Up she goes

Sorry for the unannounced absence. I've been busy coming to grips with the fact that my metabolism has slowed to a snail's pace. Did you know that some medications can do that? Me neither! So you can imagine my intrigue when I heard my doctor say to me in a cheerful voice: "You've put on some weight, my dear!"

"Really?" said I. "And why, may I ask, do you think that is? Seeing as I've been eating the same way I've always eaten and yet my jeans are beginning to fit like I've grown myself a second ass?"

"Well," said the cheerful doctor, "That's the unfortunate side effect of the medication you're taking."

"Oh," said I, with relief. "Well, that explains it, then. It's good to know that if I had actually eaten the cookies and cake and chocolate I've passed up over the past six months for the sake of my figure, I would look much worse. Thank God it's only ten pounds, because we all know how easy that is to lose. Whew! Also, thanks for not telling me this before I started taking the medication because I really hate being warned about such things. I'd much rather go to sleep one day looking like myself and wake up the next day looking like Rosie O'Donnell."

Once we (cheerfully) established the reason for the weight gain, she moved on to the rest of the physical exam. Taking a peek underneath my paper dress to look for suspicious moles, she felt the need to ask, "Have you ever tried a low-carb diet?" (This is the doctor's professionally polite way of saying, "Holy crap, do you have any butter for these rolls??")

"Yes," I said, with a smile. "In fact, I watch my carbs all the time. You fucking bitch."

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Okay, so those are things that I would've LIKED to have said. In actuality, I just sat there, hunched over in horror and shame. And then I cried all the way home. Just what I've always wanted! A slower metabolism than the one I've been fighting with for 39 years! Let me tell you, there is nothing better than hearing that it doesn't matter what you eat, you will continue to gain weight unless you decide to stop eating completely. Can you say "worst nightmare"? Can you say "SHOOT ME NOW"??

The good news is, Dr. Cheerful Yet Condemning feels that once I stop taking the medication, I will lose the weight. The bad news is, she doesn't recommend I stop taking the medication. The good news is, I talked her into letting me reduce the dosage. The bad news is, that might not be enough to do the trick. The good news is, if it doesn't work, I'm reducing it even more without telling Dr. CYC. The bad news is, she will not be happy with me at my next appointment. The good news is, I can blow off my next appointment to go to the gym because my acupuncturist gave me the go-ahead to do some light exercise (!!!!), which should also help with the dawdling metabolism issue. And all's well that ends well, right?

You see, what the little 90-pound doctor is just not getting is that pumping me up with medication that sabotages my efforts to keep my weight at a reasonable level is not the way to alleviate my anxiety and frequent bouts of crying in front of strangers. In fact, the discovery of a muffin top when I lay down on the bed and button my pants only increases the anxiety and the crying in front of strangers. How difficult can this be to understand? Maybe if I tie her to a chair and stuff some Twinkies down her throat, she will have an idea of what I'm talking about.

Mmm. Twinkies. Hostess really needs to come up with a low-carb version of those.