"Note: I ran across Lisa story from another blogger MizFit and I am so happy that Lisa decided to share her story! ~Sheri" TCJQ8CG4Y8YM
It was August 2006. 8 months since the Sweat Lodge. 8 months of going off medications.
I had high blood pressure and was dizzy all the time. I went to my doctor for something else and she said to me:
"You must lose weight. You are obese."
I was so OUTRAGED. I was furious and offended in every possible way. I knew I was fat. I wasn't BLIND. But for some reason having some skinny doctor tell me in a snotty tone that I was obese and pre-diabetic was rage-inducing.
I zoned out after she said the word Obese, stewing in venomous hatred for her. She handed me a pamphlet on how to treat diabetes and how diabetic people should eat. I remember leaving the office and going home still angry.
My neighbor (and one of my dearest friends) was home and I told her what happened. She listened quietly and didn't say anything either way as I vented. "How could she call me obese? Who does she think she is?" I was so mad. I was swearing up a storm about how unprofessional and rude she was to me.
I had explained to the doctor that I'd tried everything and could not lose weight. So why wasn't she HELPING me?
I went to bed upset. I woke up the next day upset. Then I started to go through the phases of grief: shock, anger, guilt (and self-loathing), depression...
I was so fed up with being fat. I was weighing in at 250 pounds. I was miserable, hating my body, hating that I’d let myself get so fat. At barely 5’5, I was well over 100 pounds overweight. I was considered morbidly obese.
The doctor was right. My anger started to subside and what broke me out of that outrage towards my doctor was the word “Pre-Diabetic.” I had to turn that anger towards something else and make a change.
That was the slap in the face I needed. “WAKE UP! Your worst fear is approaching!”
Blood sugar tests.
Lots of equipment.
I had ignored the constant aches and pains of my body: the aching, throbbing feet from carrying 250 pounds around; the horrendous back pain from trying to hold up a humongous chest; the screaming pain in my hips when I walked; being out of breath walking one flight of stairs. Somehow, I’d managed to ignore those wake-up calls. That doctor was the drastic wake up call I finally needed.
As I previously stated, my doctor prescribed me a weight loss drug. I took them for two days and flushed them down the toilet. I hadn’t liked the way I’d felt. I was wired, like on speed or something. And after the six months it took me to detoxify from my antidepressants, I refused to fix problems with pills any longer.
I really wish I could remember what sparked the thought of how to lose weight. Maybe I just always knew it and ignored it. I didn’t get any books, didn’t go to any websites, didn’t talk to surgeons, and didn’t search for any diet gurus. I did it all on my own.
I watched what I ate.
It worked. I thought I had tried everything. I really hadn't. I finally found something that works and I never faltered on that resolve.
This weekend I was cleaning a closet and found a box of old photos. It was hard to see some of them. Some of them were too embarrassing to ever post. But I share this story with all of you because I *know* there are people out there like me who felt (or currently feel) how I did.
Thanks for reading-