For as long as I can remember, I’ve struggled with my weight. It’s been one of those things that linger in the back of your mind, quietly undermining your confidence. I’m a curvy girl — curves in all the right places — and somehow, the way my weight is distributed on my body makes me appear lighter than the scale indicates. But that’s also part of the mind game. I’d stare in the mirror thinking, How can I weigh that much? How did I let it get to this point?
My clothing size gradually increased from L to XL, then XXL, and eventually 2XL. I hated having to admit that I was shopping in the plus-size section — not because there’s anything wrong with it, but because it didn’t align with how I saw myself. I didn’t feel like I was “plus-size.” It was confusing and disheartening all at once.
Back in March, I went to the doctor and found out that over the past five years, I’d gained around 60 pounds. Sixty. Pounds. Hearing that number out loud really hit hard. But when I looked back, it made sense. Between my dad’s passing, the pandemic, and a few personal struggles, food had become my comfort and constant. Sometimes I ate out of sadness, boredom, or just because it was something I could control.
The weight didn’t show up overnight — it gradually sneaked in. A pound here, a pound there, until one day it felt like I blinked and everything fit differently.
My doctor was kind and supportive — no judgment, just honesty.
She told me, “Start trying to eat better and see what sugar you can cut out. Soda is usually a big culprit. Come back in three months, and we’ll check in again.”
So, I did what she said. I gave up my beloved Dr. Pepper (and trust me, that was painful), started cooking more meals at home, and swapped my half-and-half for skim milk in my coffee. They were small changes, but I felt proud of them.
The scale, however, didn’t seem to care about my effort. The number went down a little, then back up again — like it was mocking me. I got frustrated. I fell off track a few times. And I even rescheduled my follow-up appointment because I didn’t want my doctor to think I wasn’t trying. I was trying — harder than ever — but nothing was working.
When I finally went back in August, I felt nervous but hopeful. To my surprise, I’d lost 10 pounds. I should’ve been thrilled — and I was — but part of me still wondered why it wasn’t more. My doctor, being the caring person she is, ordered some bloodwork to check if something more serious might be happening.
A few days later, my results came in on the patient portal (and of course, I peeked, because who doesn’t?).
A lot of it looked fine, but one number stood out — my TSH levels were really high. I didn’t fully understand what that meant, but I had a feeling that was what my doctor wanted to talk about.
At my next appointment, she explained everything. She told me I have hypothyroidism — my thyroid is basically running in slow motion, which affects everything from metabolism to cholesterol to blood sugar. She said, “This is actually good news — it means we have an answer, and we can fix it.”
And that’s when everything started to make sense. The weight gain, the fatigue, the brain fog, the way I’d work so hard and see so little progress — it wasn’t because I wasn’t disciplined enough. It wasn’t because I was doing something wrong. My thyroid wasn’t functioning correctly.
She started me on the lowest dose of levothyroxine, a medication that helps replace the hormone my thyroid wasn’t producing. It felt surreal — like, obviously, I didn’t want to have hypothyroidism, but at the same time, I was relieved. For the first time in years, I had a clear answer.
I wasn’t broken. My body just needed help.
And I can’t even explain how grateful I am for my doctor. She’s one of those rare ones who listens — who doesn’t make you feel like just a number on a chart, but like a human being. She explained everything patiently, made sure I understood, and celebrated the progress I had made instead of focusing on what I hadn’t. If I hadn’t finally done that bloodwork — after months of putting it off — who knows where my health would be right now.
So yeah, it turns out I’ve been battling my own thyroid this whole time. And while the journey isn’t over, I finally feel like I’m on the right path—the path where my body and I are on the same team again.
And honestly? That’s the best feeling in the world.
Featured image via Karola G on Pexels
