Fat and Finding Answers: Struggles with PCOD

Barely 2 months into my marriage, an over-interested aunty asks, “Good News?”

Listen woman, if I’m showing, I’d have to be atleast 4-5 months pregnant. That means I was pregnant before I got married. I’m not stupid. Shut up and run away as fast as your tiny legs take you before I whack you. Infuriating.

Another over interested aunty always looks at me and loves discussing my potential pregnancy. No aunty, no. If you’re so eager on children, go have your own, you old meanie.

I’ve always battled with weight. Battled with body image. Battled with myself.

I’m not saying that I’ve already won these battles, or that I’ve conquered my demons, but that I’m understanding what bus hit me.

All the women I’ve known in my whole life have terrible things to say about themselves.We wage this constant war on ourselves, exercise regimes, diets and god knows what all. I’m guilty of indulging in this a fair bit myself.

But then I discovered I landed up with a bit more than I had bargained for.

I had mild PCOD before I got pregnant with my son, but nothing prepared me for the assault on my body afterwards.

“Haan, toh? Even I have PCOD”, says S, ” no biggie babe! Just diet and exercise, and it all gets cured.”

“Cured???” You ignorant fool. Come deal with my reality and I’ll show you ‘cure’ . *slap*

According to popular opinion, PCOD gets better (cured if you ask that idiot), post pregnancy. Mine got worse.

I found myself obese and depressed.

What was heartbreaking were the visits from doctor to doctor. Someone gave me a medicine. Someone gave me a diet. No one gave me an answer.

So I got mine by trial and error.

I’m not the one to hide behind the curtain of PCOD and thyroid to explain why I’m still over weight. But I want to share the chaos it can cause in mind and body.

And I hope you make your dad, husband, brother, son, whatever, read this because it’s pertinent in so many women today.

So before I had ‘A’, I was pretty ok in the height-weight ratio. Felt good, looked good. But typical Indian bullshit of ‘thin is everything’. I was still called ‘plump’. %^%& you. Looking back at those pictures, I feel like crap that I listened to these idiots instead of enjoying the body I had.

After ‘A’, 16 kilos heavier. WOW. I hated mirrors. I still hate mirrors. (If you see the size of my bathroom mirror, you’ll know why I’m so afraid of them, brutal)

The hormones, the body hair(yikes), the mood swings, the crying. Doc says get hormone testing done.

WHAT THE HELL!!!! Am I morphing into a man??

I was constantly upset. And when we started trying to have another baby, bad move.

I was a mess. Spent my days and night crying in the bathroom. The agony!

“Beta, don’t you think you’re being a little ungrateful?” Nani asked. “People spend lifetimes trying to have even one child of their own, and you’re moping about not being able to have a second. Kids your age don’t even want a second child. What’s the problem?”

Count on her to shake me back to reality.

My family saw the struggle and told me nothing is worth my sanity.

And I stopped. For my sanity.

I’m being brutally honest about my entire journey because I know, thousands of women are going through this damn struggle everyday and fighting these battles alone.

Well guess what? You’re not alone. Instead of being so secretive, come out and speak. Did you even know there are PCOD support groups that help women cope?

So I’m not moping anymore.

I hired a personal trainer, started working out. I don’t want to end up with diabetes or heart disease. I did yoga. Cycled. I try to run(sometimes. fine once in 6 months, jesus).I curse and cry, but I push myself to workout. It’s my happy space now. Removes negativity, gets the happy hormones going, makes my skin feel better.

I diet occasionally, but I concentrate on trying to eat better. I’ve developed a taste for salads, beetroots, makhanas, and other healthy stuff I would’ve never imagined otherwise. I’ve added bran. And believe me it takes a hell of an effort to ‘develop’ tastes. My heart says Pizza and my head says roti. How I love food *drool* *sigh*

I struggle everyday. I don’t feel like working out all the time. I tire easily. I don’t lose weight easily, actually if it stays the same thats an achievement.

I’m reclaiming my life and body. It’s about deciding YOU want to be happy. It’s about deciding YOU want to be healthy. It’s about YOU deciding for YOU.

This is your struggle and your struggle alone.

You will always have the support of those you choose to open up to, but in the end it’s your decision.

It’s about being healthy in body AND mind. It’s about being body positive.

Push a little extra, try a little harder.

And for everyone who spots a little chubby woman, No, we are not pregnant. We don’t binge eat fries at 1am everyday. We make good decisions.But for now we are struggling.  Don’t snigger. Support.


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