Hypothyroidism and I are not going to be friends. Translation: I'm fat already. Not really fat, I guess, but heavier by far than I've ever been, such that I can't wear many of my clothes. I'm already self-conscious about it. I've really never had that nearly-universal female experience of hating my body until right now. And I'm not a fan. My endocrinologist had told me that if I gained a lot of weight really quickly, to call him, because that pretty much would mean I don't have a thyroid anymore, which is, obviously, a problem, even thought it's also the goal. But yesterday I called, and they seemed unconcerned and told me just to wait until my appointment, which isn't for a couple of weeks. I just hope I don't gain too much more weight before then. I've been working out too much, which is definitely a first for me. I was doing my ballet workout, but I decided to do like 3 times as many reps of some stuff, and I added some weight things, and that was just a bad idea. At the time, I think I can totally handle it, but I've been having these muscle cramps randomly, and they suck a lot, so I'm going to have to cut back. At this point, exercise probably isn't helping that much anyway, but I just feel compelled do so something, for fear of letting this whole weight issue take over my life. For some reason, I feel as if I have some sort of predispotion for doing that. Just because I know I have family members who struggle with it... and because I've never really worried about my body. I really haven't exercised on any sort of regular basis since high school, and I've never been on a diet in my life. Of course, I've also always been relatively comfortable with my body. Until now.
On a different note, I'm back home. I'm not sure how long I'll be here this time, and I still don't know exactly when I'm moving out and moving back in here for real. I am glad to be here again, but I've already been stressed out. Right when I came in, my mom started talking about all these different things I can do if I feel better in the fall. Do I really not want to go back to Radford? What about commuting to Marshall? What about Morehead? etc. etc. etc. "I just hate that you'll be losing so much time," she said. As if I like it. As if I want to waste time. As if I want to be a loser and live with my parents for the rest of my life and never do anything with my life. As if I don't already feel like a failure. It almost makes me wish I hadn't told my parents that I am feeling a little better, because even though I am, I'm not up to worrying about this stuff right now. I don't even want to think about it. I can't.