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Junior Member
Thread Starter
Join Date: Jan 2019
Posts: 1
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A Weary Wander Back In
So, I used to be someone else on here. Not really well known, and it was all the back around 2012. And I went from (approximately, though it might've been a lot more) 350 down into the 190s. Then my dad had a stroke, which brought him back into my life, but did not improve his temperament. And I went to graduate school in a different city (MSLIS, now on my PhD) which played merry havoc with my moods and ability to get the foods I was used to. I was doing 1200 calories. It was not plenty for me, despite what Reddit says.
I also discovered that losing weight made me hate my body more. Hello, gender dysphoria! Who knew that looking more like a woman would make me feel like such absolute crap? I mean, I sort of did--I started buying items at men's stores long before I got to the 190s--but man, was I not prepared for the intensity. Kind of confirmed what I thought, which is that, hey, actually a guy.
I tried meeting friends on OKCupid, because I'm terminally naive. Got sexually assaulted for my troubles. Didn't realize bringing a guy into my room to hang out would go that way. Didn't really love that attention.
Got an Ehlers-Danlos diagnosis a couple of years ago after my sister was diagnosed and said, hey, maybe get this checked out. I'd been feeling pretty crap for about five or so years, but that was normal for my mom's side of the family. She had hand arthritis in her early 30s. It explained a lot of why most exercise was outright painful/impossible for me. Even physical therapy told me to avoid some of the stuff I thought was safe, like the frog kick during the breaststroke.
These are a series of excuses, but they're real ones, and valid.
My lowest recorded weight was 192. Back in March, I started on testosterone therapy, and also saw a nutritionist. After about three weeks following her guidelines, I stepped on a scale. It said 450. I died a little inside. I mean, I've always been an overachiever (when I don't burn out), but this was ridiculous.
Followed her plan for about another month. Fell off the wagon hard then. I finally picked it back up in September. Not 1200 calories this time, but 1800 (officially; it ends up being between 1600 - 1700 most days in practice). I weighed in this morning at just under 385.
Everyone tells me to be proud of this ("65 pounds! That's incredible!"), but only if they know about it. And most don't, because at that size, 65 pounds isn't that dramatic. I've done the math (well--the nih calculator, at least; it's been pretty accurate so far). At my current weight, and including my increase in activity (which I can't guarantee, given the EDS; my freaking cartilage on my rib is inflamed from Nothing In Particular™, and it's making my swimming a pain), it's going to take two years to get to my goal weight.
Two. Years.
It's so tempting to cut even more calories, but with the testosterone, I don't think I can or should; I know I can't do 1200 long term, and I fear playing around with the balance will just utterly mess things up. But, like...this is really, really depressing.
I have friends who are also losing weight, as is my boyfriend. They have much shorter paths, coming from a lower starting weight, and I'm just so jealous. I feel lucky that the testosterone hasn't really increased my appetite, but has appeared to increase my metabolism/TDEE to male levels, but **** if it isn't frustrating.
And I wanted to rant here, because y'guys will probably understand better than, say, my friends.
One of my best friends says, sometimes, as a word of warning, a quote that I think's from Indiana Jones. "Don't get cocky, kid."
Really should have listened to that one.
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