Diary of a Fat Girl – Day 4
I must admit that I am quite proud of the way 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 hashbrown 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, the only other thing I had were crackers and cheese for lunch and a veggie burger on 100% whole wheat bread with cheese and mayonnaise made with olive oil. I suppose 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 leaves me feeling like I want to just throw my hands up in the air. 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 that is just full of poison where there is no egg for sperm to find.
For years, my dieting has failed because of my lack of motivation. I could not come up with a good enough excuse for myself to exercise and eat right.
What about your heart? Genetic defects and heart disease run in the family. That ticker can go at any given moment.
Do you want to feel better? All I need is money and sex and I will be on top of the world.
Wouldn’t you like a boyfriend? If he can’t love me for the way I am than 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. They would even use a religious statement about my body being a temple of God, and I would point my finger while shaking my head stating that I was no body’s trophy. I would hear what they were saying but I wasn’t really 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 sitting in front the television watching Friends or Charmed. 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 when 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 with 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 strongest of medications available, 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 the times that Richie’s sperm could not make its way past the thick impenetrable wall. In one book a doctor would give his patients Robitussim four days prior to ovulation to thin out the mucus.
After learning these two suggestions, I decided to quit my job for a less stressful position. Then there was the bill from my doctor’s office. Most of the procedures were not covered by my insurance and we had to use our tax refund to pay the bill.
I’ll say it again, I hate to waste money.
My mind began to tick away as to what I could do to assure success the next time I wanted to start the treatments, again. The stress free job was the first step and keeping Robitussim in the house wasn’t a bad idea as well. 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 for a pregnancy with help from the fertility treatments.
I know. I sound like I’m losing my mind, but when I got something stuck in my head I go for it full force. I have decided to lose at least 80 pounds before seeing my doctor, again. I figured that if I walk in there as a skinnier and healthier me he would be more open to trying the treatments one more time. Especially, after what I learned about stress and robitussim!
So here I sit, four months later and only eight pounds lighter. I should be weighing in tomorrow at the gym and I am hoping that I lost at least one pound. I’m disappointed that I have not lost the 20 pounds that I had anticipated by now, but I now know that I really need to pay attention to my food intake and work on my exercise program.
It’s for the baby!