I know only a handful of you care about this PCOS crap (though I’m grateful to the ones of you that do!), but I thought I’d update you anyway. I went back to the doctor today and she’s upping the dose of the metformin and we’re going to see how that goes. She’s concerned about the episode I had a couple of weeks ago and if it happens again, she might pull me off the Pill.
I really, really don’t want that to happen, as I’m enjoying the novelty of not suffering through eternal, heavy bleeding.
And they took blood to check my liver and kidney functions and to see if I’m anemic still or if that’s straightened itself out.
I’m waffling about how I feel about the whole emphasis on whether I’m losing weight. I mean, I feel great. I feel really great and I’m just enjoying moving around in my body a whole lot. To me, that’s so nice.
And, you know, if we’re saying “this is what I eat; this is how I move; this is what I weigh and this is how my body works (not processing the insulin and stuff) and if we get the medical stuff straightened out, we should see some weight loss” then that’s one thing–using the maintainance of weight or the loss of weight as an indicator of whether the medicine is working properly–that I think I can live with.
But I’ve got to tell you, I hear that voice, too, you know. The one that says “Oh, well, you only accepted that you were fat because you thought that’s just how it was, but really, you could lose a bunch of weight and you could finally be beautiful and you could finally be worth being loved. Oh, B., health-shmealth! Finally, an acceptable body is coming your way!”
And I know better, you know. I know that voice and I know what living with it getting to be the boss does to a girl.
Well, you know.
Anyway, so I went and we’re proceding as planned.