My recovery is solid, and I feel strong.
Those are true statements. And yet…
I went to another doctor’s appointment today, in the way that I typically take care of things in these unicorn weeks when my school year is over but my kids’ is not. I always get a haircut and color, see my gynecologist, schedule my mammogram, get my teeth cleaned, these sorts of things that stay undone during my academic year.
I once again saw the weight on my chart. First, let me assure that like many in recovery, I avert my gaze when my weight is read. But, my healthcare network has changed the format of the after-visit summary that pops up on my phone; the weight is now the first thing high up on the right, impossible not to see.
Today’s weight confirmed that higher weight reported at my annual exam a few weeks ago. Not only that, but it was a pound higher–I have spent SO MANY hours in the gym since that appointment.
I really couldn’t help myself, and I scrolled back through previous visits from 2021, 2020, 2019… checking my reported weights, which I had avoided at the time. My trek down memory lane left me with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I am a solid 10 pounds heavier than I was in 2019 and 2020. Who knows what happened in 2021, since all the visits were virtual. TEN!
I know that many people gained weight over the pandemic. I really thought I hadn’t… I mean, I knew I’d put a few pounds on recently, but I didn’t think I had fallen prey to the massive Covid gain. After all, I worked out SO MUCH MORE during the pandemic.
Yes, I realize that muscle is denser than fat. This is not what’s going on here. While I make a point not to measure my body anymore, I know that all of my measurements would be bigger. I can feel it, and the numbers confirm it.
What I do not know is what to do about it.
I can’t work out any smarter or harder. I can’t eat any better (OK, I totally could, but I’m not going to…). I know the ED isn’t an option. I’m really, really, really trying hard to embrace intuitive eating, so I don’t want to go back to counting macros or anything that strict (even though I know that plan totally “works” for me).
I know my therapist would suggest that the answer is simply to make peace with living in a bigger body. I simply cannot. I don’t like this bigger body.
My doctor is rechecking my thyroid level. My thyroid quit after my second child and I’ve been on meds ever since. I’m praying it will come back out of whack and my pills will be adjusted and these 10 pounds will just fall off. Somehow, though, I doubt this solution will be so simple…