Friday, December 12, 2008

Fit-ness: a sob story and a shameless plea

Raise your hand if way back in school you were the kind to get to work on a given piece of graded material at the last possible minute? I certainly was. And tonight I am again. The incomparable Magpie is giving away a Wii Fit literally for a song. Ok, not so much a song as a story. About fitness. And sweet dreams featuring a Wii Fit. Told to her no later than 11:59pm tonight (see above re: last minute). Terms and restrictions apply.

The genre is left wide open. I choose sob story. The kind that usually ends with a shameless plug, plea, or good old fashioned begging. I won't disappoint.

So once upon a time there lived a little girl. Well, before that, the Earth cooled and then the dinosaurs came, but that's not important right now. Point is, I used to be fit. I used to be a competitive swimmer, even. Last summer I surprised myself with what I could still do.

But at some point (puberty, ok, it was puberty), PCOS, though I didn't then know this evil being's proper name, showed up, kicked off its shoes and decided to stay. The fucker even moved across continents with us. Couldn't shake that bastard. I kicked its ass a few times. Got my weight down, some, a time or three. Two years into a big giant fight got my body to ovulate. But the fucker loves to have the last laugh. I carry, now, the weight of all my pregnancies. I started the one with Monkey 40+lbs less than where I sit tonight. I started the one before her, the one that ended in a miscarriage at more like 45 or more less.

I didn't realize just how bad it had gotten until I was standing in line for the trapeze, and realized that people are looking at me funny. Kinda the I can't believe she is gonna do this kind of a look. I looked around, and realized that everyone else was in much better shape. Much better. I didn't care. I was there to do something CAAAAAREYZZZZZZEEEEEEEEE. But damn if that ladder didn't kinda shake under me. And damn if my poor arms didn't feel the entire weight of the giant sac of potatoes that is me when I stepped off that platform. And tripple damn if the pictures didn't all look kinda sad. I posted the best one here, and you can still tell my ass is lobbying for its own zipcode.

I denied things for a while, wearing maternity and rationalizing it as soon to be replaced by my regular clothing. But recently I broke down and bought, in two installments of 2 pairs each, 4 pairs of pants in size humongous. I'd like to give them away someday, and not because I need something bigger.

It's not a vanity issue with me. Believe me, I have very little vanity left. But my knee hurts from carrying the extra weight. It stinking hurts every time I go down the stairs, and every other time when I go up. Bending over to wash the tub so kids could take a bath? Ginormous effort. Not to mention I kinda want to see that old hag AF again some day, and last year's experience shows that the traitor runs and hides at weight fifteen pounds below where I am now.

I am not dumping on my body. I know it's doing the best it can given PCOS, and my new friend thyroid issues (which may have just become more complicated than anyone expected-- back onto beta blockers with me, but that is a story for another day). But it needs help. Industrial strength help. Shiny new Fit type of help would be just what the doctor ordered, methinks. PCOS isn't fighting fair, so why should I?

And if my sob story doesn't convince, think of the children. One child in particular-- Monkey. Scoring a Fit (as opposed to pitching one) might just be what I need to pull out a win in that coveted coolest mom in the house category. And because I am good at paranoia, I can also tell myself that the Fit would serve as an insurance policy against that fucker PCOS grabbing the bottom bunk in her room. Because, you know, her three hours of gymnastics a week is clearly not enough. Think of the childrens!!!!


ms. G said...

You make me giggle, Julia.

I know what you mean about it not being about vanity. I want to feel physically capable again. Thank goodness I lost my A weight, but still can't shake the M weight. There could be a whole post in the meaning of that.

Hope you get your fit!

Kymberli said...

You win, hands down. I completely get it. I'm about 30 lbs heavier than where I was at this point last year. PCOS is an ugly biatch, isn't she? So many things rang true for me. I started inexplicably getting a little puffy 'round the midsection my senior year of high school. I was small enough at the time that it didn't make much of a difference for a couple of years, and it wasn't until after I was diagnosed with PCOS six or seven years later that I realized I started gaining weight right around the time my periods started getting all wonky. As in, disappearing. When I was diagnosed and the RE explained all of the symptoms, that was the biggest retrospective AHA! moment of my life. And then I cried.

Weight - I hate it. PCOS makes it to much harder on us, doesn't it? If I even look at a piece of bread I gain two pounds, so the fact that I have a cookie-baking husband doesn't help. Damn those round desserts of sin with their chocolate-chipped goodness.

Rosepetal said...

Hugs to you. I also have very little vanity left after everything. You deserve the Wii Fit!

Aurelia said...

I think you should win! I vote Julia!

I have one and it's fun, but don't assume it's perfect, okay? Just because the weight requires an overall life style change, and a nice hormone balance.

I'm finding out that if my hormones are off, I can no more lose weight than fly to the moon. So, yes, workout, but be gentle with yourself.

Betty M said...

Fit., lithe me is a thing of the past. Nothing like a diet of IVF, pregnancies, m/cs to bring out the hard to shift poundage. I hope you garner the Wii.

Magpie said...

I can't even blame PCOS.

Miryam (mama o' the matrices) said...

oh, but I'm laughing here. Yes, think of Monkey - but will a Fit save the bottom bunk?

Anonymous said...

did you win, cause I'm about to go get you one...I think you're hysterical, tho I know partly serious which makes you even more fun.

Think of the children ha ha. nicely written.

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