One of the worst side effects of gastric bypass surgery — or any type of lifestyle change that results in major weight loss — is the hormonal fluctuations. They’ve been happening off and on since last summer, but for the past few weeks the hormonal changes — more likely than not caused by the release of hormones stored in fat cells, and probably subsequent depletion of them due to ongoing nutritional issues — have gotten bad. The issue? Having an orgasm is pretty damn difficult, if not downright impossible.

I liken the issue to having a professional electrician wiring a light switch. He knows what he’s doing, and every physical connection is correct. But when he flips the switch, nothing happens. And it doesn’t matter how many times he flips the switch. The light just won’t turn on. That’s how it is for me. It doesn’t matter what kind of stimulation, what kind of sex, when, where, how… I seriously struggle to have an orgasm. It’s an exhausting, stressful, frustrating battle of light switch flipping. So to speak.

Last night Dan (my husband) and I were having sex. And… I just wasn’t getting anywhere. This is par for the course. I reached my, “Enough is enough, this isn’t going to happen, and I’ve got a million other things I could be doing” point, and told him so. But my husband wants to please me, and wants to do whatever he can to ensure my satisfaction before having his own. And so he pushed for me to keep going, to keep trying. This is also par for the course. And I get — and appreciate — his motivation: he wants me to enjoy myself, and so he’s going to encourage me to try a little harder, in the event that I’m just begging off without really giving it my full effort. But I do. I have been. Every time.

And… nothing. I told him again… it’s just not going to happen. As I have before, I told him to continue, because why should we both be unfulfilled? I liken it to a steak or a bowl full of spaghetti. Because of my gastric bypass surgery, I can’t eat either. It’s not that I don’t want either, it’s that I can’t have them. Same thing with orgasms. I want them. Oh god, how I want them. But I have issues having them, and there are times when I just can’t. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want my husband to enjoy his steak, his spaghetti, his orgasm.

Last night was bad… my rock bottom. After the third time of me telling Dan enough was enough, I just couldn’t do it, but he should continue, he refused, and I stumbled out of bed to take a shower. I say stumbled, because at that point I was a 9 on the 1-10 scale, 1 being in the mood and 10 being oh yes I’m there!, so yes, my legs were weak and I was shaky. And I cried in the shower, out of frustration and aggravation and stress and inadequacy and I don’t even know what all.

Back into the bedroom, clean and still shaky… probably still at an 8 or 9, as Dan himself noticed when he pointed out that my “headlights” were “on”. We talked. I apologized. He apologized. I made it clear that I don’t resent him for his easy ability to have orgasms and my contrasting difficulty, I don’t resent him or feel anything negative towards him when he has an orgasm I don’t; but that he does apply unnecessary and unwanted pressure on me when he keeps on me about continuing until I have that elusive orgasm. I struggle enough on my own, and that struggle is exhausting and self-defeating. If I say I’ve had enough and can’t do it, I have. If I tell him to continue, it’s because I want him to. Sex is important in a relationship, and even if I don’t ultimately have an orgasm, I enjoy what I do get out of it, and I want him to have his enjoyment, because it’s important, and it pleases me.

I think I’m going to call my doctor and see what options are available. I’ve been trying to ride this out for months, but I’m reaching the end of my rope. The usual recommendation for this issue is low dose hormone supplementing. But before I agree to that, I want to know what the side effects are, as well as the long-term consequences. Synthetic hormones may help me in the short-term, but what might they do to me in the long-term?

One of the worst things about being so overweight is the sex. Not my ability to have it or experiment with different positions and variations, but how vulnerable and self-conscious I feel during it. Thunderous thighs, ripply stomach (made worse by pregnancy), huge arms… I think the worst is when I’m on top, or when we’re doing it doggy-style. At least I can sort of “hide” during missionary, since my husband is on top of me.

Funny how during one of the most incredible moments my husband and I have together I feel the ugliest.