What’s Different?

February 15, 2011 at 2:25 pm (Healthy...?) (, , , , , )

I stopped working out in November. I’d worked out consistently, at least 5 times a week, from July til then. I had muscles. Definition. A hint of a waist instead of straight down from my breasts to my hips. I liked the way I was looking. So did my girlfriend. So what happened? I got sick. Not working out became my evening habit instead of turning on the DVD and sweating for an hour. I also stopped writing down my calorie intake and when I didn’t immediately start gaining the weight back I thought it was all good. Fooled myself into believing I could still maintain my weight loss.

HAH! SO NOT! I gained 6 pounds from Thanksgiving to New Year’s. I tried to rationalize it but my scale doesn’t lie. It’s cruel and unyielding and tells me my body fat percentage has been creeping up in the past 6 weeks. Oh how I loathe stepping onto that thing in the morning. I even go so far as to think “skinny” thoughts and expel all my breath before allowing my feet to touch the offending and all-too-damaging-to-my-self-esteem piece of molded plastic. So while the actual weight gain hasn’t been horrendous, I’m losing muscle along with my turn back into a sloth.

And I’m thinking that my journey back to couch potato status has not gone unnoticed by my hormones. I barely had a period last month and this past week, when I should be experiencing things like huge boobs and weird cramps and general moodiness? Maybe some cramps. But not much else. So now I’m worried enough to start writing down my calorie intake and limiting the number of lemon bars making their way past my lips. I’ve been making an effort to eat healthier dinners (I worked last Thursday, Friday & Saturday so I know my diet sucked then. I also went out to dinner with friends Saturday night and didn’t eat well). New leaf, I tell you!

I’ve got to get back into the shape I was in 4 months ago. I bought new pants that I just got back from the tailor. I have nicer clothes than I’ve had in years waiting to be worn but I can’t seem to get my fatty arms into sleeves that fit not so long ago. And my shape was so…intriguing to my girlfriend. Yeah, definitely gotta make some changes around here.

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A Minute to Talk About My Boobs

December 19, 2010 at 10:29 pm (Healthy...?, Randomness) (, , )

Ok, maybe more than a minute. In the past 3 or 4 months, I’ve noticed that my normally 34AAA cups increase in size right around the time I’m ovulating, making their presence known for a good week before resuming their regularly scheduled programming. They’re markedly bigger. Like, I might have to buy a different sized bra to wear when I’m ovulating bigger. This may not seem like a big deal to most people (or maybe it is, I don’t usually discuss my boobage with other people, you’re just lucky!) but for someone who’s always had a flat chest, the increased size is, well, totally bizarre.

I’ve had conversations with women who have bigger than average tatas and heard many of their complaints about bras, playing sports, people who talk to their chests, etc., and while I’m never going to have even average sized breasts, I’m beginning to realize what they’re talking about when they say that wearing sports bras and trying to run without crossing their arms over their chests is a bouncy, painful, I-may-lose-an-eyeball kind of experience. I can usually wear tank tops with a built in bra and not feel like everything’s hanging out. Not so with my hormonal boobs. I mean, I have cleavage. For real. EvenĀ confining them to a sports bra still gives me more of a chest than I’m used to. They’re, ahem, grabbable. Now that’s weird.

Only don’t grab them. Don’t touch them. They hurt. At least for the first day. 2nd and 3rd aren’t so bad. But that 1st day? I can’t even dry them off after my shower.

Thus concludes my post about my boobs. I’m sure there will be more.

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Hormonally Yours

November 21, 2010 at 7:36 pm (Baby on the Brain, TGF) (, , , , , , , )

I think that’s the name of an album from way back when by Shakespeare’s Sister. Good album. But that’s not what this post is about.

Backstory: I was never one to have a regular period. It would show up, sometimes it didn’t. Made for a few scares back when I was still sleeping with men. But that’s a whole other story.

Fast forward to July, I lost weight, my period came back. I started tracking it for real and my cycle went 33 days, 31 days, and the past few have been 29 days. I’m hopeful it’ll be more regular now but who knows? Watch, when we actually try to inseminate, I won’t have a period that month. I’m nothing if not obstinate.

BUT, the reason for the title of this post (and for this post at all) is that the past three months have seen the days leading up to, during, and after ovulatingĀ (and I think I’m ovulating because my BBT was 97.4 yesterday morning, which is .8 higher than my ‘normal’ 96.63) come with massive cramps, a migraine, and swollen and oh-my-god-don’t-let-the-wind-blow-on-them-they’re-so-sensitive breasts. They hurt when I take of my bra. They hurt when the water touches them in the shower. They hurt if I bend over. It’s unreal. My body is doing some strange things as it rewires systems that have been haywire because of my health and weight.

Oh, and moody, much? Seriously, I’m buying myself the “zero to bitch in 2.5 seconds” shirt. Short tempered, downright nasty. Is this supposed to happen when I’m ovulating? I’m used to PMS being right around the start of my period, not 2 whole weeks before! I feel so bad for my girlfriend, who, of course, gets the brunt of my moodswings. I’m normally pretty grouchy but this has been horrible.

Maybe I should go back on my beta-blocker. It made me so much more mellow and the added benefit of less painful migraines was great. Yes, it did seem to kill some of my braincells so my girlfriend made me stop taking it, but I was much more pleasant on it. I guess I can’t afford to lose that many brain cells. And the short term memory loss sucked, too.

I suppose I’ll have to remain a hormonal mass of moodiness for the time being. The influx of additional hormones when I get pregnant might make my girlfriend homicidal, though. I may have to invest in lots of massage appointments for her.

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