Thursday, November 20, 2008

Fat like me

I got the call yesterday fat ladies await with salami-bated breath.

“We got the results of your blood work. You have hypothyroidism.”

Son of a bitch.

Since that word began to buzz, plumpies have played the thyroid card, the slow metabolism. Even Oprah claimed it. I am curious if kick starting the juices stalled in a gland in my neck will show on the scale and naked in the mirror. Bonus if treatment helps fight new fatigue and joint pain - thought I’d simply inherited crunchy knees from my Dad’s side. I’m miffed the condition has little to do with behavior I could change; it’s the first of the internal organs to wear out (my doc, however, theorizes a lingering and nasty viral infection last year may have played a part). It also means taking a tiny and sugary pill every day for the rest of my life.

Fuck.

I’m not a fan of medicating (with the exception of Pinot Noir and Grey Goose). A couple of Bayer is all I need on the roughest of days. A year ago I bid goodbye to the pill after 20 years of start-on-Thursday-over-by-Sunday regularity. I just don’t believe in pharmaceutically changing body chemistry long-term anymore.

Dammitdammitdammit.

On the plus side, I passed the “just checking” Chlamydia test with flying colors.

The diagnosis came the same week I took in a Sunday matinee of “Fat Pig”. This off-Broadway-to-Boulder stage play chronicles a short-lived and unlikely romance between an attractive guy with an upscale career and an amply endowed, Rubenesque…screw it, fat chick.

The female lead Helen, the fat pig in “Fat Pig”, is barely zaftig. She wears heels for Christ sake and would shop the low-end sizes at Lane Bryant. The more compelling visual would have been a can’t-hide-it-I-can’t-deny-it obese actress in the role. Conversation surrounding Helen always focused on size first, the apology for it, the acceptance of it. She had a jolly laugh and stuffed down hot dogs during an emotional encounter.

The male lead Tom, not that hot or hard. Smoldering in head shots, he acted it goofy and immature; in a shirtless beach scene, there’s definite moob. Supporting players were caricatures of the meanest kids on the playground. Would you seriously, even in the most private or judging moment, tell your best buddy he’s dating a “sow”? Brave Helen is finally torn down by Tom’s insecurities, exposing surprise vulnerability and admitting her shame, telling him she’ll change, really change, for him. If the cost of his love is surgery or stapling, she’s all in.

Bullshit.

Having spent my formative dating years somewhere on the fat scale, I wasn’t worthy of the boys I wanted. They never looked. I never dated. When hormones bud and you’re not the girl the boys want to spend seven minutes in heaven with, sexuality ceases to exist. As an adult finally comfortable in my skin and vagina, in some sort of odd reverse discrimination, I like fit guys, men aware of appearance. It’s not looks, but caring enough about one's self to take care of oneself. To not be fat, one must eat less and exercise more. To be healthy, one must eat properly and exercise. Under the covers on a snowy morning is a better spot than out running a still slippery sidewalk, frosty breath escaping. A cocktail and “Friends” rerun often more appealing than burning quads on a spinning bike. I’d prefer salt and vinegar kettle chips over a handful of raw almonds every time. It’s choices, being better. Being all.

And now I have an honest to goodness doctor’s note.

Crap.

9 comments:

Miz UV said...

Sorry to hear that, but hopefully you'll see good results from taking a pill. I don't like the idea of a forever med either, but hey, sometimes you gotta. I was all different weights in HS, and pretty much invisible throughout, so size isn't the whole issue. Chubby girls with good, outgoing personalities had boyfriends then, and they do now. I know what you mean about fit men being a turn-on because they care about their bods, but at a certain point it's a turn-off -- like when they're really in love with the mirror, ya know?

Don said...

But a doctor's note for what. You made yourself beautiful and you like being beautiful and you can keep yourself beautiful. Exercise, diet, doing the right things for you as you have been. Paula's right, shoulders-back confidence trumps those shivering little pretty-girls every time. Or often enough. Anyway, I'm sorry to hear there's another bother to deal with.

Cody Bones said...

I'm sorry Jodie, but I guess I try to be optimistic, but just remember that great line from young Frankenstein "Could be worse, could be raining"

JodieKash said...

I was fat because I lived like a fat person; I got smart and I went to work and I got cute and out of the blue a vial of blood says it’s a gland. I want credit, dammit. And yes, Cod, on the bright side, once these motherfucking meds take hold, I may run a real metabolism and get from cute to downright sexy.

Amusing that I want to be impervious to disease. I want none of it. No excuses. And I’m getting a second opinion.

Miz UV said...

Have to LOL @ Cody's comment! God, I love that movie.

Joe the Troll said...

"I want credit, dammit."

You do get credit. "Hypo" means that all the work and dieting you've done has been an uphill climb, but you've gotten somewhere with it anyway. It's like doing well in a race despite lead boots.

I feel the same way about medicating, especially now that prescription drugs are killing more people than illegal ones. There is a difference, however, with correcting something physically wrong and doing what so many others do..... get on a regimen of dangerous drugs because they don't think they're happy enough, or something. Anyway, with thyroid stuff it's more dangerous to ignore it.

Crys said...

i have hypothyroidism and have for years. it can come on due to a variety of things -- mine came on after a particularly traumatic event. it is very common.

i am not fat. i exercise, i eat well. i can fluctuate in pounds, sometimes up 15 with no problems, but for the most part it's all very manageable. taking synthroid won't take off the weight, but it WILL give you energy. depending on what your TSH was, this could be a life changing event for you. it was for me. previous to taking medication i literally lived in my bed. after a week on thyroid meds it was like the Dawn of the Dead.

arise Lazarus!

you'll be okay. there are great resources out there, too, particularly Mary Shomon's stuff.

Crys said...

...wait, let me clarify...depending on the severity of your condition synthroid MAY help you to lose weight. but if you don't have a weight issue now and you are starting the meds now -- you're not likely to gain.

Jodie Kash said...

I was blog pouty because I'd lost 30 this year (like my Troll said, running a race in lead boots), working like a bastard at the gym, eating right, less vodka, and when I got the diagnosis every fat lady wants (think: Oprah) I was actually pissed. But hells yeah, five days into meds and I was singing and dancing. Didn’t realize how crappy I was feeling.

Oh, and the TSH went from 3 to 5 since my last lady poke, hence the meds.

I always choose the hard way (dirty).

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