Bye Bye Boobies
To anyone who's known and loved my (moderately) ample bosoms in the last seven months or so, it's time to say goodbye. I have lost the War of the Ring (more on this later) and that means it's time to bid my breasts farewell. Ta-ta, tits.
Seven months ago, after a long hiatus from the pill, I decided for a number of different reasons to go back on. I was pleasantly surprised when but four weeks later I had to upgrade to a bigger cup size and suddenly I had something that looked a lot like cleavage. I was less pleasantly surprised when four weeks after THAT, I stepped on a scale and realized I had gained TEN POUNDS despite no changes to my diet or exercise routine. My mom was always very sensitive to the pill, as I have been, but I figured there had to be new alternatives on the market for rapidly-expanding chicks who don't want to get knocked up.
Panicked, I searched for a different form of birth control that would leave me childless and slimmer, but would not do anything to displace my new "twins." I switched to the Nuvaring. My doctor friend K. PROMISED me I wouldn't get any fatter AND said I could keep the funbags.
She lied, that bitch. I DID get fatter and pretty soon I was bumping up against my heaviest weight ever. My pants no longer fit. Climbing was a terrible struggle. But worst of all, I did things like complain in public (or on my blog!) about how fat I was. I was disgusting myself, both in my physical appearance AND my actions.
Something had to be done. So I went back to doing marathon levels of cardio every week -- four or five hours. Plus, two hours of weights a week, plus about six hours of climbing a week. It took up a lot of time. It was hard. Many times, it was boring. And it wasn't working.
So I went on a diet. I counted calories. I ate shrimp cocktail for dinner after spending 90 minutes on a treadmill, when I was so hungry I had to ward off the intense urge to barbecue the neighbor's dog, slather it in brown mustard, and chow down. I STOPPED DRINKING BEER for fuck's sake.
After four weeks of that, I lost one pound. This is a mathematical impossibility if you calculate the number of calories I burned and the number of calories I consumed.
And so, it is time to bid adieu to the Nuvaring and all its hormonally-fattening side effects. I refuse to be 15 pounds overweight just to avoid the use of condoms (which I loathe) in the rare case that I hook up with an old inappropriate boyfriend or STD-free friend who has mercy on me when I'm drunk and lonely.
I'll climb better, I'll look better, I'll feel better, and I'll stop talking about lame shit like how fat I am. Plus, maybe I can go back to drinking beer again. I'll miss the boobs, God knows I will, but it's time to get out of the sweatpants. They just don't do the cleavage justice.
Oh, and to all the ladies who will no doubt google this very phrase: "Yes, Nuvaring makes you fat."
Seven months ago, after a long hiatus from the pill, I decided for a number of different reasons to go back on. I was pleasantly surprised when but four weeks later I had to upgrade to a bigger cup size and suddenly I had something that looked a lot like cleavage. I was less pleasantly surprised when four weeks after THAT, I stepped on a scale and realized I had gained TEN POUNDS despite no changes to my diet or exercise routine. My mom was always very sensitive to the pill, as I have been, but I figured there had to be new alternatives on the market for rapidly-expanding chicks who don't want to get knocked up.
Panicked, I searched for a different form of birth control that would leave me childless and slimmer, but would not do anything to displace my new "twins." I switched to the Nuvaring. My doctor friend K. PROMISED me I wouldn't get any fatter AND said I could keep the funbags.
She lied, that bitch. I DID get fatter and pretty soon I was bumping up against my heaviest weight ever. My pants no longer fit. Climbing was a terrible struggle. But worst of all, I did things like complain in public (or on my blog!) about how fat I was. I was disgusting myself, both in my physical appearance AND my actions.
Something had to be done. So I went back to doing marathon levels of cardio every week -- four or five hours. Plus, two hours of weights a week, plus about six hours of climbing a week. It took up a lot of time. It was hard. Many times, it was boring. And it wasn't working.
So I went on a diet. I counted calories. I ate shrimp cocktail for dinner after spending 90 minutes on a treadmill, when I was so hungry I had to ward off the intense urge to barbecue the neighbor's dog, slather it in brown mustard, and chow down. I STOPPED DRINKING BEER for fuck's sake.
After four weeks of that, I lost one pound. This is a mathematical impossibility if you calculate the number of calories I burned and the number of calories I consumed.
And so, it is time to bid adieu to the Nuvaring and all its hormonally-fattening side effects. I refuse to be 15 pounds overweight just to avoid the use of condoms (which I loathe) in the rare case that I hook up with an old inappropriate boyfriend or STD-free friend who has mercy on me when I'm drunk and lonely.
I'll climb better, I'll look better, I'll feel better, and I'll stop talking about lame shit like how fat I am. Plus, maybe I can go back to drinking beer again. I'll miss the boobs, God knows I will, but it's time to get out of the sweatpants. They just don't do the cleavage justice.
Oh, and to all the ladies who will no doubt google this very phrase: "Yes, Nuvaring makes you fat."
posted by Had To Move at 3:46 PM
1 Comments:
I usually weigh about 140lbs, but when the discontinued my usual pill (Mircette) I was pursuaded to try "the ring." About a month later I decided to get on the scale because my pants no longer fit and I felt like I weighed about 150lbs (I know this feeling, I've been there before). I got on the scale to discover that I weighed 142lbs...yes I was so bloated from the constant dose of hormones to my nether regions that my pants fit like I was 10lbs heavier. Grrr....
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