Post Traumatic Dessert Disorder

I have some mixed emotions this week.

On Monday, I was told that my gallbladder has become a nice comfy habitat for some pretty badass stones. It's a glaring reminder that my fat-fueled diet over the years is not without consequence. This sit-up-and-take-notice diagnosis has become a catalyst for changing my relationship with food even more than when I began this weight loss trek ten weeks ago.

I lost 3.25 lbs. this week. This is certainly reason to celebrate in my book. Not only am I happy that I lost that much chunk from my trunk, but for the first time in ten weeks, I really, truly, honestly, without question know why I lost it. Simply put, this past week I was more in tune with what I put in my mouth than I probably ever have been in 43 years. I'm sorry, but that kind of blows my mind, considering how many freaking diets I have been on in my lifetime. If you're wondering what took me so long to finally figure out that I need to account for every morsel that crosses my lips, read on.

You see, I'm kind of an idiot.

After I left the hospital on Monday, I met one of my best friends, Aimee, and her son for lunch at Bonefish Grill.  I hadn't had a crumb to eat all day. I gave some serious thought as to what I should eat, given my recent dose of not so great news from the ultrasound tech. After carefully perusing the menu, I settled on a lunch combo with 2 soft filet mignon baja tacos and half a caesar salad. The tacos had literally the smallest chunks of meat in them I've ever seen, and they were topped with diced mango, shredded cabbage and a lime crema sauce. The caesar salad was not overly slathered with dressing. If anything, it was a little dry for my taste, but hey - I'm dieting - so it's not like I was going to ask for more. Croutons were minimal. All in all, it was a simple, yet, tasty meal. However, compared to the Lean Cusines that have become my usual go-to lunch fare, it was downright gourmet.

Had I stopped there, with the meal alone, it would have been a perfectly delightful lunch. Good company, good food. I should have been happy with that. More importantly, I should have been satisfied.

When you are dieting, it often feels like you are living a double life. Or maybe being on a diet is more akin to having schizophrenia. Either way, one day, you are Weight Loss Warrior, wearing the red cape, carrying a sword and all of that mumbo jumbo, standing high on a mountain top (or soap box), feeling totally superior because you have just slain the biggest Craving Beast to confront you yet. You feel absolutely 100% freaking invincible. There is NOTHING that will ever come between you and your weight loss goals again. You HAVE this. You KNOW you are winning the battle and you want to shout it from the rooftops.

Screw you, Sugar Addiction! You're my bitch now.

It's no lie. I love being Weight Loss Warrior. That chick has her shit together. She knows what she wants and is doing whatever she needs to in order to make it happen. Chocolate cake and cheese steaks be damned.

But there's another personality that emerges from time to time. She's quite different. Her name is Weight Loss Wimp. And being her? Is not so much fun. Weight Loss Wimp hates having to watch what she eats and is always thinking of excuses as to why she should be allowed to jam some crap down her gullet, no matter that she knows full well what it does to her. She often can't see the forest for the trees and is angry that seemingly everyone else around her is eating whatever the hell they want, so why can't she? The big picture is lost on her. Excuses are the name of the game. That piece of pie? She pretends it won't hurt her. But we all know the ending to that story, don't we?

You glorious confection. Come to Mama. Get in ma belly...

I HATE being Weight Loss Wimp. She makes me feel weak and out of control. When she emerges, the finish line to this tedious, excruciating at times, weight loss marathon seems to move so much father away and I feel my grasp on this whole thing loosening.

Luckily, Weight Loss Wimp doesn't visit that often anymore. She used to show up more than I care to admit, but I think she finally understands she has worn out her welcome. But rest assured, I know that she is always there, lurking around the nearest corner, waiting for an opportunity to come out and once again show her ugly pie-smeared face. Funny thing? She always brings her own fork and spoon.

The last time she showed up was Monday. Flashback to that nice Bonefish lunch with my friend. After our entrees were consumed, it should have been the end of the food portion of our meal, save for maybe a cup of coffee. We could have easily just carried on with our conversation, sipped our sodas, and waited for the check. Except then the devil waitress showed up with the damn dessert menu.

I've always been powerless to the lure of sugary delights. Had my mom known better, she could have made Dessert my middle name, as opposed to the over used choice from the 70's, Ann. So when that bubbly, smiling, waitress showed up waving that hard bound list of mouth-watering treats, Weight Loss Wimp couldn't show up with her fat caboose fast enough. After all, it had been weeks since I had had any real dessert. This one time would be ok, wouldn't it? Didn't I deserve this as a reward for being so good???????????

Using food as a reward when you are admittedly fat but are finally making an effort to lose weight is such an eff'd up way of thinking - I gotta tell you. I know, because that has been my ass backwards mindset for years. But with a diagnosis of gallstones, surely the lesson has been learned.....???

IDIOT ALERT! IDIOT ALERT! DON'T DO IT! DON'T DO IT!! DON'T DO IT!!! DON'T ORDER THE KEY LIME PIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Who knew something so small could hold such power?

Gulp. I did it. I ordered the stupid pie. The creamy, fattening, rich as a Rockefeller pie.

My gallbladder revolted hours later. As it should. I am an idiot. I'll never do it again. Pinky swear.

In the days following, I have been hypervigilant about my eating. I haven't had an attack since Monday and I attribute that entirely to the careful selections of food I have made since then. I'm through with taking risks. Those attacks are simply not worth the pain. Everything that passes the lips, passes the gums, look out stomach, here it comes, has been analyzed for gallbladder attack potential. Admittedly, I'm not reaching out very far on the culinary branches of the food tree these days, but until I get some real relief and more answers as to how to permanently fix what's broken, I'm ok with that.

I have a consultation with a surgeon on April 15 and my upper GI is still happening on the 17th. The next two weeks will be similar to this one in terms of staying on track with my unadventurous meals, but thems the breaks. I'll not be lamenting the lack of dessert in my life any longer either because frankly, anything that makes me feel that lousy is not worth getting upset about.

So while I celebrate the loss this week, I understand that it is because my diet has become rather radical. I'm sticking to a small group of safe foods in order to stay attack-free. Is this the way I want to live the rest of my life? With huge restrictions all of the time? Not especially. What I want is the ability to have a balance, and right now, that simply can't be. There is no room for anything "dangerous" in my diet right now and I'm not going to say that fact isn't hard for me swallow. It is. Keep in mind, what's happening to me is exactly what I wished for oh so long ago (like an idiot). That I would develop an issue to keep me from all of the things making me heavy....Well, I got my wish. Thanks, Fat Genie.

Until next time....have a joyous Easter and for God's sake, will someone please eat a Cadbury Creme Egg or two in my honor? I'd be forever grateful.