I almost lost my opportunity to write this blog so soon.
As it happens (to almost everyone I know), I had gained some weight over the holidays. It began in October, sooner than usual for me, as the autumn season in Los Angeles is warm and allows for longer enjoyment of outdoor activities and fresh produce. But I had some international visitors right before Halloween, and was obliged to take them on a culinary tour of the area. So there was that.
Then, immediately after Halloween, I moved home in anticipation of my return to grad school. All to the good! But having grandma cook every night, well... I can't be rude if she goes to all that trouble... Then came Thanksgiving, then Christmas and between them, my birthday.
Now, I have recently launched my Personal Training and Fitness Empire, and of course must serve as an example to those I train. So the day after Boxing Day, I pulled my act together and began a campaign to shed excess adipose... and I did! It took me precisely two weeks to go from 135 (yikes) and a size 4/6 to 123 and a size 0/2 (actually smaller than I like to be). On day one or two I started thinking, "I should keep a blog - take pictures, write up my meals and workouts..." but I never got started and then, because I am a Wizard who can shed weight like so much snakeskin, the deed was done and I missed my chance to document the Thrilling Process of Transformation. Or so I thought!
You see, I am a cyborg. Last summer, I had a Paraguard IUD installed. And there are some consequences to this.
Perhaps a bit of backstory is necessary. Over a decade of experimentation, I determined that I am not a fit candidate for hormonal birth control because The Pill makes me a Crazy Person. I will spare you the humiliating, cringeworthy details of my arrival at this conclusion. The Paraguard appealed to me specifically because it does not dose the user with hormones. It relies instead upon an inflammatory response, relating to both mechanical stimulation of the uterine wall and the presence of copper ion.
What does this have to do with fitness? Well, turns out, plenty. There exists ample evidence relating diet, inflammation, body composition, and disease. All of it deserves consideration, which is one of the reasons I catalogue my adventures in body tinkering carefully and publicly.
But! Back to the implant. As chronicled here, in 2011 I gave birth to a sweet baby and snapped back into shape pretty much immediately. At 6 months pp I was at my pre-pregnancy weight of 138, which was very high for me... probably because I was working as a baker when I got knocked up. At 8 months pp, after weaning and a few sessions with my personal training mentor, the wise and beautiful Stevie Santangelo, I returned to 127 which, + 2lbs, is my Happy Place, my perfect speed-to-power ratio.
Now, because I am both a) a scientist and b) vain, I take my measurements every morning. I weigh myself, body fat calipers, tape measure, the works (you may laugh at me now, but when you have a wedding or an awards ceremony you need to get your ass into a Special Garment for, operators are standing by). I am, as a result, exquisitely attuned to the cycles my body undergoes, its response to different foods, physical activities, everything. And what was interesting to me was the change in my waist measurement after having the IUD installed. It increased by a full inch. Permabloat! Isn't it fitting, then, that waist-to-hip ratio correlates strongly with fertility (and therefore, duh, attractiveness)? It was my first sign that this wasn't the free ride I was hoping for. My body and yours are open, dynamical systems seeking homeostasis. Apply pressure and the subsequent equilibrations may surprise you.
The next sign was pain. Horrible, gut wrenching, nauseating, pain. And then the blood. Hoo boy, the blood. Fellas, you might want to look away and come back in a couple paragraphs. This is not for your delicate masculine sensibilities.
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...It was horrifying. I went from a 5 day, painless period with one day of moderate bleeding to these garish 10 day ordeals, with three to five days of you've-got-to-be-kidding-me gratuitous, Tarantinoesque menstrual nightmares. I am not a squeamish person. I have given birth. I have decapitated hundreds of live animals in the name of science. I am a carnivore. I have borne witness to street fights, car wrecks, war zones and circus accidents and I have never seen so much blood in one place at one time. It's more than macabre, it's foul. What's worse is the accompanying sense of diminishment, of helplessness, of being wrenched violently free of a vital substance - and the addition of insult to injury ("hey, I was using that!") I am now laid low for a full week - foggy headed, cold, writhing in agony, bookended by days and days of spotting. So gross.
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Ok. You can look again.
Although at ~6 months after the installation my cycle is somewhat less painful, there are other aspects that have worsened. For starters, the acne in new and mysterious places. The fatigue that seems to last and last. There is my personal canary: one arthritic knuckle that becomes inflamed and angry in the presence of sugar and gluten and has troubled me more lately.
This all came to a head about ten days ago. I had gone through my post-holiday quick change, was enjoying my renewed energy and svelteness, going out dancing, getting ready for the spring semester to start. All appeared to be well. But then, two things happened at the same time. My cycle began again (ruh roh) and LA experienced the worst cold snap in 23 years. And suddenly... I was starving.
It was a strange sensation, as generally when I'm happy (as I am currently, life is good), only moderately active (moving around a lot but not doing serious lifting or racing, etc) and at my desired weight/body composition, my appetite is moderate. The reasons are manyfold I am sure but some switch was flipped and I became famished. FAMISHED! And not just for more food but for the kind of calorie-dense, high-satiety, carbohydrate-rich foods that generally I am driven to consume under periods of great stress. Noodles! Bread (what? yes). It was so weird, I just went with it. For as much of a "body hacker" as I am, I am also given to at least listening to and deciphering my drives if not necessarily paying them heed.
As hostage to the bloodshed, I certainly couldn't work out. I scarcely wanted to leave my warm bed. What I wanted, for that week, was to stay in, eat nourishing food, curl up, and do nothing. And so I did. And it was awesome. In one week:
-I gained ten pounds. I think. I'm pretty sure. I'll weigh in and take my measurements in the morning (day 1). But judging by how my clothes are hanging I think that's the number. I realize that for some people this would be utterly dismaying. But: see above. Wizard!
-I made the executive decision: the IUD comes out. My cyborg days are numbered. I will write more about this later, as I am still gathering information. I would like to add that despite my problems, I am not making an attempt to convince anyone else to remove her device. If you have one, and it works for you, that is awesome. I am not attempting to dissuade anyone from choosing an IUD if she and her physician agree that it is a good fit for her.
-I now have an opportunity to share this process with you, my friends, who so often recruit me in your fitness goals. I am happy to reveal the science+voodoo admixture I use to tone and refine my body, to make it do what I want and look how I like. YMMV - I'll get into that too. But if you're focused, not sick or injured, and willing to move outside your comfort zone, you may surprise yourself with a figure you're really proud of, instead of vaguely dissatisfied with but unsure of how to modify. I will probably take a less extreme approach this time, as the Offending Widget still resides in my womb and until that is pulled I will be a little more gentle and conscientious with myself.
Aaaand... go.
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