...And Away We Go

60 pounds.

That's not how much I need to lose, although it'd be nice to lose that much.

60 pounds. That's a big number.

Want to know the significance of that number?

That is the amount of weight I've GAINED in 6 months.Yes, 6 months. Not years. Months.

Seem impossible? Yeah, I never thought it'd be possible either, but here I am, squeezing into my maternity clothes (I am not pregnant), looking in the mirror with complete lack of recognition of the woman in front of me, and waking up with panic when I realize who I've become.

To my credit, I am on prednisone (a type of oral steroid) to help with my rheumatoid arthritis, and I've been on this bittersweet drug for...well, about 8 or 9 months. It all coincides. Steroids are notorious for making one's appetite fly out of control, not to mention packing on water weight and overall edema.

I've battled my weight since I was a kid, perhaps about 12 or 13 or so. Looking at old pictures of myself, I don't think I looked chubby, but standards for chubbiness have changed in the last 20 years or so since I was a child. We are more forgiving as a society now for what is considered "chunky." By today's standards, I probably would have been considered a relatively normal kid, but even normal today carries with it warning signals for what may lie ahead as an adult.

At 15, I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis (RA). I was very sick in high school as a result and lost all my "baby fat." I remained tiny through high school and most of college, and then my RA went into remission. Mixed blessing, as it turns out. I felt great physically, and as a result, my appetite came back. For the next several years, I dieted here and there, and ranged anywhere from the mid-normal BMI range to the lower-obese BMI range. Ironically, amongst my lowest weights was when I was pregnant with my kids. My highest weight was before getting pregnant with my daughter (my oldest). Before her, I had several miscarriages and my reproductive endocrinologist suggested that I should consider lopping off a few pounds. 30 pounds and 600 injections of heparin (a blood thinner thought to avoid clotting, and subsequent miscarriage, during pregnancy) later, my daughter was born. I gained most the weight back I'd lost, only to lose 30 pounds again before becoming pregnant with my son. After he was born, I continued to lose weight, reaching my all time low since high school.

Holy moly! I was wearing clothes I never thought I'd wear, especially at my age! For the first time, I felt comfortable in my skin, and not just in an aesthetic sense. I fit into clothes, I didn't feel the "fat bloat" that I'm sure many of you are all too aware of, my thighs didn't rub together anymore...life should have been great. But my RA wasn't. In exchange for my beautiful little son, my body broke down. I could barely exercise - could barely walk - and could hardly even lift my sweet little boy on most days. I tried regimen after regimen of treatments ranging from biologic infusions to a couple different types of self-injected biologic treatments and while they would work initially, the honeymoon wore off quickly. On came the prednisone. The nasty little pills with so much power. On my worst days, all I had to do was pop a few of those little suckers and I felt great. So great, all I wanted to do was sit and eat. And eat some more. Forget healthy snacks - prednisone-takers rarely crave apples and yogurt and carrot sticks. We want pizza, ice cream, hamburgers, and pretty much anything that will make our hearts and tummies happy but our waistlines expand.

It started slowly: a cookie here, a slice of pizza there, but healthy eating the rest of the day. I'm not sure what happened, but it's like I awoke one day and said, "Screw it. If I'm physically miserable, I deserve to eat to my heart's content." Only now, I'm even more physically miserable because I'm in pain *and* I'm up 60 pounds.

And that's how I know it's not all prednisone's fault. Sure, it may have initially caused my appetite to increase. But it was my decision to give into it. It was my decision to indulge every craving, not just one or two a week. It was my decision to throw caution to the wind and eat with wild abandon, swearing the next day would be different. It's time to own up. It's time to take responsibility, to accept that prednisone may not be going anywhere but my weight can. It can go up, or it can go down. It's my choice.

Today, I make the choice.

I choose to not let my disease conquer me, to not let the medications get the better of me. Today, I make my own decisions.

Well, to be technical, yesterday. Yesterday, I started a cleanse: homemade vegetable broth, carrot juice, and lots and lots of water. I will do the same today. I have a lot of nasty stuff in my system and I don't even want to get into my stomach issues that have occurred from years and years of putting potent drugs (prescription, not street drugs!) into my body. After today, I plan to move onto a few days of fruits and veggies only, and then incorporate proteins and grains. This serves two purposes: ridding my body of artificial additives and putting the kibosh on my out-of-control appetite and sugar cravings. Within a week, I hope to be on a regular, well-rounded diet incorporating simple portion-control. Unfortunately, I cannot exercise. Not even swimming. The pain factor is too high, but I do get out with my children every day and try to walk around a bit, albeit very slowly. I'm on a new biologic therapy which over the past two weeks has actually been showing some positive results so hopefully, my body will feel well enough to incorporate some exercise soon. I have a never-used elliptical collecting dust that would love some company. Until then, my challenge is calories in versus calories out.

Since yesterday, I lost 3 pounds of water weight. These first few days of weight loss are always such a great motivator, aren't they? It's like nature designs it purposely to lose several pounds quickly at first to instill a sense of efficacy in the dieter.

This time, I will do it. I don't want to lose 60 pounds, but I'd be happy with 40 to 45. I joined this community to be part of a culture that so many understand. I need the support as much as I need my own accountability. I want to feel good again. I want to my weight to be gentle on my joints so I have many years left with my original knees. I want to be an example to my children. I want to recognize the woman in the mirror again.

And away we go.