Some people close to us are aware that Hubby and I have been trying over a year for Baby #2, without any luck. Last week, I was finally able to see a doctor to discuss my concerns, which he took seriously enough (thank goodness) to order tests. But after he had done that, he sat down with me and explained, “You know, it could be nothing more or less than your weight.” Oh. Yeah. That.

Look, I have never been thin. Even a hundred pounds ago, I thought I was fat. I have always thought that I am fat. I’ve talked about this before, how in the aftermath of losing my parents and struggling with my mental health, I ballooned up to 230 pounds in just a year. I got back down to 200, and then I got pregnant. After that, I figured, what’s the point in killing myself to lose the baby weight if I’m just going to get pregnant again in two years?

And there’s the rub: I’m not pregnant. I have been able to conceive. And it might be all my fault — well, my treacherous body’s fault, anyway.

So I took the doctor’s words to heart: I walked straight out of his office and into a new diet. I have to try, at the very least, or the medical community at large will never acquiesce to helping us have another baby, if it so happens that we need to try IVF or something like that in future. Friends of mine have had great success with the low-carb diet route. One of my close friends has been on the ketogenic diet and it gave her great results, so I decided to start there. Also, I have been on my share of diets in the past, but low-carb was never on the menu. I LOVE CARBS. I love bread, and pasta, and potatoes, and fried things, and you can take them away from me after prying my cold, dead fingers apart. BUT — eye on the prize. If I’m going to have better results, I need to try something different than anything I have ever done before.

I decided to start on a Friday, since I have heard the first few days of this transition can be hellacious. I didn’t want to be at work while going through literal withdrawal from carbs and sugar.

Day One: ALL THE CHEESE

I can totally do this. I can totally live on cheese and meat and cream and vegetables. Om nom nom!
By lunch I have run out of no-carb options in the house. This place is Carbohydrate Hell.

I resolve to go to the market as soon as possible and start scouring the web for every low-carb/no-carb food item that I will need.

Day Two: Espresso with Heavy Cream
Not a bad way to start the day, since I am already sick and tired of eggs. Not even the avocado on top can make them easier to choke down.

Went to the store and bought all the things the Internet said I would need for this diet. I am going to be very poor until I reach my goal.

Day Three: I Hate Eggs

I feel like death. I have no energy, I’m nauseated, and my brain is fuzzy. Today’s highlight was my friend, Steph, resident keto guru, coming over and cooking for me. She made a great soup with beef, cabbage, and mushrooms. Still, I have not felt satisfied by anything I’ve eaten in the past three days. I am not hungry. I feel pretty full actually, but, emotionally and mentally,  I feel empty.

Day Four: Food is for the Weak

I have transcended the need for physical sustenance. Coffee with heavy cream and water are all I need. All day, I have felt a physical aversion to all other (keto-friendly) foods that is reminiscent of my first few months of pregnancy. In the meantime, I stepped off an elevator today and caught a strong whiff of pizza (Sunway’s Flatizza to be exact). My reaction was akin to Edward Cullen’s psychopathy upon smelling Bella’s blood for the first time. That poor Sandwich Artist didn’t know what hit him.

Day Five:
I am too bitchy to come up with anything pithy to say about today. Today sucked.

Day Six: Naughty Rice

The world is not a friendly place for the no-carb syndicate. I didn’t have time to pack a lunch, so I had to go hunt for a keto-friendly option at the mall. I settled on a poke bowl, figuring that I could just toss the one dollar worth of rice at the bottom.

And so help me God, I tried, but that delicious white sushi rice called to me in a voice both forbidden and tantalizing — I couldn’t help myself!

I had a few bites and then I threw it out. And maybe I cried a little. Whatever. Don’t judge me!

Day Seven: Finally Feeling Human Again

After a full week of keto, I finally feel like I’m coming out from under the fog. My disposition has evened out some, and I don’t feel perpetually angry. Though I’m still a little salty over all the things I enjoy that I can’t eat right now. I see the results of ketosis, though not necessarily weight loss results. Of course, I haven’t weighed myself, but I do feel a little less bloated than I did a week ago, as if my body were a balloon that is slowly losing its air. I feel cautiously optimistic. Aside from the ill-begotten rice from yesterday, I haven’t slipped up — not EVEN when offered a free gourmet cupcake.

I have never been a successful dieter, but maybe that’s because I never had a reason to be: I’ve been healthy; low cholesterol, low blood pressure; all of these years, despite gaining a considerable amount of weight. I have body dysmorphia issues going way back — I’ve never been proud of the way I look. But gaining a hundred pounds over ten years has forced me to make my peace with that. I will never be thin. I will always be curvy. And clearly, no matter what size my jeans are, I’ll always feel fat. So I came to the conclusion that I had to love myself regardless. I had to love my fattiness. I’m still not the poster child for body-positivity, but I did a pretty decent job of cultivating that unconditional love for myself since M was born.

I’m proud of that achievement, and to my benefit, it has nothing to do with what I’m attempting now. I’m not trying to get thin. I’m not doing this to look or feel better — I looked and felt fine while I was eating carbs with every meal, thank you very much. No, I’m doing this to get my body in gear to host another life, to get my insides on board with my reproductive plan. That’s a very salient with specific goal for me to focus in on. And as anyone who knows me can attest to: I can be quite tenacious when pursuing my goals.

That being said, I’m also conceding some points relating to my health that I have long ignored: I have an unhealthily emotional relationship with food. I self-medicate frequently and with abandon. So that’s something I’m going to need to work on even after my end-goal is reached. I need to get on-top of my manic binge-eating. I need to make healthier choices and be a better role model for my daughter. I know all of these things, but they are not as easy to fix as my endocrinological system might be. At the end of the day, I’m still a work in progress. But hey, at least there is progress to be had.