Does metformin make you delusional?

Seriously...I need to know.

So here's the background. After falling off the met wagon about a month ago, I decided that darn it, it CAN help you get rid of this entire other person that you're hauling around, so take it already! I'm up to 1500 mgs at this point, which is even better than I used to do during the infertility days. I've been paying for my rather rapid ramp, but I'm almost through the woods on that, so I just need to suck it up a couple of more days. I'm ultimately supposed to hit 2000mgs of the stuff, which I hope to be able to handle in a couple of weeks.

OK, so the delusional part. Granted, I've been hitting the treadmill on a very regular basis in the mornings, and have even added in some upper body work (treadmill push ups, but hey, its something). I've been upping the pace from where I started at a paltry 2.6 MPH to almost 3.2 MPH to keep my heart rate up. I've been eating better. Yes, I did indulge in "helping" the kids out with their substantial Halloween haul, but since Husband put it up so high in the cabinets that I need a chair to retrieve it (damn all 6'3" of him), I've been laying off. Seriously, having to exert physical effort to steal Halloween candy from your kids? Pathetic.

ANYWAY, the point is that I pulled out a pair of pants this morning that have been a bit snug for the past year or so, and viola! they fit great. They aren't quite where they should be to fit perfectly, but I'm no longer praying to the gods of thread strength that they hold together. I'm comfortable in them. Hooray!

The irrational part is that I refuse to get on the scale to see if this is just a matter of toning, or whether I have actually lost some weight. I'm down a cup size on my bras as well, but that could be attributed primarily to the fact that for the first time in four plus years I'm not pregnant or nursing. The last time we nursed was late June-while I still have an occasional drip once in a while, it is pretty much all gone. The scale is an object of scorn and desire all at once. I could get on it and have the highlight of my day; or, I could get on it and feel like a complete failure, even with the pants victory. And then I would do something to completely sabatoge myself. I've been through the cycle enough to know exactly what I'll do. Sad, but true.

I'm in a good rhythm now, and I think that I'm going to stay there. Maybe I'll check once these pants start getting a little loose. Yeah, that's it.......

Another weekend down-it's Sunday night and far too late, but this is the first time that I've stopped and just sat. Seriously. I busted it to get laundry done so we could make it (with clean clothes) to a late afternoon wedding on Saturday. We were 15 minutes late, despite a bunch of good efforts. We took the kids, since the groom is their godfather. I hear that Husband had a good time-I spent it all chasing BabyA. No easy task in spike heels at a semi-outdoor venue. Son was sooo good-I was so proud of him. It was a small wedding-50 guests, tops-and the bride and groom have six kids between them, so no one batted an eye when BabyA was being a two year old. Good thing for her that she's so darn cute.

Husband woke up pissy this morning, yelled at me for taking his least favorite dog in the Caddie (my Jeep was still at work since Husband picked me up on Friday), and was a general asshole for most if not all of the day. I don't think that we said more than a few sentences to each other. I don't know what his problem was. I told him that I was going on a walk-the kids weren't up yet, and the weather was really nice, and the dog and I could use some outside time. Apparently, Husband thought that I was just going to go up and down our street. Let's see, I've been spending at least half an hour almost every day all week for a while now. Why would I go up and down the street for fifteen minutes? He was also kind enough to inform me that the Caddie was HIS car, and how dare I...blah blah blah.

Hmmmm-seems like I made the majority of the car payments on that thing. Oh, and you have the new, nice car that I'm not ALLOWED to drive. Two words for you: Fuck and You.

He went on and on about the woman that was the date of one of the men that was at our table at the wedding. Yes, she was beautiful. Yes, she seemed like a genuinely nice person. I stuffed myself into three inch spikes, spent $300 on the new outfit, and he didn't say a fucking word. I had felt pretty good in the dressing room. Right now I just want to tear it to shreds.

He went to bed without me. Turned off the light and the TV. He never thinks to leave out PJs or anything for me, so I'll get to search around in the dark or improvise. I don't even want to go to bed, don't even want to share the same space, since it feels like he thinks that I'm not doing anything but taking it up. I'm so tired of feeling stupid and not good enough and tip toeing around my own house.

I know that we need to talk about it, maybe actually be together. Last night, I found myself thinking over and over that I wished that we could just be grown-ups and enjoy the night, not with Husband working the room and me chasing down two kids and ending up with the kids meal smeared on my sweater.

I'm frustrated, I'm tired, and desperately trying to make sure that I steel myself against having a huge letdown when he blows my birthday this week. I should be better at this than I am. I don't have the time to dig in either, which adds this almost frantic edge to my anxiety. I'm interviewing seven people for the position that I'm hiring for. My boss and the rest of the department is in all week. Early, early mornings, and later nights. I should be reading resumes and going to bed. Blech.

Things you never wanted to hear

Today I got to spend some time with my favorite endocrinologist, Dr. M. Dr. M and I would probably be great friends if she weren't, you know, my doctor. Same sense of humor, her kids and mine are spaced about the same, and are ab0ut the same age, etc. etc. Her one downfall, which I mentioned to her nurse, was that it is a little tough to talk about weight issues with a doctor that I could literally bench press. Yes, she's that tiny.

Anyway, I swallowed my trepidation and made an appointment yesterday. I got lucky in that she had a cancellation for this morning, so off I went. My sugars and everything are fine, but since I changed from the mini pill to a full blown birth control, my weight has continued to climb, and despite my best efforts and visits to my beloved treadmill (no, seriously, I do love it) at ungodly hours in the morning, nothing has improved. I'm frustrated, to the point of tears. I'm sick of this.

So, I asked, against all of my better judgement, for Metformin.

Yes, this is the same evil stuff that I suffered with during my infertility days. I hate the stuff, at least when I'm amping up the dosage, but in the past it has made a difference in managing my weight, almost to the point of me not even trying. I'm at the point where I'm willing to pull out all the stops. I'm hoping that it is a step in the right direction. Now, I want to be clear here-I don't expect this to be some miracle cure. I know that I still have to be vigilant about what I'm eating, I need to keep my early morning appointments with said treadmill or Wii. I know that. But if my body is going to fight me on this, like it has on just about everything else, I want all of the tools in the arsenal. I've played this video game long enough to have amassed all of the weapons.

She wrote me the prescription, and then pushed back from her desk and gave me a look that made me know that she wanted to talk about something. She offered up the option that even if I am doing everything right, I follow the rules and things still don't change, that I may want to consider gastric bypass. Insert longish pause. I didn't know what to say. She quickly followed up that it does not mean that I have failed-its just trading one disease, obesity, for another, malabsorption. One that could ultimately kill me, for another that will inconvenience me, but let me not to have to see her on a regular basis. I never thought that I would be in the position, allow myself to be in the position, of even having this put on the table.

I asked her under what circumstances she would advocate me really thinking about this. Basically, whenever I want to. However, I need to give everything else an honest effort for six months, and then we see where we are.

I don't know what to say. I don't know what to think. I'm in such a state that I can't even cry, although I know that its lurking there. How did it all go so wrong?