Testing…Testing…Is This Thing On?

I’m not gonna lie.

There is a growing fear that I only started this Stretch Marks article because I am, in fact, turning in to my Aunt Faye.

Aunt Faye was a wonderful person, she really was. But Aunt Faye had every ailment known to man and she stopped ever man she saw to tell them about it. Heaven help me! Y’all, if it ever gets to that somebody better tell me! Had I begun this article years ago there would have been no issue because in 2004 I was healthy and happy and could walk to the car without tripping over my left boob. But now, at the ripe old age of “mid-forties” that’s not the case.

So let’s make a pact, okay? I’ll write articles on all the things that us women deal with and you’ll make me feel less alone by reading them AND COMMENTING ON THEM and saying things like, “Don’t be embarrassed, Melissa, I pee when I sneeze, too.” Okay? That’s the only way this is going to work.

So without further ado…

I had a doctor’s appointment a few days ago. It went splendidly. (Sarcasm.) At one point he handed me a box of Kleenex. That’s never a good sign. And I believe at some point during the conversation I said the words, “Dr. Smith, if this doesn’t work, just so you know, I’m gonna come back and burn this building down.” I KID YOU NOT. I literally threatened to kill my physician.

I’m not proud of my bad attitude. And I’m really not proud of the fact that he walked me out with his hand on my shoulder and said, “It was good to see you today” and right then and there – with a new patient filling out her paperwork in the lobby – I looked at him and said (quite loudly,) “I cannot say the same. I despise you.” He laughed because people usually think I’m kidding.

I wasn’t.

People say you’re body changes at 40. I didn’t find that to be true. 40, 41, 42 and 43 felt like any other walk in the park. I was 44 when my body announced it was done and would be packing up and moving and left no forwarding address. Like, it literally just left. Every good thing about my body (and just so y’all know…there were like 2 good things: my hair and my skin) vacated the premises and I was left with thin hair, a nose full of blackheads, bad knees and inflammation.

You should see my Facebook ads. Zuckerberg thinks I’m 90. He ain’t wrong.

A week before my doctor’s appointment I went in for some fasting bloodwork. I also picked up a saliva test. I’m sure there’s a better, more official name for it – but essentially you are sent home with four vials that you spit into at different times throughout the day. You also answer a million questions that lets them know what you’re currently dealing with. Has anyone done one of these before? I had not. After answering all the questions my biggest concerns right now are: memory fog, weight gain, trouble falling asleep, weight specifically around the middle, inflammation, joint pain, and so on and so on, but those were some of the biggies.

It’s hunting season. Can’t someone just take me out and shoot me now?

For someone who has ALWAYS had great blood pressure and for someone who has ALWAYS had good blood sugar levels and for someone who has ALWAYS been in good health, that is not what we found at this most recent exam. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not dying. I only feel like it.

Turns out my blood sugar levels are in a dangerous area. This was surprising to me and surprising to my doctor. (See what I mean when I say, all of a sudden you wake up and you’re mid-40’s and you want to run yourself over with your car??) But for someone who has always battled with her weight, it has never, not once, shown up in my blood sugar levels. No diabetes. No pre-diabetes. No pre-pre-diabetes. Until now. Uggghhh.

He also determined that I had PCOS (Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome). (*REALLY? SERIOUSLY? Oh, thank you so much for “determining” this - but this was something I could have told him FIFTEEN years ago when I went through infertility.) But the way you are diagnosed when you are young and trying to have children, and the way you are diagnosed when you are middle-aged and past child-bearing years are vastly different things. I have now approached an age where I am having issues with progesterone levels and there is also the issue of cortisol levels and estrogen issues and…SOMEBODY STOP ME!!!

I think one of the main reasons I wanted to start Stretch Marks back up, after all these years, is because I think it’s important to feel less alone. And when it comes to an ever-changing body in an ever-changing world, I have been feeling exceptionally lonely.

But I shouldn’t. Should I assume that I am the ONLY one that deals with these issues? No. And neither should you. There are hundreds of us. Thousands! Millions, really. We range in age from 24-84. Women who deal with body issues ranging from weight to hair loss to sexual dysfunction. And I’m not interested in skirting such issues when we could find comfort in exposing them, sharing them, and talking to others who’ve experienced the same.

So what now? Now that I’ve been told I’m not dying, but I’m not exactly “aging gracefully.” What now? We’ll talk about that and so much more in the next issue of Stretch Marks.

Trust me, we’ve only just begun…

I’m so glad you’re here,

Mel