Zap! Its effect was potent all right. And terrifying. The sidewalks rolled beneath my feet. My hands shook and were icy. The sweat ran, not only off my brow, but off my body as well. And I was a shrewish, shrieking, screaming, ill-tempered mess. Need I say that there was a fast end to my “speed” run? I coolly informed my doctor “no more” and went back to trying to starve my body into weight-loss submission.
I tried all right, but still nothing happened in terms of pounds removed. And by this time, six weeks had passed and I still had that twenty pounds of overweight to show for it.
And so I screamed, as we are all prone to do, “glands” specifically, my poor thyroid gland. I had my doctor test. And sure enough, my thyroid was low, 4.0, which is the lowest point on the normal scale. Now low thyroid means, of course, that your body burns its fuel at a much slower rate than it should. Which means that a lot of that fuel may land on you. But the truth is that my PBI, which stands for Protein Bound Iodine and is the way of measuring just what that thyroid gland is doing, was still in normal range and my thyroid didn’t need help.
I was convinced, however, that the thyroid was the villain, never dreaming for a moment that, through my own misinformation, I was consuming much more in the way of calories than I believed and therein hangs a lesson. Always count. Preferably on paper. I demanded, and received, thyroid medication. The PBI went up and so did I. Right up the wall with nerves. And as an added un-attraction, my skin festered with horribly un-lovely pimples. That ended the thyroid medication pronto.
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