Unfortunately the photo on the left is the only photo I really have of me at that weight because I hated pictures and avoided cameras like the plague. But just from seeing my arm and how massive it was...
I’ve come so far. I battle PCOS and I am winning. I lost weight despite how hard this condition makes it. I got my menstrual cycle to come every single month this year after having an absent cycle for most of my life. I’m healthy and fertile now and I can start a family. I was prediabetic and I no longer am at risk for getting diabetes. Every time I go to the doctor, my blood pressure is always normal after being told for so many years it was too high and I’d need to be on medication for the rest of my life. I can run a 10k without absolutely dying. I can go to the gym and hit up to an hour on the stair master, which is so cool because when I first started I couldn’t last five minutes.
But as great as 2020 was for my weight loss journey, it also created a lot problems with food. The pandemic made me stress eat. I got scared and now I find myself insanely obsessed with what goes into my mouth, I find myself in cycles of severe restricting and hating myself if I fail at restricting. And don’t even get me started on when I overeat or eat things I’m really not supposed to. (White carbs are bad for PCOS so those are the foods I only really restrict for the sake of my reproductive health.)
I start therapy next week with someone who specializes in eating disorders. I’m so eager to get started because I’ve come so far, and I don’t want my poor relationship with food to take me down. I can’t let it take me down.
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