A year ago, I was diagnosed with thyroid disease. Usually when you’re told you have an incurable ailment, it’s cause for concern. But learning my thyroid wasn’t working was actually a relief. See, for several years, I’d been gaining weight and had lost most of my energy. It was frustrating, as no matter how much I dieted my clothes no longer fit and I couldn’t find the energy to get up off the couch.
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This sluggishness was both strange and depressing. But I just assumed it was simply part of getting old and it was time to settle into a heavier, slower life. So when I learned that my thyroid was the culprit, it was very good news. And after hearing that all I needed to do was take a pill every day to keep my thyroid running, I was over the moon.
Now, I can sometimes be a little dramatic. When I told my family and friends that if I didn’t take my thyroid pill every day I would die, I discovered that having hypothyroidism is quite common and many people were in the same situation. Of course, they all thought I was being ridiculous with my dire proclamations, so I soon decided to keep quiet about the whole thing.
That said, as my energy returned I began to question if I was on the correct path. I felt like I’d been given a new lease on life and that perhaps I should make some changes. So I went to the hairdresser and got bangs for the first time since I was a kid. I also bought some skinny jeans, a style I swore I’d never wear. And despite my better instincts, I decided to help some people open a Tex-Mex restaurant in NYC.
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