waiting to use the toilet with orlistat

Have you heard of Orlistat? If you haven’t, here’s a treat! If you have, poor you…

I haven’t updated my ‘Cysters Are Doing It For Themselves’ series for ages. This isn’t because I fell off the wagon, walking around with carbs and dairy dangling from every orifice, or chucked my gym shoes in the bin for being completely unhelpful in my bid for unfattydom (not a word, but I like it.) It’s partly down to laziness-I had big plans to type up recipes, and buoy up my fellow Cysters with tribal hollers of ‘we can fucking do this,’ whilst getting a hashtag trending, about empowering PCOS losers (in the weight loss capacity obvs,) to carry on the ‘fight’ and the ‘journey,’ and other empowerment buzzwords. But I lost impetus, and also went a bit batshit and needed a break from writing. It was also mainly because I had nothing much to add, as after the initial loss of 28lbs, there have been about three months where I’ve lost nothing.

Nada. Sweet FA. I’d tried moving the scales around the house, in the hope that one room would hold some voodoo power, and tell me I weighed less. I’d imagine weightlessness (jeez, the desperation,) when weighing myself, and try and lift all my bodyweight towards the ceiling. I even announced them to be ‘fucking faulty,’ and got myself weighed properly, only to have a tantrum of frustration to be told they were, in fact, correct.

So off I trot to the GP, to see if there is any straw clutching thing that can be done. And she prescribed Orlistat. If you don’t know what this is, it basically takes 1/3 of the fat you eat, liquefies it into fluorescent orange oil, and you crap it from your body. I know.

I sat there as she prescribed it, half devastated that this was the only option left to me (because my diet isn’t that fatty right?? I don’t need them, they’re pointless, right??) and half smug that I wouldn’t be shitting the contents of a room full of 80’s disco goers clothes, because my diet is so fucking good.

I tried to be optimistic. At best, the tablets would take whatever fat got through my diet barrier, and would help, at worst, I might get a slightly grumbly stomach (which happens if you aren’t eating enough fat, apparently.) It turns out that Orlistat doesn’t like salmon. It doesn’t like avocado. It doesn’t seem to like you cooking anything with olive oil. It waits like the omnipresent predator that is, and liquefies the tiniest bit of fat that happens upon its evil clutches, and evacuates if from your body before you can scream ‘SHART!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’

Every single meal became a silent prayer for my sphincter muscles to brace. I needed to stick a military training officer up there to scream at it to toughen the hell up. If I needed to go, I had to GO GO GO. And getting there in time was the easy part-imagine your entire south region then being covered with an oily lava, that just won’t for the love of GOD, come off. ‘Why are you in the shower again mummy??’ became the biggest FAQ of every day.

I’m actually happy with my diet as it is, and I feel pretty unwilling to cut out anything more (haven’t I already lost enough-cheese, I really fucking miss you. Never has anyone understood me more.)  If I cut out the remaining good fats from my diet, I’ll basically be living on nuts, raw vegetables, and despair. Imagine if I ate a McDonalds with these bastards??? I’d illuminate the whole of Bristol with fluorescent lava, in one tiny bum pump.

Enough, I’m not taking them (although interestingly, after the first five days, the scales did finally shift in the right direction by 3lbs.) But I already have to wear a pad for body combat, because of the likelihood I’ll roundhouse, punch, and piss myself. Double incontinence at 34 is not on my bucket list, I don’t have time for this (literal) shit. If I continue like this, you might as well check me into a care home, write my care plans for my double incontinence, and call me Mildred. Orlistat, it’s been a blast (from my ass at least,) but I don’t wish to form any long lasting partnership here. Off you trot back to Satan’s asshole, or wherever it was you came from.

 

 

(Twisting-what I am currently unable to do…)

Thanks for the song title, Elton John, that just about fits in with my PCOS series! Yes, this cyster, is currently unable to twist (well, go to the gym,) because of flipping back pain… I’ve had back pain on and off since I was a teenager-too much dance practice, and then a career in nursing, has meant that a few times a year, my back just says ‘um, no. F**k this, we will not let you stand up straight, you will  hobble around like a lady approaching 100, with extreme scoliosis, and you will have shooting nerve pains in your arse and legs that will make you feel sick-until I say otherwise.’ Which is usually for about 2 weeks, then off it trots again.

It’s been two weeks, and it’s only really marginally better. I’m not sure whether I’ll be able to make it to the gym next week or not. I’m making a massive deal of this issue, because I have only ever been able to shed weight, and maintain it, by exercising myself almost into oblivion. I’ve never been one of those people who can do it from good diet alone. So I’m massively pissed that this is hindering my weight loss, which was coming along much better than expected. It also makes looking after small, planky, tantrummy humans difficult too, but it’s the exercise I’m most bothered about.

I have lost 2lbs, taking the total up to 20lbs, but I really wanted to be well over 21lbs by now. I’ll just have to be patient, and wait until next week to see what happens. I also may have hindered myself a bit, by using alcohol for, erm, medicinal purposes a few times in the last 2 weeks of enforced resting. That’s another reason the gym is good for me-I find it really hard to train, if I’ve even had one drink the night before. Gone are the days where I could drink till the early hours, and still get up early and work out (the thought of that is making me dry heave,) so I need that extra incentive to avoid my relaxation and sanity juice.

I’ll leave it there, short and sweet, but I will add in that meal and recipe planner that I promised last time, sometime next week, for those who have messaged to ask for them!

Return of the carbs, come on,
Return of the carbs, OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What a tune that is, and now I’ll probably be singing it for the rest of the day!! Ok, I mentioned that I’d been away at the weekend, and had drank my body weight in vodka, and inhaled carbs like I was told potatoes had become extinct. Yep. I did that. The weekend started so well too-the first meal we ate at lunchtime, came with potatoes, but I just gave them to my husband. Then in the evening, I said I was going to stick to vodka with soda water and lemon/lime (the actual fruits, not the cordial.) But this was rank, so I took the sugar hit and had vodka with cranberry juice. By the end of the evening, I think I’d actually forgotten that I didn’t eat carbs anymore, and the Golden Arches beckoned…!

The next day on the train home, I also ate a massive sandwich, because no M&S train station mung bean salad was going to make me feel less pukey-it was carbs or nothing. Also, at the start of this, I did say that I didn’t want to become one of those people, you know, the ones who can lever let go, and are total diet bores. I hade a fecking awesome weekend, and it was worth every carb!

I did have a slight (actually, temporarily bone crushingly massive) disappointment, when I got home to find I’d gained 2lbs. It just goes to show that with insulin resistance, the effects of steering away from the diet, are quick and completely merciless.

But… I got right back on it the next day, and I have weighed myself, and the 2lbs have now sodded off, taking another 2 with them, taking my total up tooooo……… 18lbs NOW LOST!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Whoop for that! So the odd weekend of carbing it up, and bodyweight vodka drinking is actually ok (I suppose I should put some kind of disclaimer about responsible drinking in here? Well I didn’t , and I’m sure everyone needs a good shitfacing occasionally.)

I’ve discovered that I’m getting bloody fed up with cauliflower rice. I’ve been trying to eat more raw vegetables, and was trying a mixture of raw cauliflower, and raw broccoli. But although broccoli is one of my favourite vegetables when cooked, it’s actually just a bit bitter and overpowering, when raw. I’ve found that a mixture of savoy cabbage and spinach in the food processor, make the best the best rice alternative, occasionally with cauliflower mixed in, to mix it up a bit. I’m also aware that saying that makes me sound like one of those self righteous health freaks that I never thought I’d be, and like I have no life. The former isn’t true, although the latter may be…! Although this series is purely for people interested in weight loss, and to assure others that there are PCOS success stories out there, which if you google it-there are a serious lack of available.

I’ll write out a meal plan next week, I’ve still been modifying meals to make sure they contain no root veg, and also changed some other recipes I’ve been using, to make them a bit more interesting…!

So I’ll leave you with 18lbs lost, again, because even when I started this, I was sure I wouldn’t even lose 1lb. I was sure my body was screwed by hormones, metabolic syndrome, syndrome x, and all the other names that ‘impossible to lose weight’ falls under. It’s nice to not have to be resigned to being miserable anymore.

So this week has been a bit hard… Firstly, my children have been REALLY hard work-including the day I spend much of the afternoon at my GP surgery, being prodded around by several doctors, while the children swung from the curtains, attempted to destroy blood pressure monitors, emptied drawers, and generally made me want to die from shame. In fact, they’ve generally been like that all week, but at that time, I was really feeling the need to tell them in my best angry-but-trying-to-sound-kindly hiss, to just calm the heck down.

Anyway, as you may have guessed from the Drs visit, I haven’t been feeling too well this week. Despite that, I’ve still made it to Sh’bam, spin, HIIT, and body combat. But First, LET’S TALK ABOUT HIIT. My lovely friend convinced me to go along, ‘it’ll be great!’ she said, ‘there’s pair work, we can work together, it’s an amazing workout, better than circuits,’ she said. YOU WILL WANT TO THROW UP DURING THE WARM UP she DIDN’T say…. Jeez, I have given all the classes so far, a really fair shot, but I think it’s fair to say, I am 100% not going back to that. By the end of the next day, my legs were crippled, and I was still suffering the humiliation of being a hot and sweaty mess beside the rest of the class who were MACHINES, and feeling like I’d give myself a black eye from my gut flapping up to smack me in the face, during what felt like hours of ‘high knees.’

Food wise, I’ve stuck to all my usual meals pretty much the same as last week if you wanted to check out last week’s menu! But as well as being a bit under the weather, I’ve had one of those totally unmotivated weeks-you know-where you’re just a bit unmotivated with life in general? My appetite hasn’t been great, and I definitely feel like I’ve been running on empty-physically and emotionally. I was useless at combat today, and spent most of it kind of rolling around on the floor wishing I was at home (it was a very quiet class!) and it’s usually my favourite one.

(What I really wanted to be doing this week…)

I’m hoping I’ll have my mojo back a bit next week! So far, I’m not planning on making any changes to the food, although I might have to look at it again next week if I’m still at a plateau (because I haven’t lost anything this week,) but I have stayed the same, which is fine (I’m a bit disappointed, but trying not to be too hard on myself about it.)

lbs lost: Still 14…

What’s hurting: MY LEGS.

 

Update: Nearly a week after HIIT and my legs are still screwed!

*This is part of my ‘Cysters Are Doing It For Themselves’ series, about trying to kick some PCOS/insulin resistance ass. Other posts in this series can be found below.

PCOS Has Ruined My Life

A Change Is Gonna Come… Food And Exercise Changes I’m Making

Hey Cyster, Go Cyster, Soul Cyster, Go Cyster

Why Does PCOS Always Feel Like A Battlefield, A Battlefield, A Battlefield

Not So Fat Bottom Girl 

See you for next week’s update!

So, we all know that there was once a mum who lived in the south of England. We know that she was married to a Keifer Sutherland lookalike. We know that in her household, nobody ever listened to a fucking word she said, or ate anything she cooked. We know that she has PCOS, which she is currently trying to kick the crap out of its carb hating/insulin resistant ass. We know that she tries to do this by sometimes #shabammingtheshitoutoflife.

Well, today’s story finds her on her way to #bodycombattheshitoutoflife. Except she arrives at the gym to find she *dramatic gasp* hasn’t shaved her armpits…

She is faced with several choices:
1. Turn around and go home. There is no place for female body hair in the gym.

2. #bodycombattheshitoutoflife with her arms pinned to her side. (That would be well worth filming surely.)

3. #bodycombattheshitoutoflife at the back of the room, and hope she isn’t mistaken for a gorilla during any of the punching move busting.

She scratched her head, and thought: WWGGD. What Would Germaine Greer Do?

Well, she’d probably not be at the gym for a start. She wouldn’t give a shit who didn’t like her wobbly, insulin resistant ass-she’d change it for no fucker.

If she did go inside, the woman mused that Germaine would probably strip off to her bra and knickers, and march in there all pubes blazing, plaiting her leg and armpit hair as she went, while singing ‘cast off the shackles of yesterday’ as per Mrs Banks from Mary Poppins fame.

She’d probably use her bikini line hair to make a rope to gag anyone who passed comment on her hairy status.

She definitely wouldn’t wear any makeup, and definitely wouldn’t suffer the same the woman once had, of going to a spin class with last nights makeup on, and getting to the car to find most of the mascara residing just under her eyebrows, and salty sweat streaks running through her foundation.

But, as the woman was a disgrace to feminists everywhere, she chose to ignore #WWGGD What Would Germaine Greer Do? And she went home. Oh well, at least it saved the double whammy embarrassment of possibly letting out a bit of wee during a round house, plus being mistaken for a gorilla.

On her way home she was telephoned by the Keifer Sutherland lookalike.

“Guess what just happened?????” He said, sounding horrified.

“What dear, it sounds terrible,” she replied.

“A client just said ‘you remind me of someone. Someone famous,’ and I said (probably with a swaggy point and a wink) I know, is it Keifer Sutherland, I get it all the time (probably a smirk in there at this point) and she said ‘no, I was thinking of DONALD Sutherland-his father’…”

The bit of wee that didn’t get to come out at body combat, then escaped at that moment, during massive amounts of giggling and snorting that ensued…😂😂

The moral of the story? Invest in a cap sleeved gym t-shirt so that you can indulge yourself in never shaving your armpits while having the added benefit of not being mistaken for a gorilla while basking in your own hairiness. And also, that at a certain age, you will come to resemble the father of the celebrity you love that everyone mistakes you for, and it will be really bloody funny to your younger wife…!!