So- today I get a message from my ex. The ex had been to the Dr. The ex informs me that 6 mo ago he weighed 149, three months later he weighed 135 and today he weighed 129. Oh yea- and BTW- his primary Dr is CONCERNED....... about his sudden drop in weight. I called and when he answers (a miracle in and of itself) I told him I hated him, that I wasn't going to speak to him ever again and hung up. Or rather, I told him the first two and stayed on the line-(guess I'm just really a masochist). He began whining that it wasn't his fault that I was pissed off and that I shouldn't take it out on him. I told him I KNEW DAMN WELL it wasn't his fault and that I was just jealous that all he had to do to lose weight was go to the VA and get his antidepressant meds changed. (apparently zoloft should be used with caution with people who have issues regarding weight loss..not that my ex ever had issues with weight loss- he was always of slender build- and now apparently he's getting even more skinny due to the zoloft) ME- I fight a losing battle with Drs for over 20 years trying to find out why my monthly friend shows up once a year, my hair is falling out, I grow a better mustache than most guys I know and I get- "you need to watch your weight and exercise more". Hey Doc! I scream -I watch my weight every fucking day on the scale and it just keeps going up!!!!! And exercise- I should get a pedometer and show them how much freaking walking I do every week at work!!!!
What really pisses me off about the whole thing is two weeks before he packed his shit and left to go live with the slut he was seeing behind my back- was that he wanted to make sure I was taking care of my health!!!- And wait-- it gets better-- he was not abandoning me- and that he would be there to help me get better. ( I had finally been diagnosed with Poly-cystic ovarian syndrome, and insulin resistance, a condition for which there is no cure- only symptomatic treatment, unless you are really into the idea of trying to get pregnant- which at 40 was not on my top ten list of things to do in my life.) So like a dumb ass- I give him the benefit of the doubt- help him move- because maybe we can be friends ,(yeah- I know- never works) research dietary stuff for PCOS and Insulin resistance and wait. And wait. And wait. Nope- he's too busy wallowing in his new independence- poverty- and depression (guess things with the slut didn't work out when she found out just how meagre his disability check was.) So not having the slut in his life anymore- he thinks he can make things work with me again. Not so fast bub- I trusted you once- you screwed me over and I'm just supposed to forget? Not in this millennium.
So at the end of last year I made the painful decision to cancel my health insurance, and make use of my own veterans benefits- namely health care because it was less expensive- (Thanks US congress for fucking up the economy for the next millennium)-and realize that I'm going to have to start the fight all over again with a new Dr who I will probably see only 2 times before they leave for a better paycheck and I get assigned a new Dr- who can't or won't read my records and will want to start all over again with new tests ( which means more trips to a phlebotomist who can't draw blood from me without me drawing my fist to within an inch of their face because they screwed up and didn't hit the vein the first time) for a couple of visits over the course of a year in which time they will leave for a better paycheck which means I get assigned a new Dr who won't read the records -etc and so on. Which means the fight goes on.....or I just say fuck it and accept the fact that I am doomed to be a fat bitch who can't get a date on Friday night.
So back to the phone conversation that initiated this rant- he asks me what I would like for food tomorrow- and said that he adored me-I told him I would call him back. I do remember telling him a long time ago when the diagnosis was new and I was really going to make an effort to run my life around my illness- that all carbs had to be "good" high fiber carbs and that meant no more processed flour, only fresh veggies and lots of lean protein- preferably fish, and some real exercise. Oh yeah- he was all for that- if his back wasn't killing him every fucking day.
So- I said goodbye and went back to work and threw stuff around in the pit which calmed me down long enough to finish the shift and head to the bar- (I know- beer doesn't qualify as a good carb...)
So my mission tomorrow- or rather later today is to begin cleaning this shit hole I call a home and remove every bit of edible foodstuff from the premises. If drugs, exercise and watching my weight won't work- maybe just not eating anything will.
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