Originally Posted by bulkaholic

Hi Sarah,

Is that right you are worried about a size 8 pair of trousers being tight

I'm female (looks like the only female by all accounts) - we worry about things like that. Look, I'll level with you, mate. I have a condition known as PCOS (poly-cystic ovarian syndrome) the symptoms of which are as follows: -

• irregular periods or lack of periods
• irregular ovulation or no ovulation
• reduced fertility; difficulty in becoming pregnant
• recurrent miscarriages
• unwanted facial and or body hair (hirsutism)
• oily skin, acne
• being overweight, rapid weight gain; difficulty in losing weight

It is the last one that terrifies me the most (though I don't relish looking like Brian Blessed much, either, I can keep the beard at bay relatively effectively (though I am saving for a Phillips arcitec - yes, it's a bloke's shaver, but PCOS gives you bloke's facial hair).

So terrified am I of putting the weight back on that it keeps me awake at night (or, if it doesn't, then I dream about it. When I was at school, and even into adulthood, I was known as Jabba for reasons which, I hope, are patently obvious).

My weight peaked at 23st in the summer of '04. I am not tall (5'6") so you can imagine my BMI. My ever-so-sympathetic GP refused to test me for PCOS (until I practically throttled him) and, even when the test proved positive, he refused to acknowledge that I had it. PCOS is (and I quote) "a condition dreamt up by obese women as an excuse to stay fat". Nice, huh...?)

I came here for a reason. I came here because I want to perfect myself. I want to look good. I do not work (nor shall I ever be capable of working) I have no friends in this deity forsaken town. This is my one solitary focus; I guess you could say that I'm trying to run as far away from the old me as possible (well, it's not difficult, she can barely walk, let alone run). I have no life, so I am trying to find one (and, yes, I've checked down the back of the sofa, it's not there. Nor is it under the stairs, at the back of the wardrobe or in the shed). For the 60/90 minutes I'm exercising, I feel good (and I don't care if that's 'cause of the ECA, I feel good). I can just stick my DAB/iPod on and forget about everything/one that's caused/is causing me pain. Yeah, it might it me like a tsunami when the ECA wears off but, I don't care - I can deal with that (just!)

Yes, I know I'm ****ed up - you don't need to tell me that, but I am addicted to becoming the best (physical) me I can possibly be; take this away from me and I have nothing. I have lost £200pcm off my disability, so I have lost the means I had to go away, so I am stuck with this as the only means to take me away from the black hole that threatens to eviscerate me.


To be honest looking at your posts you are very negative towards yourself.

Yeah, well, it's damned ****ing hard to feel pretty when you have a permanent 5 o'clock shadow. And it's not just my face, either; you look at yourself in the mirror (okay, I guess you probably shave/wax most bodybuilders I know of do; but imagine all the usual places that you have body hair - and then imagine that hair transferred to a woman. I can't wear low cut tops in the summer, I can't reveal my arms or legs and I try to hide my neck as much as possible with rollneck sweaters) Okay, so it's not life threatening in the sense of 'it's going to kill me', but it is life threatening in the sense of 'because of it I have no life'. I have had 2 relationships and both blokes decided to dump me after I allowed them to see me au naturelle. Well one because of that, the second because I couldn't give him the Union team he wanted (and I would have liked too, if I'm honest- it'd have had to have been a mixed team, though...).

Do you suffer an eating disorder? if too personal please tell me to fcuk off. I ask as it sounds as though you do (far from an expert though and could be talking total ****e).

Mate, I'll talk to anyone about anything. I don't have a recognised ED, I do say I'm eating disordered. I'm bi-polar and this means that I am, very often, unable to organise myself to prepare proper meals (hence the term). Today, I almost managed it (I say almost, because the scrambled eggs were rather cold and leathery - but it was more right than I'd got it before; the beans were hot, the bacon cooked to perfection and the toast was still warm).

I can't cope with things that require different cooking times. For example, sometimes on Friday evenings, I'll treat myself to fishcakes (yes, they're bought, but they're M&S and they're 80% fish - either salmon, haddock, tuna, cod or mackerel; I usually have a packet of each in the freezer (at least I used to; the main freezer has gone TU and my mother's trying to source a fridge/freezer with a larger freezer compartment at a reasonable price and I'll have 2 different ones; last Friday it was salmon and mackerel, tomorrow it could be tuna and haddock) and 100g-worth of their oven chips and a very large salad (rocket, watercress, red chard, spinach, lollo rosso, coriander, basil, mint, chives and chopped cherry tomatoes). My only downfall is the heaped teaspoon of tartare sauce.

Sorry, I'm rambling again. That's because it's 3:40am and I can't sleep - as per usual.

No, you're right, I'm probably not in the best place of mind to get everything co-ordinated (diet/exercise/supps, etc) but I have got to try. I want to keep as much distance between me and Jabba as humanly possible.

After reading your previous posts you have already achieved great things with weight loss and more than most ever do.

So, your point being? That's the past tense. I am NOT giving up. There is no way I am going to allow this damned disorder to make me obese again (and there's no way I'm going back on the slimming tabs. I wouldn't wish Xenical on anyone, no matter how much they had to lose. You look up the side-effects).

cheers

colin