A Medical Explanation...

I went to the doctor last week. 

Always a pleasure (until the nurse makes you climb up on the scale, watches as the number slowly rises, and tries not to make eye contact as she jots down your weight on the chart).

While I was there, it was suggested that I have some blood work done, since it had been a while, and, let's be honest, I look like the poster girl for Type II Diabetes.

So, I played along, I had my blood taken, and have been patiently waiting to find out whether I have diabetes, hypothyroidism, or any other weight-related ailment.

Obviously, I would never in a million years wish illness on myself (or anyone else for that matter), but I've found myself wondering whether my weight issues were due to some unseen, untreated medical condition. 

Today, I got my answer. 

No.  Indeed, my weight troubles are of my own making.

My blood work, as it turns out, came back basically normal.  No diabetes, no thyroid problems, no nothing.

Yes, this is good news, and yes, I'm relieved - go me for being fairly healthy despite the extra pounds I've packed on over the years.

But, the bad news is, there's no excuse for it...I'm just fat.  There isn't a medical explanation...there isn't some condition that happens to lead to the steady weight gain that I've been experiencing over the last decade...it's just me.

So, free of genetic predispositions and biological restrictions, I will press on with my attempt at weight loss, having no one to blame for failure but myself.

On a positive note...I weigh in tomorrow...and at least I can expect the number to be back in the normal range, instead of the insanely high number that mysteriously appeared on the evil scale at the doctor's office last week.