Pharmacy Snafu Rectified

Current Dosing: 4 Met XR tabs in p.m. with dinner.

Menses Still MIA.

That is all.

Funny, I Never Equated My Self Image With That of Shrek...

What Not To Wear (If You're Fat)

The Post-Specialist Post

Good News:

• 6 lbs lost since starting Topamax over a month ago.
• BP: 117/70 [Last: 138/80].
• Hemoglobin A1C: 5.5 [Non Diabetics <6.0%]>
• Cortisol, total serum: "In range," 11.3
• LDL Cholesterol: "In range," 122 [<130>
• HDL Cholesterol: 34, "Low," [>/=40 mg/dL]
• T4, total (Thyroid Function): "In Range," 8.5 [4.5-12.0 ug/dL]
  

Bad News:

• Menses still MIA. [Though starting to spot 8/24]
• Glusose, fasting: 108, "High," [65-99 mg/dL]
• Insulin, serum: 22 [ <17>
• Uric Acid still elevated. [9.7; Range: 2.5-7.0 mg/dL]; Still concerned about possibility of Gout.
• Fatty Liver Syndrome still a concern:
  Triglycerides: 238 [<150 mg/dL]
  AST: 55 [10-30 U/L]
  ALT: 114 [6-40 U/L]
• Discussed "gravel" stones in Gall Bladder.
  

Plan of Action:

• Double up on Tricor.
• Continue taking Topamax for migraines and hoping for best with appetite suppression.
• Follow up w/Neuro re: Topamax [might increase due to mild breakthrough headaches].
• Gradually switch to Metformin XR, since my evening ones are appearing in morning stoolage.
  

Specialist is concerned about my depression and how I'm "not myself."

No shit.

Now, A Rant.

Hey asshole:

So yeah, we were rolling around, playfully on the bed tonight. And holy shit you had a huge boner. And yeah, I thought about letting you roger me with it.

But you kept yammering.

I was still willing to "take one for the team," and let you slap a jimmy on and hit it with some lube and just whale away on my hole, doggy style, as you always want it. Doggy style. It could be any anonymous twat being offered up for you to pump away for all of what... five minutes, and at the end you act as if you did me some great favor.

But you kept yammering.[about how you need foreplay too, when I said I needed it, that I needed to get warmed up; yet there you were, fully engorged, and ready to go]

If it's at all possible, I could feel the membranes of my vagina dehydrate as you reminded me of how when we got married I foolishly said how I'd never "deny you love." All I wanted tonight was a definition of what you thought "love" was. Apparently it's: penis inserted in vagina until it emits a viscous load. Funny thing is, way back in the day when I foolishly said I'd never "deny you love," you were still somewhat interested in whether or not I achieved an orgasm, or at the very least, if sex was somewhat satisfying for me. Luckily for me we live in the electronic age, and I've got Billie Bob... my back massager, who I might add, does not yammer.

NOT.

ONE.

WHIT.

So, with that being said, as you came in here, and interrupted me pecking out this rant to "request" access to my squish mitten, only didn't even sweet talk me, I believe the term was, "I want to stick it in," was met with me admonishing you with, "Hey, you had your chance. I was going to take one for the team, but you wouldn't shut the fuck up," and you said that you were going to stick it no matter what...

Newsflash...

I'm going to sleep tonight with an old fashioned, spring-loaded mouse trap.

We'll see who's laughing in the morning... or on the ride to the emergency room.

WHICHEVER COMES FIRST.

Signed,

Underfucked & Overfrustrated

PS: I took Friday off for a long birthday weekend--and I think the first gift I'll give myself will be the best multiple orgasm that alternating current can provide. He who laughs last, laughs best... and has the best orgasm. Try to top that!

------------------------------------------------------------

This is devastating to me actually. Always been a very affectionate and very sexual person... for my sex life to suck so royally... it's like a little piece of me dies every day. And the way he talks to me... and despite me being as blunt as blunt can be... I cannot for the life of me convey to him what his words and actions do to me.

Honestly, I sit at my desk and simply make a prayer "I don't want to be here anymore." I say this everyday. And by here, I mean existing... AT ALL. The deep dark nothingness that awaits after my last breath has got to be a lot more peaceful than this.

In my first marriage, which had its own set of faults and flaws, I never sat down and analyzed every little transgression, every little hurt word; and yet, in this marriage, I analyze everything, and see a pattern of verbal and emotional abuse, which in hindsight parallels the abuse and feelings of being unwanted that I suppressed or disregarded in my first marriage.

And I am so impotent, flailing about, crying on the inside, feeling trapped, and unloved...

Only this time, I'm five days shy of 39 years of age, by all accounts an old woman

A fat, polycystic, possibly infertile/perimenopausal, old woman, whose husband only views her as nothing more than a burden half the time, and the other half the time, a life support system for a glory hole.

Menses Missing in Action

July's never came.

Next specialist appointment: Aug. 20th.

Hate to say it...

But despite his best intentions to the contrary, my husband is the "trigger" for most of my depression related outbursts and sobbing episodes. And rather than listen to me when I speak, he zones me out.

Lucky for me I have very sharp knives, because tonight when he refused to stop pestering me while I was cutting some chicken, I cut about 1/8 of my fingernail off, right out of the nail bed, a whisper more keratin more, and it would have exposed all the nerves under the finger nail.

I sobbed that I'm empty and that I want to die. And he just doesn't get me at all. He comes in all kissy kissy thinking that he can cute his way out of anything, and when I am still a quivering mass of tears and sobbing and wailing in a primal way, unresponsive, he then gets indignant, when all is required is a sincere, "I'm sorry," and just holding me, rocking me, in silence.

Souvenirs From The Blogathon...

Here are some posts I posted at my other blog to raise awareness of PCOS. I'm dismantling the blogathon portion of my other blog, as this is something very personal, and not everyone knows of my PCOS blog, so I figure I'll just slap all the posts herein... hopefully everything will travel well from one blog to the other. If not, I'm ambivalent at this point, as I doubt if anyone truly reads this blog anyway.

#44: Think You Have PCOS? Get These Two Books!

Great wealth of information to be had in these two books!

The first book is written by one of the leading experts in the PCOS field; and the second is a great book written about an approach towards healthier eating, as it relates to the Glyemic Index.

I highly recommend both.

#43: Where We Left Off In Post # 32 -- Another Pictorial

From this...

1987-1988?

Weight: Roughly 175

2007:
Tipping in at "two and a half bucks... and then some."

#41: Feelings That Seem To Come Out of No Where

A few days ago, out of the blue, I came to discover that a close friend is pregnant for the second time in as many years. And though I am happy for her, abundantly happy for her, and though it has absolutely nothing to do with me, I cannot help but feel defective.

Reproduction was always something I took for granted; as a teen I always worried I'd get pregnant. Little did I know how very moot that would be, thanks to PCOS.

Next month, I'll be 39, and from my point of view, I'm burnin' daylight on my ovaries from a reproductive standpoint.

Will I end up being my generation's "Odd Aunt Out" who never had a child of her own?

At times I kid myself into a false sense of ambivalence (or is it?), thinking "If it happens, it happens," and all those other things folks tell themselves to prevent themselves from going into a full on melt down.

The one thing in this life that I am fairly certain I would be talented at, is being a mom.

Given my situation, and another health situation unrelated to PCOS, which would no doubt prevent me from using fertility drugs etc, the notion of IVF is nothing more than a pipe dream, and even if it were an option, I would not open myself up to the possibility of that heartbreak.

So it is with a head full of this type of stuff this week... and then I received an email from the Maharajah informing me he booked our big vacation for next year, another cruise. This time: the Mediterranean.

And not-so-suddenly the thoughts of those tears I was going to shed for those babies that I haven't had yet, dried up. And in its place are thoughts of Barcelona and Rome and Nice, and miniature sandwiches, and Vatican City, and excursions...


#35: Increasing Your Word Power: "Omentum"

[Greater] Omentum: is a large fold of peritoneum that hangs down from the stomach, and extends from the stomach to the transverse colon.

[ED: Mind you, this is not to be confused with a Pannus.]

Check out this link to "The Biology of Blubber" over at Oprah's site. Fabulously informative!



#30: Where We Left Off In Post #23 -- Maintaining My Weight & Potentially Destroying My Epiglotis... Two Fingers At A Time...

Junior Prom Portrait

Weight: 109

Oh I discovered the purge aspect of bulemia very appealing. My family seemed either incapable or unwilling to get me the help I needed, but hell, I was out of control at that point. At one point my mother claimed she was going to send me to a shrink, and I blasted her back (me, age 16) telling her I'd go only if she herself went, too. At this stage in the game, I'm sure she'd deny that conversation ever took place.

And for one reason or another, I found myself as a senior in high school, with zero prospects, zero possibility of college (I've blogged extensively about this--I'm too lazy to search and hyperlink at the moment), and the military was the only other option for a middle class girl like me.

My moment of reckoning regarding my bulemia? I was in the barracks for one reason or another after being at the mess hall, and I thought I was alone, and took advantage of having the latrine all to myself instead of having 30 or so women buzzing about, and I unleashed for the first time in four weeks, only for my squad leader to find me, emerging from the stall, wiping the vomit from my face; and asking me if I was okay.

My eyes were sunken, my skin was sallow, and when I returned home after my Basic and Advanced Training, that would be the last I'd see of a size 10.



At the time, I was struggling to keep my weight under 125

The weight started its ascent, and nothing from my bag of tricks worked anymore, and perhaps it was at this point my PCOS started to assert itself with a vengeance.

[To be continued...]

#23: Where We Left Off In Post #17 -- "The Metamorphosis"

Eighth grade portrait, taken beginning of year

Weight: 160

Most anorexics don't set out with that as a goal. Usually it manifests itself out of desperation; as an outward sign that they're in denial. Denial that they are in control.

I was one desperate thirteen year old, and I had been screaming for help it seemed forever. Funny, when you're a kid... two years can seem like forever.

As I alluded in post #17, junior high was torturous unto itself: cruel girls, eand even crueler boys. I did not "fit in" anywhere. Harrassed at every turn. Homelife could best be described as "chaotic" and disconnected. As a result for two of the three years in junior high, I ended up in remedial reading and math. I just lacked motivation and focus. Pretty hard to be motivated and focused when all you want to do is simply not exist.

If there were a diet out there, I tried it, and did so in private. No one in my family knew what I was doing until or unless someone saw me exercising, but all the internal number crunching, and eventual destructive behaviors... not until later.

I pilfered my mother's AYDS Appetite suppressing caramel chews and her Cambridge shake powders. Eventually I hit a plateau.

This was 1981, and Richard Simmons had a great t.v. show. Part talk show, part cooking healthy, and exercise. I watched it, regardless of what time it came on, even if that meant waking up at 4 a.m., to do so.

I became obsessed with exercise, and kept a little notebook with me, keeping track of every calorie consumed, and by extension, every calorie burned.

I ran. I biked. I jumping jacked. I sat up. Aerobics. You name it.

I eventually got to the point where I was weighing myself at the nurse's office at the junior high school every day, because I thought that scale was more accurate than the piece of shit scale we had at home.

The nurse never thought to tell my mother of this obsessive behavior.

Another plateau...

Then Dexatrim! Way back in the days when it had the "good stuff" in it. I'd go to school like a zombie, still don't know how I functioned, but I did.

Then laxatives!

And lastly, when I hit that one final plateau before the end of the school year, I had this brilliant idea: "I wonder if I could lose weight if I vomit after eating..."

I can remember coming home from church one day, during my freshman year, and catching hell from my mother, because some ol' blue haired biddy confronted her about my response to the query, "How are you losing so much weight?" Apparently, no one took the reply, "I'm killing myself," seriously.

From the middle of my eighth grade year until September when I started my freshman year I went from 160 pounds to 109.

Lord only knows what kind of damage I was doing to all of my systems back then, and what consequences of those actions I am dealing with today...

Three years later...

Junior prom portrait

Weight: 109
Noteworthiness: I could count my ribs

[To be continued...]

#17: Where We Left Off In Post #7

To be honest, I didn't think I was all that fat to begin with, yet junior high was hell for me. On the surface I've always been a very vivacious, gregarious person, but at my heart beats a sensitive soul. And every day for three years of junior high was just torture.

And regarding "that which soon flowed" soon thereafter that summer," click here.

In stark contrast it made the traditional garbage of a freshman year in high school to be a cakewalk in comparison... but only after the metamorphosis took place, and it started in the middle of my eighth grade year.

[To be continued...]

Eighth grade portrait, taken beginning of year
Weight: 160

#16: Mind If I Check Under the Hood?

For those folks reading this for themselves, or perhaps a loved one in mind, be forewarned, modesty goes out the window after a while.

So when I say they'll need to check under the hood, I don't mean the family mini van. Unfortunately. Oh no!

It is precisely what you think it means, checking under the clitoral hood, to rule out pheochromocytoma (see previous post for definition).

For women who have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome who also have high blood pressure and also have elevated levels of DHEA, a good way to detect if something is wrong with your adrenals is an examination of your clitoris. DO NOT ASK ME WHY. I DID NOT CREATE THE HUMAN BODY. But through some mystery the clitoris and the adrenals are somehow related, and can tell the endocrinologist a bit of information about your adrenals when a full blood test/panel is unavailable.

Just make sure that whomever is performing this exam is board certified and has a nurse or physicians assistant in the room with you, and has warm hands, and I think you'll be alright!


#11: PCOS NOT So Fun Fact -- Hypertension


On top of all of the prodding and poking and scoping and lab work involved in the proper dianosis and management for Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, one also needs to have a good head for facts, a good notebook or at the very least be a savvy Google-r.

As someone being treated with this disorder, I know that every day that elapses and it is left UNTREATED, it causes cellular damage. Being fat is simply and cosmetically the most superficial and obvious of the problems.

Some (I don't know if most) women who have this have hypertension, and as a result you have to discuss with your physician what is the right course of action. I only know what worked best for me.

I went to my reproductive-endocrinologist, who suggested I go on an ACE inhibitor type of blood pressure pill. I've heard the terms before: Ace inhibitor; calcium blocker; beta blocker; however, I never knew what they meant, other than having a suspicion as to they react differently with each person?

I went back to my standard endocrinologist to write the scrip for my blood pressure pills and refused.

I then went to my internist with the idea of switching me to an Ace inhibitor. My internist is a great doc, who doesn't view me as "Just an HMO number," and truly listened to me, as he knows I do my homework, and wanted to know what I researched.

I came up with two different scenarios:

Quinapril with a separate diuretic such as spironolactone (aka "Aldactone")

OR

Quinaretic (which is a combination Ace inhibitor antihypertensive & diuretic tablet)

He went with the later of the two. Aldactone is something they tend not to give women if they suspect they might end up getting pregnant, out of a concern for the fetus. However, much is written about its therapeutic benefits, how it is a potassium sparing diuretic, and how it is great for suppressing certain androgens in women with PCOS.

All I know is after several months of amenorrhea, I was back on schedule again. I never went back to my regular endocrinologist again, and my reproductive-endocrinologist is now working hand-in-hand with my internist as my primary healthcare provider.



#7: Diana Prince's Alter Ego Compells Me To Share This

Found this artwork over at: BBWW: The Fat Wonder Woman Blog.
The blog does a fantastic job of being a collection/clearinghouse of creativity
as it pertains to artistic renderings of an icon for many of us, Wonder Woman.

In many instances, the versions represented on Jamar's blog
are colorful and voluptuous. You can tell that
the artists had fun with the subject matter,
whether it be Wonder Woman specifically
or conceptualizing her as round-bodied.
And yet, no less powerful.

However, as a child in the late 1970s, Wonder Woman, to me, will always be
the version portrayed by Linda Carter.

Underoos?
Remember them?
"Underwear that's fun to wear?"

They even had a line of swimwear.
And yes, I had a Wonder Woman bathing suit,
as I just about lived in the swimming pool that summer.

But how does any of this relate?

Wonder Woman?
The bathing suit?
That summer?

How does any of it relate to PCOS?
It's important because everything else that *ahem!* flowed sometime soon after that summer, changed everything, and set forth my hormones on the slow acting avalanche I am dealing with today, 27 years later.

Last picture of me before "hormone hell"
took over, and before a lifetime of
dieting & eating disorders took over my
adolescence & early adulthood.

On the demise of my Wonder Woman bathing suit...
CLICK HERE.

It's 11:15 -- Do You Know Where Your Synapses Are?

Week Three of Deep Fried Insanity (or as I've been wont to describe the sensation of having my brain replaced with a 50/50 mix of helium and dog shit).

Today I titrate up, again. This time, the "one more pill" is done during daylight hours. Actually popped it right before starting this blog post. I go to the neuro this week for my three week follow up to see how well I'm tolerating the medication.

In the last week or so I have:

• Sung a line from Ashford & Simpson's "Solid As A Rock";
• Hummed "The Chicken Dance Song" whilst heating up some chicken noodle soup;
• Did the "Cabbage Patch" (albeit poorly);
• Channeled the ghost of Edith Bunker and shriek-sang the word, "Shish-keee-bah-beeee" repeatedly;
• Sang what I refer to as the "Papaya" song;
  
• Sang "Mr. Bifurcated Penis... More than meets the eye," as if it were a new super hero;
• Before getting into the car this morning, I LITERALLY screamed out the words "DEEP FRIED INSANITY!!!!!," and the Maharajah in true blue fashion, did not raise an eyebrow, nor did he admonish me, let alone react in any way whatsoever, as if it were the most normal thing;
  
• And lastly, today I sang the words "Blue Blocker," only to realize I did it to the same jingle/lilt as the "Hot Pockets" jingle.

Is this a glimpse into insanity or old age? Will I be one of those crazy old people uttering totally incongruent, yet wholly EFFed up and entertainingly inappropriate things?

Week 2: Two 25 mg pills last night

Outlook: Fatigued, slightly hung-over, yet not incredibly so.

$4575.00

The Cadaver Calculator - Find out how much your body is worth. From Mingle2 - Free Online Dating

Week One Status: Optomistic

Hit a plateau yesterday, where the fog lifted and I felt normalish.

Today, I encountered an issue with short term memory problems (I couldn't recall the names of the two movies I saw this weekend).

On schedule, I'll be doubling dose tonight.

WITH trepidation.

This Ring Reminded Me of A PolyCystic Ovary (Click it to go to the Etsy shop where I found it):

BMI: What Is It Good For... Absolutely Nothing

Lowest BMI, 1982: 17
Highestet BMI, 2007: 41

Classified as "extremely obese."

The twisted thing here is, my mother, who is easily tipping in at an extra buck (100 lbs) than me, falls into that same classification.

And THAT, THAT! That pisses me off.

Day Three

All I want to do is sleep.

No erratic behavior.

No out of ordinary change in appetite (to my knowledge).

Mild case of dry mouth.

Day 1: Roughly 10 Hours In

Took my first 25 mg dose this a.m. at 2, before I went to bed. About a half hour after taking, I noticed, in the mirror, my pupils doing a weird dilation thing.

Sleep Observations:

Slept soundly. Woke up fitfully. As usual. No out of the ordinary complaints from the husband about my snoring.

Dietary observations:

I cannot tolerate drinking my beloved low sugar cran-grape juice drink. It was totally foul. Putrid even.

However, my life's blood, COFFEE, remains pleasantly neutral on my tongue. No adverse taste problems.

Same thing goes for peanut butter.

Mental State:

Neutral. Pensive, yet not necessarily in an anxious way. Slight problem with typographical errors, but I'm at least aware of it. No difficulties recalling personal or workplace passwords.

Midday Analysis:

Optomistic. So-far-so-good.

Prelude: "Dope"amax

Tonight will be the first dose.

I'm approaching this experiment with great trepidation.

It's All In The Subtext

Redux
Side effects: "Spontaneous lung collapse or death."
Subtext: It's better to be dead than alive and fat.

Xenical/Meridia
Side effects: "Greasy stools, anal leakage."
Subtext: It's better to wear a diaper or shit yourself at work than be fat.

Gastric Bypass*
Side effects: "Dumping, and 10% risk of dying during surgery."
Subtext: It's better to shit yourself or risk dying an early death on a surgical table, than be fat, alive, and die a natural death.
*Believe it or not, I'm not fat enough. One has to be over 300 lbs to be considered a candidate.

Topamax
Side effects: "Dulls the personality, hair loss, et al."
Subtext: It's better to be a medically induced balding moron than be fat.


I went.
I saw.
I've got a starter pack of topamax (against my gut instinct).

I've got migraines.
I need a mood enhancer.
I'm fat.
Hell, by actuarial schedules, I'm obese.
Perhaps "morbidly."
Just for edification and extrapolation, TWENTY POUNDS overweight is the threshold for obesity.
At this point, I don't know what my BMI is.
At this point, I don't care, as it's some abstract thing in my head related to futile, unattainable goal.

Monday is going to be my mental Funday, as I'll be starting my titration schedule.

This may very well be the last cohesive thought I will have for a while.

Today's Email To The Specialist

I have an appointment with a neuro tomorrow to follow up regarding my migraines. Although I doubt if the neuro will do anything other than take an assessment tomorrow, I still require something for my mood. I am managing well with my Lexapro.

Although I do not take it every day, I'm averaging every other day at this point. I believe I don't require a full dose at the low dose. I experienced this a few years ago when I was on Celexa, as well.

My question to you is, how seriously do you think topamax will help me? I have been using the last month or so to give a lot of consideration to this. The bottom line is, I don't want my brain to suffer on topamax the way my colon and my pride did when I was on Xenical.

As it stands, I feel I'm on entirely too much medication, and it's getting tricky for me to space things out to avoid interactions etc. Just as a reminder, I believe I am passing some of my metformin pills out, undigested.

I do not know what to say other than I'm not looking for a miracle pill to make me dump off scads of weight--because I know there is nothing out there to help me. Arrogant? Perhaps. Is it my depression speaking? Perhaps. I can't help but view the whole weight loss thing as an exercise in futility and failure.

Metformin was supposed to help with my weight and it hasn't.
Xenical was supposed to help with my weight and it hasn't.

I just don't know what to say or think at this point. My depression (and joint and back pain) is keeping me from being more active, and my fat is keeping me depressed (among other things).

Received in the In-Box, Re: Xenical/Meridia/Alli

"Miracle": Weight loss drug Alli delivers more than you bargained for (diapers optional)

by: Mike Adams

When people ask, "What can I do to lose weight?" what they're really asking is, "What can I do to lose weight that doesn't require exercise or giving up all the junk foods I eat?" When it comes to weight loss, consumers are looking for a magic bullet -- a miracle pill that eliminates the responsibility of having to actually make adult decisions about their own health. GlaxoSmithKline has delivered the pot-of-weight-loss-gold at the end of the rainbow in the form of an over-the-counter drug called, "Alli."

Alli is bound to be a huge market success. Consumers are rushing to buy the latest fad drug in a desperate attempt to lose weight without having to give up their Krispy Kreme donuts or -- God forbid -- engage in physical exercise that might actually cause them to sweat (there is a great fear of exertion in America today). But while Alli will no doubt be a huge commercial success, it will prove to be an utter weight loss failure. Even in clinical trials, the drug only produced a few pounds of weight loss per year. You could lose more by walking five minutes a day, or drinking half a can of soda less than what you do now. As a serious weight loss aid, Alli falls short. Very short.

Speaking of shorts, Alli has some very entertaining side effects. The drug can cause explosive oily stools to involuntarily eject from your bowels. While that may sound like fun if you're at a frat party, it's certainly not an enjoyable experience when commuting, driving, or hanging out at the office. Dirtying your britches is bound to make the gossip rounds in mere minutes, earning you new nicknames and a repulsive, date-spoiling reputation that will be difficult to overcome. The manufacturer of Alli actually recommends that consumers "carry an extra pair of pants" with them at all times, just in case the side effects kick in. Why not just wear diapers?

Alli takers who brown their britches are the lucky ones, by the way. Imagine what happens when these side effects kick in while you're in the hot tub! Better yet, see the video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r7JMzDjIkVc (it's called "Hot Tub Mishap").

One mishap like that and you'll literally have to move to a new city and try to make new friends who hopefully haven't seen your video on YouTube. Yep: All it takes is one Alli accident + some creep at the office with a web cam mobile phone, and your ass is all over the internet in a very humiliating way.

If you don't believe me, check out "Karate Guy Craps In His Pants" at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PZLq90YeNNg

Just think, this could be YOU!

I find it interesting that this weight loss drug makes adults need to wear diapers. It's quite appropriate, actually, since people who take these weight loss drugs are acting like babies about their own health. Americans just need to grow up and start acting like adults for a change. Put down the ice cream, turn off the TV and go bicycling for goodness sake. No, your mommie isn't around to MAKE you do it, you have to do it all by yourself. (And take those training wheels off the bike while you're at it.) Tie your shoes! Clean up your room! Don't eat the entire box of ice cream! Jeez...

Nutritional deficiencies

The dirty-your-britches side effect isn't the only thing about Alli that makes me wonder what kind of desperate weight loss newbies are going to pop these pills: I'm also concerned about the fact that the drug interferes with the absorption of essential fatty acids. Given that most overweight people are already extremely deficient in omega-3 fatty acids, DHA and other healthy oils, this Alli drug is likely to put them in an even worse state of deficiency.

The drug works by interfering with the digestion of dietary fats, you see. That may sound great if you're eating a diet of fried foods, hydrogenated oils and processed meat products, but even if you block the absorption of those obesity-promoting fats, you're still left in a state of deficiency concerning the healthy oils like omega-3 fatty acids. And if you eat more flaxseed or take fish oil capsules, guess what? Alli will interfere with those, too, causing you to miss out on at least some of their benefits.

What an incredibly genius idea for a drug! Transform adults into diaper-wearing little children, then leave them in a state of nutritional deficiency. Only a drug company could have thought of this one! (And only a desperate, gullible public could actually believe the hype on a drug like this...)

If you're considering taking Alli, you can save yourself the money by following these three simple steps: 1) Sit on the toilet. 2) Do NOT pull your pants down. Leave them on. 3) Go to the bathroom anyway.

Like magic, you will experience the same side effects of Alli, which will gross you out so much that you won't even feel like eating for several hours, which means fewer calories! Repeat this each day and in a year, you'll lose weight! Be sure to stock up on extra undies before attempting this miracle weight loss recipe, because you'll need lots of spare laundry.

Alli is the only weight loss drug I know of that causes you to lose more self respect than body fat. Maybe it should be marketed as a "self image loss" drug instead of a weight loss drug.

Apropos of Something

Haven't and won't weigh myself for a few weeks.
Why ruin the afterglow of a fairly enjoyable vacation?
I mean, even Aunt Flo made it a point to not
darken my doorstep until two days after I returned from sea.

Day 7 of a 9 Day Cruise

I ran low on metformin, thanks to the EFFing insurance company who wouldn't allow me to refill it a few days earlier. So I'm left to titrate down, just so I don't go completely cold turkey without it. Titrate down = from 2500 mg daily (the norm) to 1K mg daily (if that!). The moment we dock in Brooklyn, two days from now, I'll have to call the pharmacy from the boat and see if they'll refill it for me THAT DAY.

Today was the first day I felt like I was slightly spiralling down, mood wise, despite the sunshine and L*xapro. Don't know if it's exhaustion or something emotional/hormonal, but since I have run low of metformin, it's not too much of a stretch to think the mood shift is hormonal.

And thanks to having to titrate down, it'll take a week or two for me to recover from this mishap.

OY!~