I’m writing this to you from bed. I’m laying on my left side because in my experience, it’s easier to pass gas when I lay on my left side. Three weeks ago my doctor prescribed 2000 mgs of Metformin, a common treatment for women with PCOS. Metformin is more commonly known as a drug to treat insulin resistance in people with diabetes. I’m not diabetic. But, I do have insulin resistance.
PCOS is great fun.
You have to work up to the 2000 mgs. It takes time. Months even. This is because half of everyone who takes Metformin will have severe gastro-intestinal upset while their body adjusts to it. Lemme break this down for you: explosive, uncontrollable diarrhea. Guess which half I fall under.
I am currently up to 1500 mgs. It’s taken nearly a month for me to get up to that much. I’ve had excruciating, embarrassing diarrhea every single day for nearly a month. I have left my house three times in almost thirty days. I cannot leave my house for longer than a few hours because I have to be near a toilet.
I can’t sleep at night. The diarrhea and cramps don’t give a damn about my sleep schedule. My appetite is non-existent. For the last three days I haven’t eaten any food at all until nearly 8pm. I eat and then I take my Metformin pills again. And then wait.
I’m doing this for my health. I have to do this. I have to go through this hell so my body can properly process the foods I eat.
I didn’t do anything to deserve this. I didn’t wake up one morning and decide, “Hey, I’m just gonna eat cake and ice cream all the time.” and that’s why my body is this way. I HAD NO CONTROL OVER THIS HAPPENING TO MY BODY. It was written into my genetics while I was formed in my mother’s womb; she also had PCOS, which was left untreated and unmonitored for years and played a huge part in her diagnosis of Uterine Cancer and her death.
Yes, my mom is dead because of her genetics. Yes, I inherited those same genes.
My doctor also prescribed Medroxyprogesterone. It’s a progestin, designed to regulate hormones. It had been months since I’d had a normal period. This happens with PCOS. I once went six months without a period. It sounds like heaven, but it’s not. The uterine lining can build up and cause problems (like cancer). It’s not good. So, I had to take a pill for ten days to make me have a period.
When the period finally arrived it arrived in style. Massive blood clots. So much bleeding my doctor fears I’m anemic. Time for iron pills. More pills. Pills, pills, pills.
It’s been three weeks. I’m still bleeding. Last night I bled and had diarrhea so much I sat on my toilet for an hour, rocking back and forth, and crying. I’m in pain.
All for my health. All so I can be healthy.
And I log into Instagram and trolls tell me to kill myself because I’m fat. They say things like this:
And it goes on and on and on. Tip of the iceberg here. Most days I delete the troll comments. I have a lot of followers who struggle with their health and their bodies as well. I don’t want them to see that stuff.
But, I see it. It’s in my DM’s. It’s in my comments. It’s in my life.
I read these comments, delete them, block and report the account, and I do all of this from the toilet: bleeding profusely and having diarrhea so bad I literally can’t leave my own house…so I can be healthy.
And sometimes it gets to me. Sometimes the double standards, the bullshit of it all…sometimes it really, really gets to me. And I talk about it. I complain. I point out the double standards, the bullshit.
And then…I get messages like THIS:
While Metformin and Medroxyprogesterone reeked havoc on my body, I had to open my DM’s to find a message like this from another woman, yelling at me and accusing me of not caring about the health issues small women might face.
I’ve never once shunned thin women. I’ve never once thin-shamed them. As a matter of fact, I’ve written THIS:
I wrote that weeks before Maria’s message came in. Maria who had been following me for nearly a year. (If you’re going to accuse people of something, make sure you do your research.)
I’m tired, Maria. I’m tired of your Thin Fragility. I’m tired of people like you getting upset that Fat Women are standing up for themselves. I’m sick and tired of you getting your feelings hurt while I’m LITERALLY FIGHTING MY OWN GENETICS THAT ARE TRYING TO KILL ME THE WAY THEY KILLED MY MOTHER. I’m tired of reading hate comments that tell me I’m worthless and shouldn’t even be alive, and then getting messages from people like you implying I don’t know what I’m talking about and it’s actually ME who is judging others.
God…Maria, I’m usually so much more gracious than this, but screw you. No, no, really. Screw you. Screw your whole mentality. Screw your selfishness. Screw how self involved and oblivious you are. Screw your thin feelings and your thin privilege and your thin fragility.
If you’re reading this and you’re saying to yourself, “Yikes, she sounds angry.”, then you’re damn right, I’m angry. I’m angry and I’m in pain and I’m dehydrated and I’m anemic and I’m so tired and I just want to know what it feels like to walk outside and not automatically have strangers pick my entire life apart based on my appearance.
That’s all I want. And maybe one day people like me will have that life.
Until then, I’m lying in bed, crying as I type, because I just shat myself. In my bed. And then I realized I’d also bled through my tampon and the pad I was wearing. Onto my bed and sheets. Next to my partner. And for some reason they still love me. Even though I really don’t love myself right now.
I don’t have time for your thin fragility, Maria. I’m too busy trying not to die.