Psychiatrist: You look like you’re losing quite a bit of weight.
Me: Yeah, I’m kind of trying to. I’d like to not look like a load for the rest of my life.
Psych: How are you going about it?
Me: Well, honestly, since I’ve started the Cymbalta, I’m not really hungry. Half the time lunch time rolls around, before I realize that I’m hungry. Oh, and I’m not eating sticks of butter anymore, so, I guess that’s probably for the best.
Psych: *looks at me to see if I’m being serious* Well, that’s…good? You seem calmer.
This is pretty typical of me when I start this type of anti-depressant. My short stint with Effexor back in 2006 aided in me losing maybe 20 pounds or so, which I’ll admit, on top of feeling better and more centered, is a giant added benefit. At one point in my life, I was one of those people that would just starve myself if I was stressed out. Maybe this was my subconscious way of controlling something, when life felt out of control. But after having kids, I somehow became a stress eater, and since I don’t have the metabolism of a squirrel, the pounds just kept packing on. Now, I eat dinner and I don’t even have a hankering for a night time snack afterwards. I’ve had a full container of Ben and Jerry’s in my freezer for nearly two weeks, and I’ve barely taken a couple of bites out of it. This is clearly not normal, and sort of disturbing. I could polish off one of those in two days.
So in the last couple of months, I’ve maybe lost 20 pounds. I still have another 20 to go, before I hit my goal weight (the pre-Mini pregnancy weight), but for now? I’m feeling a little bit better about myself.
Now, if only my boobs could defy gravity….