16 down, 14 to go

The PCOS caused me to gain around 20 lbs. (or so–it might have been more) last year. Despite exercising regularly, I couldn’t lose it.

I decided to go on the Weight Watchers program about two months ago. I had heard amazing things about it, and some of my family members have used the program with great success. I didn’t sign up for the meetings because I don’t have the time, and, frankly, they’re really expensive. So, I used the online functions to track my eating habits.

I started cutting back and stayed at or under my allotted points, and low and behold, I lost 2 pounds the first week. And then another two the next week. And then 3 more. And then another, and another, and another. And, two months later, I’ve lost 16 pounds.

16 pounds!

I feel amazing. My old clothes don’t fit anymore, and even my “skinny clothes” (pre-PCOS clothes) are starting to get baggy. My goal is still another 14 pounds away, and, if I’m feeling ambitious, I may even go for another 10 after that, but I would be pleased as can be if I can get back to 145 lbs. That will put my squarely in the healthy weight range for my height (120-150 lbs. for 5′5″). I may be shorter, but I am bustier, so getting back to 135 lbs. (what I was when I graduated from high school) would probably be a bit on the unrealistic side. And staying realistic is what has helped me to get to this point.

This also means I’m more than halfway to my goal.

Another (happy) dilemma–I need to find a dress for an upcoming wedding! This is where I’m going to debut my new body. Well, it’s a work in progress, but that’s OK–aren’t we all?

And with my heart palpitations, losing weight was recommended. I know it’s been easier on my heart, and the rest of my body. My cardiologist was/is so proud of me when I saw her back in October. And I’m proud of me, too.

Commission Me In

I’m considering trying for a position on our new (to us) city’s Arts and Cultural Commission. A coworker (and fast-becoming friend), who is a city councilwoman for said town, said I should, as I have “extensive” experience in the arts, and I have a vested interest in this town, as I’m living here and plan on living here for at least a few years. I put quotation marks around the word extensive in the previous sentence because I have a hard time believing that a 24-year-old can have extensive experience in anything.

Truth be told, I was played the saxophone for something like 12 years (and would love to pick it up again), I was in theater in high school and continue to take an interest in theater (or theatre, which is the one I prefer but CMS does not), I have created art (in h.s. and college–I like to “play in clay”), I have helped publish three literary arts magazines, and I support the arts in any way I can. And, oh, yeah, I am an editor for a nonprofit book publisher. (Funny how I still forget that last one until the end, eh? I’m still getting used to the idea…and the reality.)

Does that qualify as extensive? I dunno.

I’m torn, as I still would like to move home eventually (ah, home–the blasted cold state of Minnesota), but this city has a certain charm to it that I cannot deny. It’s sassy and fun and up-and-coming.

I’m also starting to love Detroit…a lot. I’ve been to the Detroit Opera House, the Fisher Building, Belle Isle, the Guardian Building, Atlas Global Bistro, the Charles H. Wright Museum of African American History, Union Street Saloon, the Compuware World Headquarters, Zaccaro’s Market, the DIA, Slow’s Bar BQ, the MOCAD, and many others (during a fabulous personal tour arranged by Preservation Wayne [another group I'm considering getting involved with, if they'll have me]), and I have loved every single one.

Now, I don’t want to sound overly involved because I honestly haven’t been for the past three years–since we moved to MI. I’ve felt disconnected and aloof, but getting to know the lovely friend that I have has made me reconsider this cold shoulder I’m giving the world right now.

I guess I would feel guilty ditching Detroit and the surrounding area before seriously giving it a try, especially with the current economic climate. Everyone seems to be running away with their tail (and money) firmly planted between their legs. There is so much to see and so much to do, and there is a great deal of life in this ol’ city. We left Atlanta before getting to know it, and I’ll be honest–there is no love loss there. I never felt at home there. Not at all, actually. This lil’ city, though, has taken me in, and I feel like I should give something back.

And if I can do that by sitting on a board with a bunch of other like-minded individuals and bring some more art to this community, I think that might be time well-spent. And it’s a two-year appointment, so I have to be willing to hang around for a while. That sort of commitment freaks me out. I’ve been such a commitment-phobe for the past three years. Maybe it’s time to get back to my roots–being an over-achieving looney who doesn’t know when to say “no.” I am happiest when I’m so busy I can’t think straight.

I’m Dreaming of a Green Christmas

My older sis and I decided this summer that we were going to do a “green” Christmas. We are purchasing gifts that are made in the USA, are organic, are used, or are handmade (even by us). We also decided that if we came across something that we know the person we’re buying for needs, we can break the rules just a smidge to get them that necessity.

I started off by purchasing a few used books for my niece (Fraggle Rock) and for my little sister and her husband (vegetarian cookbooks) from the Canton Public Library’s Secondhand Prose bookstore.

I purchased something useful for my brother-in-law, Reid: woodworking tools and patterns. Though only a few things are made in the USA, these are things he will be able to use in the future for his woodworking hobby.

The hubby and I purchased spinners, a double shepherd’s hook, and a napkin holder from a Hudderite colony in southern Minnesota. I can talk about these because we weren’t willing to drag them all the way back to Michigan, so the family got them while we were there.

Now we get to the fun part. I went shopping on Etsy, and I was able to score the following awesome stuff:

For my nephew and niece.

For my little sister.

For my brother-in-law (the lil sis’s man).

For my friend, Brooke.

For our friend, Trevor.

And even though my older sister reads my blog, I love this so much, I have to show it off. So, Rachel, don’t click on this link! For my darling older sister.

And this, this is for me (fifth picture down, Autumn Floral). For my new business cards. I have actual business cards for my work. Wow. I think I have a real job. Crazy.

I am making a scarf for my goddaughter, Emily (I have two Emilies in my life–two different spellings and two very different and lovely girls), and I am purchasing something useful for my husband. He reads this blog occasionally, so I won’t say anything more about that.

I’m going to upcycle old cards for my Christmas correspondence, or I will be using recycled paper and envelopes for a Christmas letter. I haven’t decided which yet.

I will also be making the gift bags for each present. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make all of them in time for my family’s presents, but I’ll definitely be making them for the hubby’s side of the family.

I don’t want this post to sound all preachy, but this is something we chose together. I just thought I would share what we were up to.

Escape

So, I’ve discovered the secret to working at home success. You want to know what it is?

Don’t work at home.

Well, that’s the secret to my working at home success. I’ve been taking refuge in the local Biggby Coffee (formerly known as Beaner’s [that's what it was in Duluth--and still is, now that I think of it; must have purchased the name or something]) the last couple of days. I’ve gotten a ton of work done, and it’s been pure bliss.

I just can’t look at all those empty (or half-full) boxes that should be full. I can’t look at my bookshelves that, after this morning’s packing, are nearly empty, knowing I should be packing more stuff just like I did my beloved books. With the move so close–less than a month away–and no lease in place at a new place, I’m stressed to the max. I escape to the land of getting rid of chiggers, wasps, silverfish, bees, and other assorted creepy-crawly things. I’ll be working on my master’s project during my next retreat. Money won out this weekend.

Confession

This is going to be a tough post to write for me. So, why am I writing it? Because it might help some women. Talking about it has already helped at least one woman, and I think it’s better to talk about it than keep it quiet. My life is an open book, anyway. Why should this be different?

Intrigued, aren’t you?

I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS) on July 17th, 2008. I had an inkling that I had PCOS; there are other women with PCOS in my family, and though doctors have not officially made the genetic connection, they have noticed that women who are diagnosed with it usually have a sister or mother or aunt, etc. with PCOS, as well.

What is PCOS? I can’t really describe it very well, so check out a definition here. My symptoms were pretty simple: No menstrual cycle, my hair started to thin, I had terrible acne on both my shoulders and face (and I have always had beautiful skin, even throughout puberty), and I gained 20 pounds, all around my midsection. Rocks to be me.

After talking to my OB/GYN, he ran a few blood tests and deemed me PCOS-free. He told me to wait it out. I had been off of birth control since January, and this was June. He thought that my body was taking its time to adjust. I thought otherwise.

A month later, after much discussion with the hubby and friend and family, I decided to take the plunge and set up an appointment with a Reproductive Endocrinologist (RE). I researched local ones, and found a female RE (I love male doctors, but there’s something about a male RE that just doesn’t work for me) with a specialization in PCOS.

The hubby went with me to the appointment, and even though the damn thing was two and a half hours long, it was worth it. Even though she didn’t want to label me PCOS, the similarities were too great to ignore. She started me on Metformin XR (Met), which is a diabetes medication. It treats the insulin resistance (IR) associated with PCOS, and I have all the symptoms of IR. She then ran more bloodwork after forcing a cycle (not fun, by the way; the modd swings are enough to make a lesser man fun…thank goodness I married a man of steel), and though it came back normal, she still believes I have PCOS.

PCOS is a tricky duck–even if your bloodwork doesn’t show anything abnormal, you could still have it. You could have the cysts on your ovaries, but if you don’t have an ultrasound, you can’t tell. Or you could have the ultrasound done at the wrong time, and you won’t see them. Or you might never see the extra cysts on your ovaries and still have PCOS. It’s just too hard to diagnose, so many OB/GYNs don’t even try. Or they don’t know about it.

But here’s the thing: 1 in 10 women of childbearing age have PCOS. 1 in 10!! Think about that. Many of them just don’t recognize the symptoms. And birth control is the main way to treat PCOS, so many women don’t realize they have it until after they go off birth control.

So, here’s the part I’ve been avoiding talking about, but I know someone is going to ask about it, so I might as well put it out there right now and avoid any confusion.

The hubby and I have been trying to get pregnant for ten months now. I’m 23. He’s 26. We’re both in good health (with the exception of the heart stuff, I’m fit as a fiddle, with the exception of those 20 extra pounds I packed on and can’t lose from the PCOS), and our families have no history of having problems conceiving (even the family members with PCOS in my family haven’t had that much trouble). So, when no pregnancy test said, “Yay! You’re preggo!” after so many months, we knew something was up, even beyond all my symptoms.

This has been a heart-wrenching year for me so far because of this. Everything else in my life seems to be going just peachy, but this is one part that just cannot line up. Even after nearly 3 months on the Met, we can’t get pregnant. I have one regular cycle last month, but now I’m almost two weeks late, and there is no baby on the way (according to three pregnancy tests; they were taken well spaced out, so don’t think I’m psycho, please). And my hair is still thinning. It’s getting to the point where I’m noticing it without looking hard, though, thankfully, I was blessed with thick hair normally, so it’s still not noticeable by anyone other than myself. And I can’t lose the weight. That’s frustrating, considering I eat pretty well and I work out 2-3 times each week. But the acne has let up. At least something is going right.

I promise this blog won’t become a pity party, but I would really like to write about it. I’ve been avoiding it because it’s a sensitive issue with me, and I feel like I would be judged. Given my normal attitude of “I don’t care what other people think,” this is seriously out of character for me.

So, now I’m liberating myself by writing it in this incredibly public place. Because I hope other women will read it and say, “Hey, that’s what’s up with me. Maybe I should get this checked out.” Or, “I’m not a freak at all! Someone else is going through this, too!”

You all are welcome to leave comments on this. Or not. It’s completely up to you. Thanks for listening/reading. It was something I needed to get off my chest.

We had the fire department check our condo for explosive gas tonight because our carbon monoxide/explosive gas detector kept going off (there was none, but this was the second time in two weeks, and we were tired of having the association tell us not to call the fire department because they would rather have the place blow up than pay a fee to have the fire department come out and make sure we’re safe, and after the second time, we were seriously starting to worry). How has your evening been?

How I spent July 16th (from 11 PM-1 AM)

This is the first time since we moved to MI over two years ago that the power went out. It was out for two hours. Just so you know, it’s eerily quiet here when there’s no power. And dark. Spooky….

Thankfully, I was raised in rural MN, where the power goes out constantly, so I knew exactly where the flashlight was and where the matches were and where the candles were located. Modern technology (a.k.a. my laptop) kept me entertained with “Scrubs,” and all was well. I would have read, but damn, it’s hard to read by candlelight, and my eyes are bad enough already.

My life is thrilling, I know.

Wedding season is bearing down upon me like…I dunno…like a bridezilla whose cake order has been screwed up?

Bad analogy, but you get the point. We have two weddings this year–one at the beginning of August (little sister) and one at the mid-end of September (hubby’s best friend). I’m the matron of honor, and the hubby is a groomsman. Then, in January, the hubby’s other best friend is getting married. Wedding no. 1 and 2 are in MN, and no. 3 is in SD. And we live in MI. You can do the mileage math.

Thank goodness for Amtrak.

As much as we love our family and friends, couldn’t you all just have waited one more year to get married? Not that one year will guarantee we’ll be any closer, but at least we could put off all this traveling until then. Or y’all could have spread them out more. Or something?!

Don’t get me wrong; I have no problem traveling great distances to reach family and friends, and we’d do anything for our loved ones, but seriously, three in 6 months? Oy.

Riddle me this:

How is it that someone as talented as Joss Whedon doesn’t have a show on TV right now, besides those that are in reruns?

Just isn’t right.

I’ve just joined the rat race known as job hunting. Had one work sample/screening interview. We’ll see if I get a bite off of the other four applications I have out there.

I’ll be honest–I’m not holding out much hope. With the economy the way it is here, the job market is flooded with highly-qualified, experienced individuals, but I hope my skill set is marketable on some level. We’ll see.