Battlefield: Body

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the ear...

OK, not that far back, but a long, not-that-long time ago—brace yourselves—I was born. I was a healthy not-so-lil' girl and I had a lot of hair. I know you are probably going to expect a baby photo here, I'm not giving it to you.

After all, people, this is your very first installment of "battlefield: body." There is no time to get cutesy.

OK, fine here I am (with a lil' rabbit friend):

I have always been fine. I never had cavities, I never broke any bones, I rarely even ever got a cold or the flu or any old thing. Great health, no complaints, nothing to report to the doc however few and far between I saw one.

But then, "they" lowered the BOOM on me. (Movie credit: Father of the Bride Part II)

There is a battle taking place, a fierce bloody battle with swords and evil little men, and it is taking place inside of yours truly. Other people's bodies give out, give in, tire out, get confused, but not mine. Mine turned up and on itself. This is what it looks like:

Actually, it really looks like this:

For the past forever, no matter what I ate, how much I slept, what medicine I took, how much water I drank, how much I exercised I have felt: sluggish, starving, tired, achey, I've had dry mouth, dry scalp, dry skin. I have had the general feeling of running on empty. No matter what, vacation or 10-hour work days, I have longed for sleep and just another bite of food. It's like my body is stuck in overdrive (thanks college) and just can't slip back into a normal gear. It's like there is something wrong with me.

A-HA! There is something wrong with me.

This old bag o' bones has been under attack, by itself. Dignified, right?! Confirmed today by my great doctor, my immune system has been attacking my thyroid, leading to major jack ass-ery of the thyroid gland, also known as Hashimoto's disease, or chronic thyroiditis. Who knows how long this has been going on, but the good news is that, with this war at least, there is an end in sight.

Tomorrow morning I will begin taking a pill that I will likely take everyday for the rest of my life. It will, hopefully, make me "feel young again," meaning make me feel 24, rather than 52 like I usually do. It should make me not so hungry, so dry-skinned, not so sluggish. In my signature dramatic way, I imagine it will be a total rebirth of the mind, body and spirit. I don't mind if I do play this up as a way to rejuvenate these not-old-but-feel-that-way bones! And while I wish this pill could also make me: petite, cute, a normal feet- and hand-size, I will take what I can get. (Which I hope is: being able to stay awake past 10 p.m. on weekend nights, wanting to go out and party in the USA, settling for just one piece of chocolate, no more sixth, seventh, eighth meals, no more dandruff?, fewer pimples and greasiness, more calm, a better memory, a slimmer waistline, a better attitude, the will to have and create fun!)

I will take an end to beating myself up (literally, ha!) and getting to meet who I really am below the exhaustion, the hunger and the confusion. I am hoping it will make me a better wife, friend, sister, daughter, coworker, employee, writer, etc.

But I can't promise you anything. If my blog starts to suck after this—unless you think it sucks now, in which case: get off of my page—you can blame it on a little thing called Levoxyl.

Catch you fools on the other side!