It's Not Easy

Disclaimer : This post is very revealing. It is written for an emotionally and mentally mature audience. It is written to help me understand, accept, and deal with issues that I hate talking about, because writing is easier. It is meant to help people dealing with issues of their own.

Over the past couple of months, I've put on a significant amount of weight.

Usually, weight gain results from one of two things (or a combination of both) - either you're eating too much, or not enough, or not the right kinds of foods, OR you're not getting enough exercise or the right kind of exercise.

That's where it got confusing.

My husband and I eat healthy, whole foods. We like our fresh fruits and vegetables, whole grains, lean meats and fish. We stay away from processed foods as much as possible. Both of us love cooking, and can spend hours in the kitchen making things "from scratch", so we are very aware of what we eat. We bake often, but everything we eat is portion-controlled. In addition, I do an hour of very tiring yoga everyday, religiously practise (Bharatanatyam - Indian classical) dance, and walk around the neighbourhood whenever I can (primarily to stalk the cats that live in this area, but you get the idea).

So I didn't know what I was doing wrong. I'm a tiny person - just under 5 feet - and naturally curvy, so even the smallest bit of weight gain shows on my frame.

I was bullied and teased in school for being "overweight" (I never really was, but kids are nasty). For as long as I can remember, my weight has always been in the normal range, but it sometimes strayed into the "overweight" range. It bothered me a little, especially when "well meaning" relatives made snide comments, compared me to my thinner, prettier sisters, or "offered help" - but overall, I was healthy, I was happy, and I didn't let it get to me.

A few months ago, I went to see my doctor, and explained, somewhat tearfully, what's been happening. The sudden weight gain, the frighteningly irregular menstrual cycles, the constant fatigue and tiredness, the depression - everything. She asked me detailed questions, took the time to clarify and understand things, and then recommended an ultrasound scan and a blood test. The ultrasound scan was to check for PCOS, or Polycycstic Ovary Syndrome, which causes a whole host of problems (including weight gain and infertility), and the blood test was to test my blood sugar levels and hormone levels.

The good news was that I had no PCOS, the bad news was that one of my fallopian tubes is very narrow. The blood test showed that my blood sugar and iron levels were low, and there were no issues with any of my hormones. I was told to take iron supplements.

A few weeks ago, I went in for another blood test, because in spite of everything I tried, I was still putting on weight, and am currently at the heaviest I have ever been in my life.

It bothered me. There were days when I was so depressed, I didn't want to get out of bed or talk to anyone. I didn't want to be in any pictures, and I never wanted to "talk about it". For the first time, I knew what it was like. To look in the mirror and hate what you see, to feel a desperate, panicky sense of helplessness, to feel like where ever you go, people are staring at you and judging you. People (even friends) say things like "oh, you have such a cute face...you'd look so much better if you lost weight" or "your husband is tall and skinny - you look like a ball next to him!" - more on this kind of body-shaming trend later.

I get it. I know how it feels, and I understand that there is nothing anyone can say or do that will help.

We found out that my thyroid levels are low. Not dangerously low, but lower than the 'normal' range. I have hypothyroidism. The doctor explained what it meant, and what the options were for treatment. She was honest, she was very matter-of-fact, and, knowing that I like to do my research, recommended papers and journal articles written on hypothyroidism and related subjects.

"Having children is going to be tough," she said, "Given your circumstances and medical history, I'd recommend that the sooner you start trying, the better your chances are".

She also said something incredible (for a doctor), 'off the record' - the treatment for hypothyroidism meant taking a hormone replacement tablet, and she found that while a lot of patients' thyroid levels improved, they also had the unpleasant side effects to deal with. She said that my thyroid levels weren't low enough to cause alarm yet, and suggested I try a different route for a couple of months before considering the drugs. She gave me a list of foods to avoid, some good advice, and a much-needed hug.

It was reassuring. I spent hours reading and talking to other women in similar situations. I promised myself that I would make a conscious effort to stop hating my body. It's not easy. There are days when the sheer force of the negativity takes my breath away. Hating my flatmate for her amazing metabolism (sorry, B, I love you), hating the happy, gorgeous women picking up their kids from the school nearby, hating the way my clothes fit, hating the way my hair falls...it's exhausting. In the past, my go-to solution was to repress everything until it got to a point where I couldn't ignore it, and then I would write about it. Now, however, every time a negative thought strays across my mind, I write it down immediately, and I deal with it.

I refuse to get sucked into that spiral of self-hatred and shame again.

I have to go back to the doctor at the end of January for more blood tests. Until then, I have a specific plan to follow, and a new life to plan (in a new country).

So what was the point of this post?

1. To help other people out there. You're not alone. I know what you're going through, I know how insensitive people can be with their "jokes" and offers to "help", and I know how tough it is. Nobody else understands, and that's okay.

2. To remind myself that it's going to be okay. I am so lucky to have found my doctor, I am so very lucky to be married to the most amazing, supportive man, and I'm strong enough to stop hating myself. I've reached a point in my life where every insecurity is being dealt with as it shows up (instead of being repressed, like in the past). I'm doing the right things, eating the right things in the right amounts, I've done my research, and, most importantly, I've talked to other people in my situation (or similar). The weight will drop off eventually.

3. To remind every woman and young girl to love herself. I will be a mother some day, and I want my children to love themselves. I want them to be happy, to accept their individual bodies for their uniqueness, to learn, from their mother, that there is beauty and perfection in every flaw. I want to promote a healthy body image for my future children and for my sisters. I want to have the courage to tell aforementioned "well meaning" relatives to keep their opinions and "advice" to themselves.

4. Most importantly, I want to remind people to stop fat-shaming (or body-shaming in general). Overweight and obese people know that they have the extra kilos. You're not being "helpful" or doing the whole "tough love" thing, you're just being a pathetic human being. Conversely, telling someone that they're "too skinny" is also not okay. Stop body-shaming. No exceptions. If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.