Monday, August 3, 2009

Dr. Fatty and Getting Back on the Shred

Tomorrow I go back to my new Endocrinologist (we shall call him Dr. Fatty since he specializes in treating the obese, which I am). It is not an appointment I am looking forward to. It also includes a meeting with a nutritionist. A meeting I need to bring my "doesn't love my healthy cooking" husband to.

Dr. Fatty and I exchanged emails shortly before BlogHer because my wonderful insurance denied two of the prescriptions he gave me. The first being for something to block the type of hormone that causes me to look like Teen Wolf. Apparently since it is an off label application of a prostate shrinker they think as a woman I just don't need it. It sort of makes me want to mail photos of me un-medicated after having not waxed for three months to them until they give it to me. I did ask him about laser removal to resolve the issue so he dropped the bomb on me that it would just keep coming back. Awesome. I'll be joining the sideshow as the bearded lady as soon as I hit menopause for sure now.

The second comes with a lot more emotional baggage. It was a prescription for a weight loss drug. While I have been (very slowly) successful in my weight loss since I weaned M back in October (18 months I nursed her, it is World Breastfeeding Week, supporting a nursing mom), it really wouldn't hurt me at all to kick it up and get to a healthy weight a little bit faster.

We didn't talk a lot about my diet but he knows that I know how to eat the right stuff, and I'm sure he knows what I didn't say. I don't always get it right. I can eat a sensible breakfast, a decent lunch, plan for a great dinner, and it all falls apart somewhere right after lunch to around 3 PM. No lunch ever seems big enough to hold off the snackies. Then there is the stress eating. I don't even want to think about what I was eating right before BlogHer what with the sick kid and impending social disaster. All of it relates to my emotional health on some level. So when they denied my prescription for the latest and greatest weight loss drug, I had a nice sigh of relief. Then I asked for an anti-depressant instead.

Which he sort of hedged around.

I'm not looking forward to having to say to someone with years and years of schooling that I'm not too keen about taking a stimulant that has been known to have less than great side effects (the not as new drug that my insurance will cover or I can pay for myself). Instead I'd like to balance my brain chemistry and see if that makes working out more effective (instead of making me so tired I want to cry all day) and helps me eat less.

Think happy courage thoughts for me tomorrow maybe?

I will at least be able to go in to the appointment knowing that I will be back on the Shredded saddle again this month. I enjoyed my time off. The biking was fun, but they did tear apart my whole trail right when I thought I was nearly over my near accident. So I need to get back in to something a little more intense than my gossiping walks with Kristen. Just to keep me in line, I've got a partner for the month.

Oh, and if you're ever wondering what kind of motivation could make me want to subject myself to Jillian Michaels again, seeing how hot Kristen Chase and the rest of the Shredheads looked at BlogHer should keep me going down to a size 12 at least.

2 comments:

rew said...

what is this shred thing? I've heard you mention it before. I do 5 miles most days on the treadmill, but I don't feel like much is happening there.

Heather said...

My metabolism is such that I gain weight very easily, so breastfeeding was wonderful. I could eat pretty much whatever I wanted and wasn't gaining any more weight. I didn't make it as long as you and by nine months we were done. The pounds came back quickly and the following year I slipped on a patch of ice in my driveway and blew out my knee. I've led a pretty sedentary life since then and am just now feeling like I can get back into some sort of exercise routine. Exercise a little more difficult now with the knee problems, but the weight only keeps going up. I have to do something about it.

In other words, I feel your pain.