The Hubs is out of town, which means my motherhood-related stress is through the roof. I try to give myself a break by ordering takeout while he’s out of town. Options are a bit limited these days with my new game plan, and I was drooling at the idea of the Pollo Mexicano baked potato at Jason’s Deli. Instead I got the Nutty Mixed Up Salad, which is such a delicious mix I don’t use dressing.

So while I’m standing in the kitchen chowing down on my dinner, I come across this Washington Post article linking diet to depression. It all makes sense: if you don’t keep the machine in good condition then the parts will start to fail.

It is crazy to me because food has been a coping mechanism for me for a very long time. Specifically I get great satisfaction from the gravy biscuits at McDonalds. But any time after 10:30 a.m. if I needed a boost I would grab some candy or cheese.

Depression is rough because the feelings of hopelessness can be pervasive with PCOS. Knowing your body doesn’t want to cooperate can do a real number on your mental health. Our current society is built on the premise that skinny is healthy and beautiful. Anything not skinny is not valuable because, clearly, the person is lazy and undisciplined.

Don’t believe me? Check out some of the reviews for mainstream media featuring larger women. Almost all of them fuss that we shouldn’t be glorifying obesity. As if those characters are nothing more than their bodies.

Depression is rough because the feelings of hopelessness can be pervasive with PCOS.

I love shows like Shrill because it humanizes the larger ladies. I love to get clothes and bathing suits from Walmart because they have a good selection of cute stuff in the borderline plus range (that tricky 14/16 that can sometimes be the top of the regular sizes but is sometimes the beginning of plus sizes). Plus let’s not lie, Walmart is the price I like.

This all may seem like rambling thoughts but it is all related. My self esteem takes a hit when I go into a retailer and the only clothes that fit my body look like something a grandmother would wear to a reunion. My self esteem takes a hit when my genetically-skinny friends try share tips to eat healthier. I don’t want to get nutrition advice from a skinny person. I want to hear from someone who had to work against their genes. My self esteem takes a hit when I’ve had a rough day and all I have to show for it is a small pile of Tootsie Roll wrappers and a tummy ache.

I don’t want to get nutrition advice from a skinny person.

So in this blog I will never condescend. I will never drag others down to pull myself up. And I won’t sabotage my own work to satisfy a short-lived stress.