I'm not making excuses....except that I'm making excuses.
I'm trying to lose this weight while at the same time battling against infertility. Infertility is the most emotionally draining experience of my life thus far and I, my friends, am an emotional eater. Feeling tapped out? Eat. Feeling desperate? Eat. Feeling like crying? Eat. That would be me. I'm not sure where it came from (not entirely true--I've been exploring it for years in therapy. I am a hot mess, y'all), but when I need comfort, food is my go-to soother.
Let's add to the emotional rollercoaster the fact that the fertility drugs I'm on tend to add, oh, A GAZILLION pounds of water weight onto my already busting-out-of-the-seams frame. In early November, I weighed 164lb. By the end of my first cycle on Follistim and progesterone, I weighed 175lbs. Eleven pounds in one month. Granted, Thanksgiving was wedged in there somewhere, but I am fairly certain I would have had to put my whole family out on the street and eaten the entire feast myself to gain eleven pounds from one meal.
We took December off because of some complications from the first cycle, and I spent that month fighting the holiday stress eating and trying to get rid of as much of that wonky weight gain as I could. I got rid of a few pounds of it, but now? It's been six days, and I'm back up three pounds. So right where I was when the last cycle ended.
This makes for a swirly mix of self-loathing and anxiety that makes me itch to head to the fridge. Or the bakery. Or Ben & Jerry's. My head spins with thoughts of "if I never get pregnant, I am getting fatter each month for nothing. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this," and then ricochets off the idea that, "zOMG, if I DO get pregnant, I am going to be starting out at just this side of obese. I will *be* obese by the time I deliver. I will have to lose weight from a place of obesity. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this."
It's a whole giant bucket of awesome, folks.
So, yeah, that's my excuse for the week. My Tuesday weigh-in was a flop this week. But that's okay. Back in the saddle (my "horse" being the treadmill) tomorrow morning at the gym. I can feel the strength in my muscles growing, even if I also see my waistline expanding. Somewhere under there I am strong and fabulous, I know it.