In July this year, I weighed in at my highest weight ever in my 32 years of life, 243 pounds. And even though folks say I have tall girl energy, and that I wear my weight well, my frame stands at only five feet and three inches tall. Seeing that number on the scale sent me into both a state of shock and denial. Almost halfway to 300 pounds? NO way! But the result of months of inactivity and binge eating shone in bold blue-lit numbers right before me.
I felt every one of those 243 pounds.
And every one of those 243 pounds was visible on me. I began to obsessively look at recent photos others took of me then and felt ashamed at how…big... I looked. I remember seeing a photo my mother took of me from behind and being mortified.
Was that really my body?
How did I let myself get so big?
Is everyone else asking themselves the same question?
I had barely taken any full-body photos of myself during that time because, duh, denial was still very present. If I didn’t see it, I could ignore it. I was aware that binge eating had become a regular thing again with stress, grief, and restlessness all taking their toll on me. I knew my clothes were fitting tighter and tighter and then not at all. I noticed the shorter breaths, the need for my inhaler, and the achy joints. I was tired, sluggish, and heavy, and felt a bit of helplessness about it all.
Since being medicated and having a baby, weight loss has not been as easy for me as it had been in the past. That was..is..humbling. Before medication, fitness was one of the many hyper-fixations that served as a distraction from my deteriorating mental health. So many sources said to just move my body more to get rid of depression and I took that shit to the extreme.
At my lowest, I weighed about 150 pounds and wore a size four.
I don’t think I can ever achieve that again. I know that I don’t ever want to. I was constantly in the gym or some sort of workout class. My life revolved around my gym schedule. I obsessed over calories and meal prepping. My sleep schedule was non-existent. And I was never satisfied with my body, no matter how small I had gotten. I always felt there was more to lose. Whew. I think that’s a whole other essay for another day. I’m glad that I deleted the Instagram account I used to have to document my fitness endeavors because I know I’d unhealthily obsess over it now. Upsetting myself over what my body used to be able to achieve.
Back then it seemed that suddenly my mental health began to tank more rapidly and working out became very difficult and mentally draining. I would go to the gym and cry while working out. Or get there and not be able to work out at all and cry about that. Eventually, I stopped going altogether. To make matters worse, this caused a strain in my relationship at the time because one of the few things we bonded over was fitness. And since I wasn’t working out as much, was eating more, and putting on weight, I wasn’t as attractive to him.
I felt like I was losing my mind. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake it. I continued to spiral into deep depression and ate my feelings on the way there. I even attended a food addicts anonymous meeting, things were THAT bad. I was at my wit’s end and decided to try that only thing I had yet to try, medication.
I eventually started my medication journey and while I temporarily began to feel better, the medication caused even more weight gain, rapidly so. I’ve since been through countless antipsychotics, antidepressants, and anti-anxiety meds to find the right combination for me and more than a few of them caused weight gain. I felt like I was fighting a losing battle when I would put the effort in to lose weight. Only to see the scale increase instead. The pounds were slow to fall, if at all, and I felt defeated. So I stopped putting in the effort at all.
But.. back to why we’re here.
After seeing 243 pounds, I knew that I couldn’t allow myself to get any bigger. No way was this healthy. And with an energetic toddler, I needed to keep up with, I had to get lighter on my feet. I had already been trying and failing at losing weight and all of my previous methods of warding off bingeing were no longer effective. I needed something more.
I eventually joined a kickboxing gym again and bought a walking pad (though I’ve slacked on both these last couple of months with good reason) and lost five pounds on my own. Even still I needed a boost to keep me motivated to continue because the pounds weren’t dropping as much as I’d like them to. After a while, I admitted to myself that I needed help and was no longer in the space to do things on my own. A physical trainer wasn’t in the budget, and I was not interested in the popular GLP-1 drugs1 out right now, so I needed to be creative with my options.
Then a friend told me about Phentermine.
Phentermine is an appetite suppressant that is taken for three months. After doing my research, consulting my psych, and starting treatment with a new primary care physician, I began taking it. And it has been one of the best decisions I could have made for myself recently. I knew early on that I would eventually write about choosing to take this medicine. I didn’t just want to pop up saying “Hey look at me, I lost 20 pounds” without being transparent about a large part of how I did it. The title may be a bit misleading, though, because I don’t actually think it is an easy way out. Diet and exercise are still a part of the regimen, otherwise, the results won’t last. But I know some folks view taking any drug to promote weight loss as just that. I used to be one of them. It wasn’t the easy way out but it was an easy decision to make when I considered all the factors, most importantly my physical health and I’m now down 20 pounds.
After three months on the drug, I weighed in at 22 pounds.
I feel better…lighter...
I look better…brighter...
My clothes fit better, I feel good in them.
I’m happier, and so proud of doing the work to get here.
And, I’m no longer binge-eating or thinking about food all day, which is the ultimate blessing. Especially because it led to another revelation on how I could use medication to help in another area. Phentermine has stimulant properties and when I first started it, I cleaned my entire apartment and still had energy and the desire to do more. Over time this leveled out, but for the first time, my ADHD was being indirectly treated and I was yet again exposed to a new “normal.” I talked to my psych about this revelation and expressed a desire to treat my ADHD medically after I finished Phentermine.
I previously tried stimulants to treat it but with having Bipolar Disorder, they often induced hypomania or an elevated agitated state. So I gave up that search because, hey, I lived this long figuring out ways to get through it. But after knowing another way my life could exponentially improve for the better, I had to give it another try. I am now taking a stimulant called Vyvanse for ADHD and it has done wonders for my energy and focus. It also has appetite-suppressing properties and is often used to treat binge-eating, go figure. I get just a bit more help while I do my part to drop this weight.
I don’t have an exact goal weight but I do know that I want to be under 200 pounds, and I want to look and feel good in my body. I want to be able to quickly make a mad dash for Ava when she darts out into the street. In the meantime, I’m working on loving and supporting my body in whatever state it's currently in.
Currently.
Feeling — Amazing. I have been on a cloud since being fired. I hope this feeling stays for a bit.
Reading — “Juliet Takes a Breath” by Gabby Rivera, still.
Listening — A Cozy Christmas Jazz playlist as I read, write, and play Sudoku.
Anticipating — My trip to Atlanta next week to visit my best friend.
Contemplating — Communication. All aspects of it.
Affirming — My words are needed in this world. My stories have healing powers.
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There is absolutely nothing wrong with those drugs, they are just not for me and my fitness goals.
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