The start of my quest to lose weight and get fit. Again.

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I am back at my heaviest. Things that fit are those outfits that scream “nothing else in my wardrobe fits”. My jeans taunt me. One pair I can still do up, just. The other I can do up but they keep falling down because my gut keeps pushing them southward. I can feel my gunt sitting on the top of my thighs. It’s repulsive.

There is a mixed cause of this. For started my exercise – from incredible in the last six months of last year all while my back was crushing itself – is now non-existent. I was walking three mornings a week until about a month ago when my mental health went southwards and I am back on meds that make me sleep like I am in coma. Getting up to go walking is just not going to happen. It’s not even that I turn the alarm off, I don’t even hear it – when it’s on full volume AND on the bed beside my pillow.

That medication is also the cause of shooting my metabolism into oblivion. My shrink knows this, we tried to get me off it and we tried another drug which does the same thing without the metabolic side-effects. Off it my anxiety was crippling. On the alternative I was deeply despairing and suicidal. So back on it I am. The price of sanity.

We do have a goal that it will *just* be a three month strategy because it’s not an ideal long term solution for someone who is unipolar. But every time I’ve been off it in the last 12 months the anxiety has been terrifying. I’m not going to get ahead of myself, we’ll see how I’m travelling at the beginning of November.

Then there’s my thyroid. My lazy-arsed good-for-nothing thyroid. Three times bigger than it’s meant to be – although I’ve been on thyroxine for 18 months so I’m hoping it’s shrunk a bit at least. My neck is still fat so who knows. The Hashimoto’s disease means I’m prone to weight-gain and will struggle to lose weight.

Oh good.

But then there is the cherry on top. I take all these factors into account and then think “fuck it” and eat a block of chocolate or a large packet of chips or have that second – and even third – helping at dinner.

So yesterday I drew a line in the sand. At least, I think I did. I couldn’t see over my belly to really see if it was a line. It could have been more of an arc, we’ll never know. Today was Day 2 and it wasn’t too bad. Back to thinking about what I was going to eat rather than shovelling in anything that stood still long enough. And no more crap.



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