proud of how I ate today. I know McDonald’s is not considered healthy eating, but I didn’t pack on the calories or overeat. Summing it up, I had a McGriddle and hashbrowns for breakfast, followed by chocolate milk since orange juice does not mix well with syrup. I reasoned with myself that I don’t get treated for breakfast at this fast food joint often enough and that I deserved it.
However, I only had crackers and cheese for lunch and a veggie burger on 100% whole wheat bread with cheese and mayonnaise made with olive oil. If I look back at it all, I could have opted for a healthy bowl of cereal for breakfast, added some fruits and vegetables with my crackers and cheese, and skipped out on the mayo for my burger.
All of this, watching what I eat, makes me feel like I want to throw my hands up. What is the point? It all seems useless when we are all going to die anyway?
“What about that baby you desire?”
Ah, yes, a baby. That is all the motivation I need. She needs a healthy body to grow, and she can’t grow in a body full of poison with no egg for sperm to find.
For years, my dieting has failed because of my lack of motivation. I could not devise a good enough excuse to exercise and eat right.
What about your heart? 0Genetic defects and heart disease run in the family. So that ticker can go at any given moment.
Do you want to feel better? All I need is money and sex; I will be on top of the world.
Wouldn’t you like a boyfriend? If he can’t love me for how I am, he doesn’t deserve me.
Don’t you want to live longer? I would just shrug my shoulders and declare that we are killing ourselves with pollution anyway.
Every question anyone had ever thrown at me for motivation had been tossed back with a half-hearted answer. A religious statement about my body as a temple of God would even be used. I would point my finger while shaking my head, stating that I was nobody’s trophy. I would hear what they said, but I wasn’t listening. My excuses were a mile long, and my wit was quick. I would continue to dig into that big bowl of ice cream while watching Friends or Charmed in front of the television. Then I would see another dieting commercial, glance down at my bowl, feel ashamed, then depressed, and run back into the kitchen for another bowl of ice cream.
It wasn’t until earlier this year that I found my motivation. I had read every book I could get my hands on regarding my PCOS and infertility issues. I even worked with my doctor last year on a couple of fertility treatments. He had placed me on the highest dosage of Clomid, and sometimes my egg would grow to the right size, and sometimes it didn’t. He was baffled, and I was stunned.
Then I learned that stress reduces the size of a woman’s egg. Even with the most potent medications available, during the months I was stressed to the max, I could not produce a viable egg to continue the rest of the treatment. I also learned that Clomid thickens your mucus, so the months that I had a viable egg were when Richie’s sperm could not pass the thick impenetrable wall. In one book, a doctor would give his patients Robitussim four days before ovulation to thin out the mucus.
After learning these two suggestions, I quit my job for a less stressful position. Then there was the bill from my doctor’s office. Unfortunately, my insurance did not cover most of the procedures, and we had to use our tax refund to pay the bill.
I’ll say it again. I hate to waste money.
I wondered what I could do to ensure success the next time I wanted to start the treatments again. Of course, the stress-free job was the first step, and keeping Robitussim in the house wasn’t a bad idea either. Then I found my motivation.
I have to lose weight.
The two factors alone will not guarantee me a pregnancy, but losing weight will increase my chances of a pregnancy with help from fertility treatments.
I know. I sound like I’m losing my mind, but I do it full force when I get something stuck in my head. I have decided to lose at least 80 pounds before seeing my doctor again. If I walked in there as a skinnier and healthier version of myself, I figured he would be more open to trying the treatments again. Especially after what I learned about stress and Robitussin!
So here I sit, four months later and only eight pounds lighter. I should be weighing in tomorrow at the gym, and I hope I lost at least one pound. I’m disappointed that I have not lost the 20 pounds that I had anticipated by now. Still, I now know that I need to pay attention to my food intake and work on my exercise program.
It’s for the baby!
Stacy N. Elliott 