Yesterday was an emotional day. After years of dropping serious cash into the registers of Macy's Plus size department, I bid it farewell for what I hope and pray is the last time.
It's a strange feeling to leave the comfort of the plus size world - especially where shopping is concerned. For my entire adult life I have been shopping among the familiar racks of Macy's Women's department and Lane Bryant (when it still resided in the Lehigh Valley Mall) and knew exactly where to find "my clothes." When you're 5' tall and weight upwards of 240 (252 at my highest...*gulp*), pickings are slim (even if your body is not) and you get used to the hunt to find clothing that perhaps not necessarily flatters, but rather doesn't make you look like the beached whale you perceive yourself to be. When you essentially have one store at your disposal (because you absolutely, positively HAVE to try things on - ordering online would be certain death), it's a long and arduous process, complete with anger, frustration, and disgust. And maybe a little sweating. And let's be honest, cursing.
Shopping, especially within the past 5 or so years, as I climbed to my heaviest weight, was hardly an enjoyable experience. I spent a LOT of money on clothing that I didn't exactly love, but felt was the best I could do, given the state of my round, squat shape. It's infuriating how expensive plus size clothing is as well. Sure, I tried shopping the sale racks - but who needs short sleeve tropical prints and white jean shorts when it's almost Christmas?
I've known for the last few weeks that I needed to go shopping, as I shrank out of my ass-grabbing tight tailored 18W pants quite a while ago. Luckily(?), the global warming every Republican's been denying exists, found us with an unseasonably warm October and early November, allowing me to extend the lifespan of my cropped stretchy pants that I've been wearing since before my surgery. It was ok for a while, but as the weeks fly by, I found myself hiking up my drawers more times than I cared to, and finally ended up overlapping the waistband and securing them with the world's largest safety pin. The writing was on the wall. Get thee to the mall... STAT.
I'll admit that I'm a shopper at heart. Even though I switched careers to become a teacher, my inner fashion diva has never left my soul. Her voice had been squelched over the years with each pound gained through my adulthood. She was essentially on life support, trying desperately to survive, but the odds were against her. The bigger I got, the less options there were for me to choose from, and the less she could assert herself. Do you know how many hideous prints are offered to the plus size community? It's staggering. I mean, we draw enough attention to ourselves with our size, now we have to decorate ourselves in a look that screams "Mardi Gras threw up all over me" too?
Regardless of the lack of choices, the plus size department at Macy's was, in a way, akin to a cozy blanket. It was where I knew I belonged and fit in. I could shop there and even though I wasn't happy that I and my clothing bared the plus size label, I knew that I could always find SOMETHING that would make me look presentable. It didn't matter so much how I felt in it, just that it fit and looked professional. The cashiers in the department knew me. I knew them (and had chastised them plenty of times for forgetting to remove the security tag from my purchases (such as my suit jacket I had purchased for an interview - not THAT'S a good story for another time). It may sound weird, but I took comfort in a way, knowing that I had that one place to go where I was familiar with the brands, the fit, the styling. I came to understand what would work just by looking at a cut, and what would make me laugh out loud if I even attempted to put it on. I'm pretty sure that some designers create pieces in plus sizes just to torture those of us not blessed with a runway model's bod.
Yesterday, as I put on the smallest pant size offered (14W's) in the plus department, a flood of emotions came over me. Buttoning those pants and realizing just how baggy they were was both shocking and elating. In a split second I went from the excitement of seeing true progress from the surgery to the worry of not knowing what size I actually was or where to go to find pants that actually fit. It should have felt triumphant, and admittedly it did to a certain degree - but it also felt overwhelming and daunting. Finding myself in unfamiliar territory at the mall was an entirely new experience.
With no time to waste, off to the petite (!!!) department I went, in search of "regular" sized (but short length) pants. When you have body dysmorphia, as I suspect I do, this is a tough thing to do. I felt like a fraud shopping in this foreign (to me) department. The fat girl still lurking inside of me felt like people would look at me and wonder why I was there. As I scoured the racks of pants with single digit sizes, I worried that I was fooling myself into believing there was actually anything here for me that would accommodate my still very curvy shape. Interestingly enough, missy and petite sizes extend from 0 to 16, sometimes even 18. Sizing is different between a missy or petite 18 and a plus size 18W (although please don't expect me to explain the difference because honestly, even after being in the fashion biz for 15 years, I'm not sure, and it definitely varies from vendor to vendor). I knew I wasn't an 18, and hoped I wasn't a 16, so I wished upon a lucky star and grabbed as many 14's and yes, even 12's that I could find. Since I'm shrinking at a relatively rapid rate, I figured as long as I could zip them up and nothing was cutting off my circulation, I'd buy the smallest size I could fit into, knowing that soon enough, these too would be loose. Imagine my jubilation when I zipped up a pair of 12's - in velvet (not stretchy) fabric! Hell yes, they are tight, but I wouldn't describe them as seam splitting. Win Win! I can still wear them comfortably with a tunic and feel comfortable.
I almost cried right there in the dressing room.
And then I smiled. A. Big. Old. Shit. Eating. Grin.
Somebody, quick! Go hide my wallet. This shit just got real.
Sunday, November 5, 2017
Sunday, September 24, 2017
Checking in
I never intended to allow almost 2 months to pass by without a post, but here it is - September 24th and I haven't posted since August 6th. So much has changed since my vacation and I think mentally, I'm in a much better place. Going back and reading that post made me appreciate this journey I am on, and understand that it's a process - and ebbing and flowing if you will - that is all part of the experience.
I am 4 days away from being a full three months out from surgery. That seems crazy to think that the time has flown by so quickly. I'm happy so far with my progress (I think) - but am beginning to understand the importance of this honeymoon period and what I need to start doing in order to get maximum benefit out of the next 9 months.
Today I weighed 201.1 lbs. I've been on a stall now for about 8 days, fluctuating between a ridiculous half pound up and down each day....AND have my damn period, so I suspect I could be holding here for another week. So far I am down 38 pounds from my surgery date, and 50.7 total since June 8th. Since surgery I've been losing an average of 12 - 13 pounds per month, which to me, is not an insane amount of weight to drop per month, but is also nothing to sneeze at, since I don't recall ever being able to do that consistently on my own pre-op. People have told me they notice a difference and I can definitely tell when I put on my clothes - especially the oldie but goodie stash I have hanging in my closet. I'm now fitting into a tight but workable size 14 jeans but still able to wear my 1X tops....just very comfortably now, if not slightly on the loose side. When I was pushing 252, I had ventured into the 3X range for some of my tops and those are definitely no longer a part of the circulation of clothes. I need to start packing stuff up to donate. I'm not gonna lie - it's both exciting and petrifying at the same time. I "see" changes too when I look in the mirror, but not the "drastic" difference others tell me they are seeing. My brother in law was really a good test yesterday - he kept saying "Wow" - and he's really not one for lip service so I believed the fact that he actually notices a major difference. To me, I look like my normal self. But perhaps that is because at my highest weight, I didn't really recognize myself to be me either. I believe I was in some kind of major denial about just how big I had gotten.
Anyway - with the onset of school, there are a few things I have been doing well, and others that I really need to work on. The biggest difficulty has been getting in my liquids. I'm pretty much residing in a borderline-dehydrated state. NOT good. The drinking has been difficult due to the nature of my job, but I can't make excuses....this has to be a priority and so far I haven't made it so. So, that is something I am working to adjust. Protein is fine and I feel like I am getting in the 60 required grams or more a day. Even taking the vitamins has been mostly consistent with a missed evening here and there but I am usually pretty good about staying on top of that. Exercise is the biggest factor. I feel the weight will drop more quickly if I can amp that up. My energy level is up this days (when I am not sick - which I am this week. Allergies or Kindergarten crud? I'm not sure.) But I just need to make the time to do something active each day after school. I am going to try to get to yoga and the Rodale Aquatic club at least 2 times per week to begin and build up from there. I have plenty of equipment in the basement to fill in as needed. I decided that 2 nights per week at school is the maximum I want to devote to late nights doing school work this year. I need to do better with self-care. I've spent my life not taking time to do things for myself to promote my health - so if ever there was a time to begin, it would be now.
That's about it for now...just a check in and affirmation that things are going well. The reflections help me see what I still need to work on and acknowledge just how far I've come. It's important to document this journey for many reasons....but the greatest reason of all is - I never want to go back to the old me.
I am 4 days away from being a full three months out from surgery. That seems crazy to think that the time has flown by so quickly. I'm happy so far with my progress (I think) - but am beginning to understand the importance of this honeymoon period and what I need to start doing in order to get maximum benefit out of the next 9 months.
Today I weighed 201.1 lbs. I've been on a stall now for about 8 days, fluctuating between a ridiculous half pound up and down each day....AND have my damn period, so I suspect I could be holding here for another week. So far I am down 38 pounds from my surgery date, and 50.7 total since June 8th. Since surgery I've been losing an average of 12 - 13 pounds per month, which to me, is not an insane amount of weight to drop per month, but is also nothing to sneeze at, since I don't recall ever being able to do that consistently on my own pre-op. People have told me they notice a difference and I can definitely tell when I put on my clothes - especially the oldie but goodie stash I have hanging in my closet. I'm now fitting into a tight but workable size 14 jeans but still able to wear my 1X tops....just very comfortably now, if not slightly on the loose side. When I was pushing 252, I had ventured into the 3X range for some of my tops and those are definitely no longer a part of the circulation of clothes. I need to start packing stuff up to donate. I'm not gonna lie - it's both exciting and petrifying at the same time. I "see" changes too when I look in the mirror, but not the "drastic" difference others tell me they are seeing. My brother in law was really a good test yesterday - he kept saying "Wow" - and he's really not one for lip service so I believed the fact that he actually notices a major difference. To me, I look like my normal self. But perhaps that is because at my highest weight, I didn't really recognize myself to be me either. I believe I was in some kind of major denial about just how big I had gotten.
Anyway - with the onset of school, there are a few things I have been doing well, and others that I really need to work on. The biggest difficulty has been getting in my liquids. I'm pretty much residing in a borderline-dehydrated state. NOT good. The drinking has been difficult due to the nature of my job, but I can't make excuses....this has to be a priority and so far I haven't made it so. So, that is something I am working to adjust. Protein is fine and I feel like I am getting in the 60 required grams or more a day. Even taking the vitamins has been mostly consistent with a missed evening here and there but I am usually pretty good about staying on top of that. Exercise is the biggest factor. I feel the weight will drop more quickly if I can amp that up. My energy level is up this days (when I am not sick - which I am this week. Allergies or Kindergarten crud? I'm not sure.) But I just need to make the time to do something active each day after school. I am going to try to get to yoga and the Rodale Aquatic club at least 2 times per week to begin and build up from there. I have plenty of equipment in the basement to fill in as needed. I decided that 2 nights per week at school is the maximum I want to devote to late nights doing school work this year. I need to do better with self-care. I've spent my life not taking time to do things for myself to promote my health - so if ever there was a time to begin, it would be now.
That's about it for now...just a check in and affirmation that things are going well. The reflections help me see what I still need to work on and acknowledge just how far I've come. It's important to document this journey for many reasons....but the greatest reason of all is - I never want to go back to the old me.
Sunday, August 6, 2017
Oh, the Torture!
Just when summer is starting to get good, it has to go ahead and be damn near over. It's August 6th already which means vacation is just about coming to an end and before you know it, I'll be back inside the classroom again going full steam ahead until next summer. The thought nearly brings me to tears.
And it's not because I don't love my job. I do - more than I ever dreamed I would. But this summer was soooooo not the summer I had hoped for, and for that I'm kind of feeling more deflated rather rejuvenated about the upcoming school year. Let's just say I am definitely not ready to give up these lazy days for early mornings and long nights just yet.
This vacation has been like no other. I'm having a great time going to the beach - it is my ultimate happy place after all - but it's been an entirely different "vacation" experience than what I am used to. My love of eating out, especially coastal cuisine, is legendary. I absolutely get off on visiting my favorite restaurants in both Bethany and Rehoboth, and savor the dining experiences that I only get to enjoy but once a year. It is as much of a joyful vacation aspect as is the beach - and it completes the experience of being away and enjoying life to the fullest.
We went out to eat exactly one time during our entire vacation and I was only able to eat about 4 - 5 bites of my dinner. At 5 weeks out from surgery by body is simply unable to tolerate many different things at this juncture. While the salmon was a stretch, the beluga lentils and brussel sprouts were a definite NOPE. Overall, my not best dining experience to date.
Not to mention the torture of hearing the waiter describe the new cocktails they had to offer. I almost shed a tear. I shit you not. Honestly, it's the first time I think I viewed this surgery as being a burden on my life rather than a blessing. I've begun to struggle with wondering is it better to be fat and happy than losing weight and being totally bummed out that you can't eat? I think I know the (correct) answer but right now it's really fucking difficult to see the forest from the trees.
Walking downtown was another test last night. Smells EVERYWHERE. I couldn't escape them. It wasn't fun and it reminded me of how I just used to eat with abandon and not care. I would have definitely had my fair share of Fisher's popcorn and ice cream last night, to the point of probably feeling sick. Last night I had two licks of Josh's ice cream cone and that was it. I could have eaten more (it went down pretty smoothly with zero problems), but I stopped. I don't need to head down that slippery slope only 5 and 1/2 weeks in. Hells to the no.
I feel like this bitch-fest simply comes back to one thing. This is NOT an easy road I've chosen. But I HAVE chosen it and I have to live with my decision. If I sound like a whiny shit right now, I'm sorry. I don't mean to. There's just so many things that are new to me, and frankly a bit hard to swallow (no pun intended) at the moment. I do know that it will get better and my body will begin to adapt to this new way of life and I will eventually be able to eat more substantial foods than cottage cheese and deli meat roll ups, but for now, this is my reality and I have to accept it. There is no alternative. There is no going back. You can't "undo" this surgery. What I really need to do is "undo" my brain and forget the past ways of life (and vacation) and embrace the new chapter I'm in the process of writing. It may not be the most exciting chapter but I have a feeling that will change.
Wednesday, July 12, 2017
Patience is a Virtue
Today marks two weeks since my sleeve surgery. TWO WEEKS! Time is flying and while I am thrilled to be getting ready to move on to the next food stage (purees) in one more week, I am also kind of freaking out that summer is zipping by a little too quickly.
I want to talk about something very specific today in regards to this whole journey I am on - and that is the topic of patience. I've always considered myself to be a relatively patient person. After all, I teach Kindergarten and when dealing with 5 and 6 years olds all day, it's kind of the one character trait you really need to own. Well, that, and vodka sure helps a lot.
Perhaps it's easy to be patient with those that you know require it. Small children and the elderly. Pets. And let's face it, sometimes your spouse. But how about when it comes to being patient with yourself?
Like any normal weight loss journey, patience with myself is required here. And even though I had 80 - 85% of my stomach cut out, I still need to remember that this process is a more a marathon, not a sprint. The weight does not simply drop off instantaneously, as I once thought it did. It still takes time and when you least expect it, your body can revolt against you and decide it's not in the mood to lose. This is what I am experiencing now.
Last week, on Thursday, I had my 1 week (and a day) post op appointment and was told I had lost 9 pounds since surgery day. I was completely elated to know that I lost more than a pound a day since my procedure, and the nurse seemed equally pleased with my progress. Perhaps there was a little too much joy in the room that day. Perhaps my body just wanted to knock me down a peg or two. But whatever the case, I've been at a weight loss stall ever since. More or less. I did lose 1/2 pound more 2 days later but that's it.
So now I'm two weeks out and only 9 1/2 pounds down when I really thought I'd be further along. I was warned this would happen - I just didn't expect it so soon. I was mentally ready for the dreaded week 3 stall - not the week two stall. And trust me, I know how neurotic and ridiculous it all sounds - I mean I'm only two weeks in - but this is where my head is right now, so apologies in advance for my idiotic rambling.
I will say that friends on the Bariatric Support page on Facebook have been encouraging. They have shared their own stories of stalls and impatience to get the scale moving in their favor again. It's been helpful to know that this is normal and that its nothing I'm doing to prevent the weight loss. It still doesn't make it fun, or easy to accept. When you go through a major surgery, as I've done, you want to see the fruits of the surgeon's labor sooner rather than later. During that first week, every morning was like Christmas Day. Seeing the scale go down each day was a gift like no other I've ever received. So its hard to go from the scale being my BFF to sticking it's tongue out at me within a matter of days.
And I do realize its only been a few days. And as far as I know, the stall could end tomorrow. Or maybe not. Honestly, it could last for a few weeks based on what I've read in the forums. Whatever the length of time it lasts, I know I shouldn't panic. I understand that I just need to just ride it out. But I won't say it's not disappointing.
Logic an reason tell me to simply continue to do what I've been doing. Getting my fluids, getting my protein and getting in exercise each day. I've been cleared for swimming so now I feel like summer can "officially" begin and I can do the activities I love the most. Beyond that, I suppose I need to learn to trust the process. This is a life change. Change does not happen over night. Making the changes I need to keep the weight off long term is what I should be, and am, focusing on at the moment. The weight loss will come. The surgery has not failed me. I just need to be.....patient.
I want to talk about something very specific today in regards to this whole journey I am on - and that is the topic of patience. I've always considered myself to be a relatively patient person. After all, I teach Kindergarten and when dealing with 5 and 6 years olds all day, it's kind of the one character trait you really need to own. Well, that, and vodka sure helps a lot.
Perhaps it's easy to be patient with those that you know require it. Small children and the elderly. Pets. And let's face it, sometimes your spouse. But how about when it comes to being patient with yourself?
Like any normal weight loss journey, patience with myself is required here. And even though I had 80 - 85% of my stomach cut out, I still need to remember that this process is a more a marathon, not a sprint. The weight does not simply drop off instantaneously, as I once thought it did. It still takes time and when you least expect it, your body can revolt against you and decide it's not in the mood to lose. This is what I am experiencing now.
Last week, on Thursday, I had my 1 week (and a day) post op appointment and was told I had lost 9 pounds since surgery day. I was completely elated to know that I lost more than a pound a day since my procedure, and the nurse seemed equally pleased with my progress. Perhaps there was a little too much joy in the room that day. Perhaps my body just wanted to knock me down a peg or two. But whatever the case, I've been at a weight loss stall ever since. More or less. I did lose 1/2 pound more 2 days later but that's it.
So now I'm two weeks out and only 9 1/2 pounds down when I really thought I'd be further along. I was warned this would happen - I just didn't expect it so soon. I was mentally ready for the dreaded week 3 stall - not the week two stall. And trust me, I know how neurotic and ridiculous it all sounds - I mean I'm only two weeks in - but this is where my head is right now, so apologies in advance for my idiotic rambling.
I will say that friends on the Bariatric Support page on Facebook have been encouraging. They have shared their own stories of stalls and impatience to get the scale moving in their favor again. It's been helpful to know that this is normal and that its nothing I'm doing to prevent the weight loss. It still doesn't make it fun, or easy to accept. When you go through a major surgery, as I've done, you want to see the fruits of the surgeon's labor sooner rather than later. During that first week, every morning was like Christmas Day. Seeing the scale go down each day was a gift like no other I've ever received. So its hard to go from the scale being my BFF to sticking it's tongue out at me within a matter of days.
And I do realize its only been a few days. And as far as I know, the stall could end tomorrow. Or maybe not. Honestly, it could last for a few weeks based on what I've read in the forums. Whatever the length of time it lasts, I know I shouldn't panic. I understand that I just need to just ride it out. But I won't say it's not disappointing.
Logic an reason tell me to simply continue to do what I've been doing. Getting my fluids, getting my protein and getting in exercise each day. I've been cleared for swimming so now I feel like summer can "officially" begin and I can do the activities I love the most. Beyond that, I suppose I need to learn to trust the process. This is a life change. Change does not happen over night. Making the changes I need to keep the weight off long term is what I should be, and am, focusing on at the moment. The weight loss will come. The surgery has not failed me. I just need to be.....patient.
Tuesday, July 4, 2017
Tell All
On June 18th I announced on Facebook that I was having gastric sleeve surgery. I'd been hinting that something different was going on in my life through a few ambiguous posts about drinking protein shakes for a few days. Once I had gotten a few inquiries regarding what the hell was up, I decided it was a good time to spill the beans.
I've always been something of an open book. While I can certainly keep other people's entrusted secrets, I am absolutely flawed when it comes to containing information about myself. Even when I know it might be more advantageous to keep my big fat mouth shut. My thinking behind divulging this somewhat personal choice I was making was simple. My being fat was certainly public. I didn't see any reason why shedding it should be any different.
Although I knew that I didn't want to keep my surgery under wraps, I did think long and hard about how I would want to present the information that I was having the procedure that would: a) put the emphasis on health, not aesthetics, and, b) did not invite the opinions of others. After all, I'd been preparing for this surgery since November of 2016. There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that anyone could convince me to back out after all of the prep work I had done.
What I found after making my announcement was an outpouring of love and support from many friends and family members alike. Granted, a number of folks knew before my Facebook announcement anyway, but upon my "surgery outing" still sent me well wishes for a successful journey and encouragement to see this thing through to the end.
This is not to say that I was not met with opposition from some. Not on Facebook, mind you - but in my real face to face interactions with people close to me. I (surprisingly? not surprisingly?) had both friends and family members spew judgements and unsolicited suggestions at me like you wouldn't believe. I was told I had given up. I was told I needed to eat less, and exercise more (Wow - what a stupendously novel idea! I wish I had thought of that). I was told I could absolutely do it on my own (hmmm...not sure why I haven't been able to, though, for the last 25 - 30 years).
I thought I'd be prepared for the comments. I really did. But the truth is, I wasn't. They hurt and they made me feel bad about resorting to this extreme to regain my health.
Look, I get it. Opinions are like assholes. Everyone's got one. But when the opinions of some of those close to you are adamantly against the one thing you firmly believe in, it does something to the relationship you have with those individuals. I should mention that these comments were coming from some people who have no idea what a 100+ pound struggle is even like. It galls me to no end that someone who has never dealt with weight issues would even HAVE an opinion about how I go about losing mine. And yet....
But it didn't stop there. I also had people who DO have weight issues telling me I was crazy for doing it, or offering me the chance to try a different program that they had done and with which they were successful. I'll admit, the more frequently I fielded comments of this nature, the less worried I became that my responses would insult the commenter themselves. After all, they obviously weren't worried about how their words were affecting me.
Perhaps most surprising of all were the people who came out of the woodwork - friends from my long ago past - that opened up and admitted privately to me that they had also had weight loss surgery. These are people that I am friends with on Facebook and marveled at how all of sudden, they looked so fit and healthy - and thin. For the longest time, I coveted their willpower, wondering why the hell I couldn't get my shit together and do what they did, not knowing they too, decided enough was enough and chose surgery as a way to get their lives back on track.
The public versus private debate in the bariatric world is a big one. Some people really do not want anyone to know this is the path they have chosen. I understand that to a certain extent. As I said before, being fat is kind of a public issue. You can't hide it - it's out there for the world to see. Just like when you begin to lose weight. It's out there and people will notice, even if you don't draw attention to it. Questions will be asked. Answers will be expected. I simply knew I didn't have the wherewithal to make up something that satisfied inquiring minds about "how I did it."
Some have suggested replies such as "with hard work and dedication" or "I've been blessed." I suppose both of those would work but I also know that people aren't satisfied with answers like that (I know I wouldn't be - I want the real dirt!). They want details. The skinny, so to speak. So instead of being bombarded with inquiries later, I thought it best to get it out in the open. I had surgery to help me. Notice I said HELP. Not do it for me. This is by no means the easy way out. I know I have been given a tool only. Not a magic pill. Not a quick fix. Not a solution that won't require any further work on my part. It simply will help to allow me get to a place where I can feel good about myself again. Where I can be active and energetic and live life the way I have been denying myself living it for years.
Thankfully, even after all of the comments, both positive and not so positive, I can say that there are no regrets in my decision to either have the surgery or be upfront about it. I fully understood I was opening myself up for both support and criticism, and thankfully there has been far more of the former than the latter. Support is EVERYTHING. And that applies to anything in life. I feel fortunate for those around me who just seem to "get it."
I've always been something of an open book. While I can certainly keep other people's entrusted secrets, I am absolutely flawed when it comes to containing information about myself. Even when I know it might be more advantageous to keep my big fat mouth shut. My thinking behind divulging this somewhat personal choice I was making was simple. My being fat was certainly public. I didn't see any reason why shedding it should be any different.
Although I knew that I didn't want to keep my surgery under wraps, I did think long and hard about how I would want to present the information that I was having the procedure that would: a) put the emphasis on health, not aesthetics, and, b) did not invite the opinions of others. After all, I'd been preparing for this surgery since November of 2016. There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that anyone could convince me to back out after all of the prep work I had done.
What I found after making my announcement was an outpouring of love and support from many friends and family members alike. Granted, a number of folks knew before my Facebook announcement anyway, but upon my "surgery outing" still sent me well wishes for a successful journey and encouragement to see this thing through to the end.
This is not to say that I was not met with opposition from some. Not on Facebook, mind you - but in my real face to face interactions with people close to me. I (surprisingly? not surprisingly?) had both friends and family members spew judgements and unsolicited suggestions at me like you wouldn't believe. I was told I had given up. I was told I needed to eat less, and exercise more (Wow - what a stupendously novel idea! I wish I had thought of that). I was told I could absolutely do it on my own (hmmm...not sure why I haven't been able to, though, for the last 25 - 30 years).
I thought I'd be prepared for the comments. I really did. But the truth is, I wasn't. They hurt and they made me feel bad about resorting to this extreme to regain my health.
Look, I get it. Opinions are like assholes. Everyone's got one. But when the opinions of some of those close to you are adamantly against the one thing you firmly believe in, it does something to the relationship you have with those individuals. I should mention that these comments were coming from some people who have no idea what a 100+ pound struggle is even like. It galls me to no end that someone who has never dealt with weight issues would even HAVE an opinion about how I go about losing mine. And yet....
But it didn't stop there. I also had people who DO have weight issues telling me I was crazy for doing it, or offering me the chance to try a different program that they had done and with which they were successful. I'll admit, the more frequently I fielded comments of this nature, the less worried I became that my responses would insult the commenter themselves. After all, they obviously weren't worried about how their words were affecting me.
Perhaps most surprising of all were the people who came out of the woodwork - friends from my long ago past - that opened up and admitted privately to me that they had also had weight loss surgery. These are people that I am friends with on Facebook and marveled at how all of sudden, they looked so fit and healthy - and thin. For the longest time, I coveted their willpower, wondering why the hell I couldn't get my shit together and do what they did, not knowing they too, decided enough was enough and chose surgery as a way to get their lives back on track.
The public versus private debate in the bariatric world is a big one. Some people really do not want anyone to know this is the path they have chosen. I understand that to a certain extent. As I said before, being fat is kind of a public issue. You can't hide it - it's out there for the world to see. Just like when you begin to lose weight. It's out there and people will notice, even if you don't draw attention to it. Questions will be asked. Answers will be expected. I simply knew I didn't have the wherewithal to make up something that satisfied inquiring minds about "how I did it."
Some have suggested replies such as "with hard work and dedication" or "I've been blessed." I suppose both of those would work but I also know that people aren't satisfied with answers like that (I know I wouldn't be - I want the real dirt!). They want details. The skinny, so to speak. So instead of being bombarded with inquiries later, I thought it best to get it out in the open. I had surgery to help me. Notice I said HELP. Not do it for me. This is by no means the easy way out. I know I have been given a tool only. Not a magic pill. Not a quick fix. Not a solution that won't require any further work on my part. It simply will help to allow me get to a place where I can feel good about myself again. Where I can be active and energetic and live life the way I have been denying myself living it for years.
Thankfully, even after all of the comments, both positive and not so positive, I can say that there are no regrets in my decision to either have the surgery or be upfront about it. I fully understood I was opening myself up for both support and criticism, and thankfully there has been far more of the former than the latter. Support is EVERYTHING. And that applies to anything in life. I feel fortunate for those around me who just seem to "get it."
Monday, July 3, 2017
The Summer of ???
Ah, summer.
There's nothing quite like it.
I know I've officially turned myself off of "school" mode when I no longer know what day of the week it is. That happened today and I absolutely loved it.
Of course, this summer is going to be far different than my standard summers of yore. Frankly, I'm kind of curious what a summer looks like when it can't revolve around food and alcohol? I don't know that I've ever had to ponder that question in the 24 years since I turned age 21?
Instead of sipping on tall icy gin and tonics and other refreshing libations, I'm embracing mugs of warm herbal tea and cold frothy protein shakes, 4 oz at a time. Instead of eating juicy flame grilled cheeseburgers on squishy kaiser buns and corn on the cob slathered in butter and salt, I'm "chowing down" on 3 oz cups of Sugar Free Jello and ice pops like they're the best damn thing I've ever tasted. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Come on, it is a little funny, isn't it?
I'm 5 days out from surgery and feeling like the changes I'm making this summer are just the first of many changes that will be a part of this crazy journey. I'm sure I don't even know the half of what's to come but that's really all a part of the excitement of this transformation if you ask me.
This morning I stepped on the scale and saw that I am now 3.6 lbs below the weight I was the day of my surgery. That means I'm no longer trying to lose the weight gain from the IV, gas, etc. but am actually in official "losing mode." Crazier still, when I weighed myself later in the afternoon, I weighed less than I did in the morning. When the hell does that ever happen? NEVER. That's when. It blew my mind and that's when I finally realized, this shit is actually going to work.
Self doubt. It's an ugly thing. And after the scale incident this afternoon, I came to understand it's something that I still had lurking in my subconscious until now. It's incredible to think that I would go through such a surgery and not fully believe 100% in myself that it was going to work for me. But now I do. I get it. The weight is going to come off. It has started The roller coaster has left the home platform. I am buckled in and ready for the ride of my life.
So this summer? Yes, its going to be very, very different. And while I have been steadfastly reluctant to change in the past, I know that I am going to want to welcome this change with wide open and welcoming arms. For the first time in a long time, I don't really have a full grip on the summer "formula". It's no longer, eat what I want, drink what I want, repeat. So, what the hell is it, then?
I guess I'll just have to stay fastened in my seat to find out.
Sunday, July 2, 2017
If Peeing Were an Olympic Sport, I'd Win the Gold!
It's amazing what a few days can do.
I'm 4 days out from surgery, and happy to report, feeling pretty damn good. Not sure what I was expecting, but I don't know if I was optimistic enough to think I'd be feeling this "human" after having 2/3 of my stomach cut out. When I think about what I actually had done it still freaks me out a little. Weird.
I'm sitting at my kitchen island sipping a cup of hot tea with lemon and Splenda. You wouldn't imagine how delicious this tastes after having not eaten real food for the last 4 1/2 days. I find I am tolerating most clear liquids, especially if they are warm or hot, which in the world of bariatric surgery, is cause for celebration. The day after surgery I thought I'd never ingest another thing ever again, but it's amazing how quickly your body bounces back after a trauma such as this.
As I mentioned yesterday, staying hydrated is really the name of the game. I am constantly drinking one thing or another, taking time only to pee, shower, pee, sort the mail, pee, type, and pee. It's an exciting time to be alive, folks!
Today, despite the Hades like heat outside, I would like to take a walk around the block. I'm still sore and it doesn't feel "super great" to walk - and I certainly can't do it at any decent pace - however, I know it's an important part of the plan and it's all about making positive changes for my future, no? Since I can't drive for another few days, being homebound is allowing me to focus on liquid intake and taking it easy. Honestly, it's not such a bad gig. This is truly where being a teacher and having summer's off comes in quite handy.
Interestingly enough, people keep asking me if I'm hungry. The answer is a resounding, "No." I don't know the exact full science behind why I suddenly don't give a rat's ass about food when it used to be that I obsessed over it - but honestly? I'm not sure I care. I'm completely ecstatic that I'm not craving my old standbys like pizza and donuts. At this stage, they're not an option anyway so it makes no sense to waste valuable head space even thinking about them. Then again, its only been 4 days - so maybe come talk to me again in a few days. Who knows? I might be ready to chew my right leg off. That's at least 10 meals worth right there.
In addition to not feeling hungry, I find I'm also not so worried about the scale at the moment. Trust me, I know those kind of obsessive days are coming, but right now I'm well aware that the swelling, and gas, and IV fluids are still having their way with my system. So whatever number is on that scale doesn't mean much at this point. Does that mean I'm not weighing myself? Um, hell no. I just had weight loss surgery, after all. Of COURSE I'm curious. Yesterday I was 245.6 which was 5.7 pounds higher than my surgery weight. Today I dropped to 239.3 which means I'm beginning to get rid of some of that hospital-y stuff that infiltrated my body during surgery and the two days following. The real blessing is that for the first time in my life I am not worried about the number because I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, it's going to go down, down, down.... Let me tell you, knowing that fact is fucking liberating as all get out. It means that I can worry a bit less about the physical end of things and spend more time on the mental side of this journey, which, in my humble opinion, is the going to be the real battle.
That's it for today...stay tuned for more tales from this loser. Amazing how good it feels to be able to call myself that!
I'm 4 days out from surgery, and happy to report, feeling pretty damn good. Not sure what I was expecting, but I don't know if I was optimistic enough to think I'd be feeling this "human" after having 2/3 of my stomach cut out. When I think about what I actually had done it still freaks me out a little. Weird.
I'm sitting at my kitchen island sipping a cup of hot tea with lemon and Splenda. You wouldn't imagine how delicious this tastes after having not eaten real food for the last 4 1/2 days. I find I am tolerating most clear liquids, especially if they are warm or hot, which in the world of bariatric surgery, is cause for celebration. The day after surgery I thought I'd never ingest another thing ever again, but it's amazing how quickly your body bounces back after a trauma such as this.
As I mentioned yesterday, staying hydrated is really the name of the game. I am constantly drinking one thing or another, taking time only to pee, shower, pee, sort the mail, pee, type, and pee. It's an exciting time to be alive, folks!
Today, despite the Hades like heat outside, I would like to take a walk around the block. I'm still sore and it doesn't feel "super great" to walk - and I certainly can't do it at any decent pace - however, I know it's an important part of the plan and it's all about making positive changes for my future, no? Since I can't drive for another few days, being homebound is allowing me to focus on liquid intake and taking it easy. Honestly, it's not such a bad gig. This is truly where being a teacher and having summer's off comes in quite handy.
Interestingly enough, people keep asking me if I'm hungry. The answer is a resounding, "No." I don't know the exact full science behind why I suddenly don't give a rat's ass about food when it used to be that I obsessed over it - but honestly? I'm not sure I care. I'm completely ecstatic that I'm not craving my old standbys like pizza and donuts. At this stage, they're not an option anyway so it makes no sense to waste valuable head space even thinking about them. Then again, its only been 4 days - so maybe come talk to me again in a few days. Who knows? I might be ready to chew my right leg off. That's at least 10 meals worth right there.
In addition to not feeling hungry, I find I'm also not so worried about the scale at the moment. Trust me, I know those kind of obsessive days are coming, but right now I'm well aware that the swelling, and gas, and IV fluids are still having their way with my system. So whatever number is on that scale doesn't mean much at this point. Does that mean I'm not weighing myself? Um, hell no. I just had weight loss surgery, after all. Of COURSE I'm curious. Yesterday I was 245.6 which was 5.7 pounds higher than my surgery weight. Today I dropped to 239.3 which means I'm beginning to get rid of some of that hospital-y stuff that infiltrated my body during surgery and the two days following. The real blessing is that for the first time in my life I am not worried about the number because I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, it's going to go down, down, down.... Let me tell you, knowing that fact is fucking liberating as all get out. It means that I can worry a bit less about the physical end of things and spend more time on the mental side of this journey, which, in my humble opinion, is the going to be the real battle.
That's it for today...stay tuned for more tales from this loser. Amazing how good it feels to be able to call myself that!
Saturday, July 1, 2017
Officially on the Loser's Bench
Well, I did it!
Three days ago I had my surgery. No looking back now. This shit just got real, people.
It's a little weird. In some respects I was thinking I'd be feeling "different" about this whole experience. Not quite sure I know what that even means but perhaps I thought there should be some big epiphany going on here that I should be documenting. The most exciting thing I really have to document is that I actually took a poop this morning. Or maybe not so much a poop, but more like a lava flow from my ass. I'm going to consider that progress. TMI??? Sorry but this is real life as I now know it. And when it comes to weight loss surgery, being able to poop so soon after the operation is the freaking holy grail.
After my surgery on Wednesday I was expecting to go home on Thursday afternoon. I was kept in the hospital an additional night because I had horrific nausea and couldn't really take in liquids, or keep them down when I actually tried. It was extremely disheartening, but even as I laid in my hospital bed feeling like shit warmed over, never did I think, "Why did I do this to myself?" If I'm lucky, I won't ever have those thoughts.
I woke up yesterday morning feeling 1000 times better than the previous day. It was like the sun, moon and stars had finally aligned and I could now get on with the healing end of this procedure. I was discharged yesterday early afternoon and came home feeling confident that I could do this. I slept well last night and now this morning I am back at it - sipping like champ and trying to keep what goes in from coming out the other end. Goal for today is simply not to become dehydrated!
I'm happy to not be gagging on my Premier protein shake. I've heard some people really hate what they used to like but so far the chocolate still tastes good to me. Thank God because I have a whole case of the stuff out in my refrigerator!
There are some weird sensations/pain when I seem to swallow too much liquid but other than that, I feel ok. Sure it feels a bit like Mike Tyson went a few rounds on my gut but over all I feel like I should be back to some semblance of normalcy in a week or so.
I haven't weighed myself yet and am wondering if I should just wait until my post-op check in on July 6th. I won't say I'm not curious if I lost anything, but the reality is I probably haven't. I'm still filled with gas and swollen/bloated from the surgery itself. It takes a bit of time for all that crap to work itself out of your system. I never loved farting so much in my entire life. No lie.
Not much else to report...I'm just a girl sitting around trying to sip, sip, sip. I AM looking forward to showering today. That much I know. I am starting to feel a little homeless, if you know what I mean. But that's it - mini goals for today: hydrate, shower, hydrate, walk, hydrate. All day long, hydrate. It's my new mantra.
Three days ago I had my surgery. No looking back now. This shit just got real, people.
It's a little weird. In some respects I was thinking I'd be feeling "different" about this whole experience. Not quite sure I know what that even means but perhaps I thought there should be some big epiphany going on here that I should be documenting. The most exciting thing I really have to document is that I actually took a poop this morning. Or maybe not so much a poop, but more like a lava flow from my ass. I'm going to consider that progress. TMI??? Sorry but this is real life as I now know it. And when it comes to weight loss surgery, being able to poop so soon after the operation is the freaking holy grail.
After my surgery on Wednesday I was expecting to go home on Thursday afternoon. I was kept in the hospital an additional night because I had horrific nausea and couldn't really take in liquids, or keep them down when I actually tried. It was extremely disheartening, but even as I laid in my hospital bed feeling like shit warmed over, never did I think, "Why did I do this to myself?" If I'm lucky, I won't ever have those thoughts.
I woke up yesterday morning feeling 1000 times better than the previous day. It was like the sun, moon and stars had finally aligned and I could now get on with the healing end of this procedure. I was discharged yesterday early afternoon and came home feeling confident that I could do this. I slept well last night and now this morning I am back at it - sipping like champ and trying to keep what goes in from coming out the other end. Goal for today is simply not to become dehydrated!
I'm happy to not be gagging on my Premier protein shake. I've heard some people really hate what they used to like but so far the chocolate still tastes good to me. Thank God because I have a whole case of the stuff out in my refrigerator!
There are some weird sensations/pain when I seem to swallow too much liquid but other than that, I feel ok. Sure it feels a bit like Mike Tyson went a few rounds on my gut but over all I feel like I should be back to some semblance of normalcy in a week or so.
I haven't weighed myself yet and am wondering if I should just wait until my post-op check in on July 6th. I won't say I'm not curious if I lost anything, but the reality is I probably haven't. I'm still filled with gas and swollen/bloated from the surgery itself. It takes a bit of time for all that crap to work itself out of your system. I never loved farting so much in my entire life. No lie.
Not much else to report...I'm just a girl sitting around trying to sip, sip, sip. I AM looking forward to showering today. That much I know. I am starting to feel a little homeless, if you know what I mean. But that's it - mini goals for today: hydrate, shower, hydrate, walk, hydrate. All day long, hydrate. It's my new mantra.
Tuesday, June 27, 2017
Emotional Overload
I cannot believe tomorrow is surgery day.
I have to say, I'm in a little bit of denial. This kind of happened really fast. So much waiting and now - boom - here it is. In my face.
Emotions are running high. When my surgery reminder popped up on my computer's calendar this morning, I felt like I was ready to jump out of my skin. It's like an odd sense of the feeling of stage fright I get anytime I have to speak or perform (flash back to jr high majorette days) in front of a crowd. Frankly, I'd prefer to just sleep all day today so that I don't have to think about what I am about to do tomorrow. Yes - it's normal to have nerves. I know this. If I wasn't nervous, there'd be something seriously wrong with me. I just can't help but think - Am I doing the right thing?
In my heart of hearts, I know I am. You don't go through half a lifetime of being overweight and not think a guaranteed solution to help you lose weight is a good idea. However, it's still a scary prospect. People have asked me what I am afraid of, and when I think about it - the only thing I worry about is complications. I wish I knew I was going to be ok. To feel ok. To not have that dreaded initial buyers remorse that some talk about.
I confessed to my friend Jane yesterday that I feel there will be no room to complain if I am in pain or nauseous or whatever - BECAUSE I CHOSE to do this to myself. Not that I am looking for sympathy but I feel like when you make a decision to electively have surgery - no matter what it is - you have to deal with the risks and take the bad with the good, and you do it without complaint. Maybe that's not a realistic view of how things are or should be but it's just part of the whirlwind of thoughts that's whipping through my head at the moment.
I know that all of this anxiety is coming from fear of the unknown. While I may have been in a preparatory program for this surgery since November, I don't think I'll really know what's what until I become an official member of the loser's club. It's kind of like grad school. I spent 2 1/2 years "learning" to be a teacher but nothing could prepare me for the reality of an actual day in the classroom filled with 24 little ones. You gain your true knowledge by being in the trenches and I think this surgery is no different. I have to figure out what's going to work for me. I have to spend serious time navigating this new way of life and figuring out what will make me most successful. It will take work.
Nervousness doesn't have the full monopoly on my feelings today, though. I'm also pretty damn excited. Even if there are are some issues with surgery that I have to deal with, I know that long term, this surgery is going to be a life changer. My life is pretty damn fantastic already, so it's hard to imagine it getting much better. But I do know that the way I look and feel is going to factor greatly on making life easier. And easier is good. Since I've never had a thin stage in my life, this is going to be a whole new world for me. I'm curious to see what the girl that's been living inside the fat suit is going to do with her new found freedom...Freedom of movement. Freedom of shame. Freedom of embarrassment. Freedom of hiding. Freedom of holding back. I hope the world is ready for her.
At the end of the day I couldn't be doing this without the support of my family and friends. Josh is like a rock. I know he's scared but he supports me nonetheless. He knows I have this. He knows I will be successful. He believes in me. He will be here by my side living through it with me and I am forever grateful for his love and willingness to have my back, no matter what.
So tomorrow is coming...the chance at "normalcy" I have been waiting for. Ready or not...it's on its way.
I have to say, I'm in a little bit of denial. This kind of happened really fast. So much waiting and now - boom - here it is. In my face.
Emotions are running high. When my surgery reminder popped up on my computer's calendar this morning, I felt like I was ready to jump out of my skin. It's like an odd sense of the feeling of stage fright I get anytime I have to speak or perform (flash back to jr high majorette days) in front of a crowd. Frankly, I'd prefer to just sleep all day today so that I don't have to think about what I am about to do tomorrow. Yes - it's normal to have nerves. I know this. If I wasn't nervous, there'd be something seriously wrong with me. I just can't help but think - Am I doing the right thing?
In my heart of hearts, I know I am. You don't go through half a lifetime of being overweight and not think a guaranteed solution to help you lose weight is a good idea. However, it's still a scary prospect. People have asked me what I am afraid of, and when I think about it - the only thing I worry about is complications. I wish I knew I was going to be ok. To feel ok. To not have that dreaded initial buyers remorse that some talk about.
I confessed to my friend Jane yesterday that I feel there will be no room to complain if I am in pain or nauseous or whatever - BECAUSE I CHOSE to do this to myself. Not that I am looking for sympathy but I feel like when you make a decision to electively have surgery - no matter what it is - you have to deal with the risks and take the bad with the good, and you do it without complaint. Maybe that's not a realistic view of how things are or should be but it's just part of the whirlwind of thoughts that's whipping through my head at the moment.
I know that all of this anxiety is coming from fear of the unknown. While I may have been in a preparatory program for this surgery since November, I don't think I'll really know what's what until I become an official member of the loser's club. It's kind of like grad school. I spent 2 1/2 years "learning" to be a teacher but nothing could prepare me for the reality of an actual day in the classroom filled with 24 little ones. You gain your true knowledge by being in the trenches and I think this surgery is no different. I have to figure out what's going to work for me. I have to spend serious time navigating this new way of life and figuring out what will make me most successful. It will take work.
Nervousness doesn't have the full monopoly on my feelings today, though. I'm also pretty damn excited. Even if there are are some issues with surgery that I have to deal with, I know that long term, this surgery is going to be a life changer. My life is pretty damn fantastic already, so it's hard to imagine it getting much better. But I do know that the way I look and feel is going to factor greatly on making life easier. And easier is good. Since I've never had a thin stage in my life, this is going to be a whole new world for me. I'm curious to see what the girl that's been living inside the fat suit is going to do with her new found freedom...Freedom of movement. Freedom of shame. Freedom of embarrassment. Freedom of hiding. Freedom of holding back. I hope the world is ready for her.
At the end of the day I couldn't be doing this without the support of my family and friends. Josh is like a rock. I know he's scared but he supports me nonetheless. He knows I have this. He knows I will be successful. He believes in me. He will be here by my side living through it with me and I am forever grateful for his love and willingness to have my back, no matter what.
So tomorrow is coming...the chance at "normalcy" I have been waiting for. Ready or not...it's on its way.
Tuesday, June 20, 2017
Sharing is Caring???
I have a love/hate relationship with the Bariatric Surgery Forums on Facebook.
On one hand, they provide unlimited free information for pre-and post op patients from those who have forged the trail before me. There's encouragement, friendly banter, recipes, and of course the forever-loved before and after pictures showing every side of weight loss surgery you'd ever want to see.
These forums are meant to be a means of positive support and for the most part, they are. It's amazing how much perfect strangers are willing to share the good, the bad and the ugly - no holds barred. This is the part I love. I'm perfectly ok with people who have been super successful and whose stories are filled with good news. But every now and again, while scrolling through the endless posts, one jumps out about someone who regrets surgery.
Last night there was a woman who posted a video about her shit turning brick-like and how she ended up in the ER with multiple doctors trying to get the rock in her ass to come out. We're talking multiple enemas and no movement. She said it was her public service announcement so that others don't have to suffer but, damn if it didn't freak me the fuck out just a bit.
Of course I know that with any surgery, complications are a real possibility. I'm thankful to be having my sleeve done at a good hospital with an excellent bariatric program. But there is always the chance that something doesn't go quite right. And it scares me more than I have let on.
The good news is, most of the posts on the forums are from patients with glowing reviews of the surgery and documentation of their amazing progress. Many say that this was the best gift they ever gave themselves and I am hoping that I can add myself to that list of people in the near future.
The pre-op diet has given me serious pause for reflection on my eating habits. While I'm not finding it to be terribly difficult to stick to this pre-op plan (its only for two week after all), I know I still need the actual surgery as a tool to help me be successful. This is all about a mindset change - but I feel that won't happen without knowing I can achieve success. And that's the difference between this time and every other past attempt at weight loss. I'm GOING to get there. I WILL succeed. It will just be up to me to make sure I don't slip backwards once I do.
There are many people who have shared their weight gain sagas surrounding this surgery. Without full changing your relationship with food and committing to new and different way of life, I can see how easily the tool that once was your friend can turn into your foe. It might be one of the scariest aspect of this surgery - even scarier than brick-like shits.
At the end of the day, I'm nervous and scared, but also elated that I am taking this life-changing step toward better health. I never, ever thought I would. I just can't wait to see what's on the other side of this fat suit.
On one hand, they provide unlimited free information for pre-and post op patients from those who have forged the trail before me. There's encouragement, friendly banter, recipes, and of course the forever-loved before and after pictures showing every side of weight loss surgery you'd ever want to see.
These forums are meant to be a means of positive support and for the most part, they are. It's amazing how much perfect strangers are willing to share the good, the bad and the ugly - no holds barred. This is the part I love. I'm perfectly ok with people who have been super successful and whose stories are filled with good news. But every now and again, while scrolling through the endless posts, one jumps out about someone who regrets surgery.
Last night there was a woman who posted a video about her shit turning brick-like and how she ended up in the ER with multiple doctors trying to get the rock in her ass to come out. We're talking multiple enemas and no movement. She said it was her public service announcement so that others don't have to suffer but, damn if it didn't freak me the fuck out just a bit.
Of course I know that with any surgery, complications are a real possibility. I'm thankful to be having my sleeve done at a good hospital with an excellent bariatric program. But there is always the chance that something doesn't go quite right. And it scares me more than I have let on.
The good news is, most of the posts on the forums are from patients with glowing reviews of the surgery and documentation of their amazing progress. Many say that this was the best gift they ever gave themselves and I am hoping that I can add myself to that list of people in the near future.
The pre-op diet has given me serious pause for reflection on my eating habits. While I'm not finding it to be terribly difficult to stick to this pre-op plan (its only for two week after all), I know I still need the actual surgery as a tool to help me be successful. This is all about a mindset change - but I feel that won't happen without knowing I can achieve success. And that's the difference between this time and every other past attempt at weight loss. I'm GOING to get there. I WILL succeed. It will just be up to me to make sure I don't slip backwards once I do.
There are many people who have shared their weight gain sagas surrounding this surgery. Without full changing your relationship with food and committing to new and different way of life, I can see how easily the tool that once was your friend can turn into your foe. It might be one of the scariest aspect of this surgery - even scarier than brick-like shits.
At the end of the day, I'm nervous and scared, but also elated that I am taking this life-changing step toward better health. I never, ever thought I would. I just can't wait to see what's on the other side of this fat suit.
Sunday, June 18, 2017
Jumping Hurdles
I know it's been a while since I've blogged - and of course there's very good reason for that. For the past 2 months, I've been eyeball deep in end of year school stuff. The last marking period, while being the most beloved of all the marking periods, is also one of the craziest. There's so much wrap up to do at the end of the year, it seems like it will never get done. Somehow it always does - except for getting my room packed up and organized, but I suppose that's what the week after the last week of school is for.
In the midst of all the hustle and bustle surrounding the end of school, I've been submerged in planning for my surgery which is (holy freaking shit) 10 days away. I'm officially on Day 4 of my pre-op diet which, based on what I have been reading from other bariatric patients on FB, is a dream compared to what some others have had to do pre-op. Thankfully I am not restricted to liquids only. That small meal at the end of the day is probably the saving grace that is keeping me from jumping off the ledge. I just keep telling myself to keep my eye on the prize. And although I have had those motivational thoughts when dieting in the past, this time I know the prize will actually come to fruition.
Yesterday I survived our annual family picnic which is pretty much the food orgy of the year. I almost didn't go because I wasn't sure that my willpower was fully developed but I bit the bullet and decided what the hell? I figured I could always leave if I felt myself waning. Surprisingly, I made it through with out much ado. I did come prepared with a protein shake, protein bar and lots and lots of water. I'm not going to say it was easy, but it wasn't exactly as difficult as I thought it would be either. Interestingly enough, my trip to Costco and Wegmans this morning proved to have far more temptation than even the picnic goodies. I guess the more days I go without eating my typical fare, the more I will want it. I think it's safe to to say I've had to file divorce from eating as I once knew it.
Protein shakes are my new infatuation. What a turn around.
I'll admit I've been having a few moments here and there when I wonder if I'm doing the right thing. But then I think about my future and ask myself what it is that I really want out of this thing. I want to feel better. I want to look better. I want a life that's active, not couch potato-esque. I'm guaranteed these things with the surgery, but not without serious change to both mind and actions. This will not be an easy journey, by any means. No matter what the uninformed masses say.
In the meantime, I'll just keep plugging through until surgery day. I'm hoping to get a few days in at the beach to help relax me and put me in the right state of mind as I prepare to turn the page on this new chapter. It'll be another test but one I am sure I can pass. I can do anything knowing I'm on path to a better me. It will be so worth it!
In the midst of all the hustle and bustle surrounding the end of school, I've been submerged in planning for my surgery which is (holy freaking shit) 10 days away. I'm officially on Day 4 of my pre-op diet which, based on what I have been reading from other bariatric patients on FB, is a dream compared to what some others have had to do pre-op. Thankfully I am not restricted to liquids only. That small meal at the end of the day is probably the saving grace that is keeping me from jumping off the ledge. I just keep telling myself to keep my eye on the prize. And although I have had those motivational thoughts when dieting in the past, this time I know the prize will actually come to fruition.
Yesterday I survived our annual family picnic which is pretty much the food orgy of the year. I almost didn't go because I wasn't sure that my willpower was fully developed but I bit the bullet and decided what the hell? I figured I could always leave if I felt myself waning. Surprisingly, I made it through with out much ado. I did come prepared with a protein shake, protein bar and lots and lots of water. I'm not going to say it was easy, but it wasn't exactly as difficult as I thought it would be either. Interestingly enough, my trip to Costco and Wegmans this morning proved to have far more temptation than even the picnic goodies. I guess the more days I go without eating my typical fare, the more I will want it. I think it's safe to to say I've had to file divorce from eating as I once knew it.
Protein shakes are my new infatuation. What a turn around.
I'll admit I've been having a few moments here and there when I wonder if I'm doing the right thing. But then I think about my future and ask myself what it is that I really want out of this thing. I want to feel better. I want to look better. I want a life that's active, not couch potato-esque. I'm guaranteed these things with the surgery, but not without serious change to both mind and actions. This will not be an easy journey, by any means. No matter what the uninformed masses say.
In the meantime, I'll just keep plugging through until surgery day. I'm hoping to get a few days in at the beach to help relax me and put me in the right state of mind as I prepare to turn the page on this new chapter. It'll be another test but one I am sure I can pass. I can do anything knowing I'm on path to a better me. It will be so worth it!
Saturday, April 15, 2017
Food Love to Food Indifference? Really?
It's the night before Easter and I'm in my kitchen baking the most fabulous springtime cake imaginable. It's a blueberry lemon zucchini cake with lemon buttercream frosting and I can smell it's citrusy, berry-filled deliciousness wafting from the oven as I type this. I've made this thing before, on multiple occasions, and let me tell you, it's the freaking bomb diggity. It's a cake to end all cakes, I tell you. Like, get in my belly - NOW.
Of all the things I will miss post-sleeve surgery, I think making these decadent treats will be at the top of the list. I love baking and cooking and I know it just won't be the same after I have the surgery. And I guess there's good reason for that. I mean, cake is part of the reason I'm having the surgery in the first place. I should be willing to kiss it good bye without too much regret. But is it really that easy to flip the mental switch of a self-proclaimed foodaholic? I guess I shall find out in good time.
I have been trying to attend the weight loss support groups they have have at the hospital because they cover all of the topics that bariatric patients deal with both pre and post-op. So far I've only been to two but they have some really interesting topics coming up I don't want to miss. This past Tuesday, intermixed into a power point presentation about why weight loss support groups are important, 4 post-op patients spoke about their experience with gastric sleeve surgery. After listening to their stories, it was elating to walk out of there knowing I made the right choice to have this done.
One woman said something on Tuesday that really resonated with me. She said that after the surgery, her priorities changed. She no longer cared about food in the way she once did it. She literally said she didn't really care about what she ate, she just ate to sustain herself. Other things took priority in her life and she simply didn't have the same feelings about eating as she once did. Let's think about that for just a minute...she no longer cared about what she ate??? For reals?
I can't remember a time in my life that I didn't care about the food I was putting in my mouth...whether it was good, bad, or somewhere in between. It consumed my thoughts and my world seemed to revolve around eating. What to eat. When to eat. Why I was eating. How I was eating. Food was not only a priority - it was a borderline obsession. It's hard for me to fathom that food could ever lose it's control over me. Then again, it's hard for me to believe that, even with this surgery, I will lose weight (even though I know it's pretty much physically impossible not to.)
The mind game is a tricky one. And I think it's probably the hardest part of this whole journey. While physical hunger may not be there, I am so scared of the mental hunger people talk about. I don't want to go through having 80% of my stomach cut out to still feel like I want to have a torrid love affair with pizza. I am desperate to be like that woman who spoke on Tuesday of having new priorities where food didn't sit at the top of the list. I want to wake up for this surgery ready to begin new relationships with things like exercise and a healthy self-image. I want to say goodbye to my dysfunctional dependency on food. I want to feel confident in knowing that it doesn't have to be center stage in my life anymore. I want food to no longer define a good time. I want other things to replace it. I don't even know what all of those things may be. I just know they will be different.
So June 28 is when this all begins. My surgery has been set and I am ready. I think...
Of all the things I will miss post-sleeve surgery, I think making these decadent treats will be at the top of the list. I love baking and cooking and I know it just won't be the same after I have the surgery. And I guess there's good reason for that. I mean, cake is part of the reason I'm having the surgery in the first place. I should be willing to kiss it good bye without too much regret. But is it really that easy to flip the mental switch of a self-proclaimed foodaholic? I guess I shall find out in good time.
I have been trying to attend the weight loss support groups they have have at the hospital because they cover all of the topics that bariatric patients deal with both pre and post-op. So far I've only been to two but they have some really interesting topics coming up I don't want to miss. This past Tuesday, intermixed into a power point presentation about why weight loss support groups are important, 4 post-op patients spoke about their experience with gastric sleeve surgery. After listening to their stories, it was elating to walk out of there knowing I made the right choice to have this done.
One woman said something on Tuesday that really resonated with me. She said that after the surgery, her priorities changed. She no longer cared about food in the way she once did it. She literally said she didn't really care about what she ate, she just ate to sustain herself. Other things took priority in her life and she simply didn't have the same feelings about eating as she once did. Let's think about that for just a minute...she no longer cared about what she ate??? For reals?
I can't remember a time in my life that I didn't care about the food I was putting in my mouth...whether it was good, bad, or somewhere in between. It consumed my thoughts and my world seemed to revolve around eating. What to eat. When to eat. Why I was eating. How I was eating. Food was not only a priority - it was a borderline obsession. It's hard for me to fathom that food could ever lose it's control over me. Then again, it's hard for me to believe that, even with this surgery, I will lose weight (even though I know it's pretty much physically impossible not to.)
The mind game is a tricky one. And I think it's probably the hardest part of this whole journey. While physical hunger may not be there, I am so scared of the mental hunger people talk about. I don't want to go through having 80% of my stomach cut out to still feel like I want to have a torrid love affair with pizza. I am desperate to be like that woman who spoke on Tuesday of having new priorities where food didn't sit at the top of the list. I want to wake up for this surgery ready to begin new relationships with things like exercise and a healthy self-image. I want to say goodbye to my dysfunctional dependency on food. I want to feel confident in knowing that it doesn't have to be center stage in my life anymore. I want food to no longer define a good time. I want other things to replace it. I don't even know what all of those things may be. I just know they will be different.
So June 28 is when this all begins. My surgery has been set and I am ready. I think...
Sunday, March 5, 2017
Planning for the Future
I hate how inconsistent I've been with blogging but as per usual, life seems to always be getting in the way. It's been a busy couple of months and the rest of March into April looks no better. The good news is, we are rounding the corner into spring and the last few months of school and that means I'm inching ever closer to having my gastric sleeve surgery.
After rereading my last post, I'm happy to say that my feelings regarding having the surgery have changed dramatically. I no longer have those shadows of doubt hanging over me like a lead balloon. I am content with my decision and feel more excited than anything else. For the first time I am starting to believe that this will be the beginning of a new life for me. And it's long, long overdue. By about 25 years, give or take.
I'm not sure what caused the mental change but I'm happy that it happened. This needs to be a positive experience and, trust me, I have enough nay saying from my mom right now that I certainly don't need to add to it. Honestly, I'm over the fear factor and am trying to focus on what life will be like once the weight starts coming off. My current weight is utterly abominable and so its been easy to want to separate myself from that harsh reality and direct my mental energy on the future. My closet full of clothes of all (plus) sizes has been the biggest reminder of why this surgery is happening. When even your fattest clothes aren't big enough, you know you're in trouble. Unfortunately, this is my current situation. The spare tire that resides under my boobs and on top of my protruding stomach taunts me every morning as I discard outfit upon outfit trying to hide the double rolls. That clingy fabric doesn't lie. It tells stories of pizza and donuts and chocolate. Getting dressed is a tiring process. I always said when the 2X's don't fit, I know I'm fucked. Well, guess what?
Today I thought about going shopping. Buying yet BIGGER clothing for a body that continues to be expanding at an alarming rate. Then I asked myself, why would you want to do that? The reality is that this is a temporary situation. In approximately 3 months, I'll begin the transformation that will allow me to leave those bigger sizes in the rearview mirror. Why spend money on this body when I'd rather save it for the new one?
It's not that I'm trying to shame or hate on myself but I will admit I'm sick of living in this fat shell and I have been for years. For the first time, even though I haven't yet had the surgery, I feel little cracks beginning to form in it. It sounds corny but I'm so freaking ready to emerge as a new and improved version of myself. I'd be lying if I said that being fat hasn't held me back from life in some ways. Not in everything - but definitely in some ways that maybe I'm not even really aware of yet. All I know is that for the first time, I am confident that I will have success in a weight loss endeavor that will be long lasting and life changing. If you've ever struggled with weight and played the ever popular "lose some, gain more" game, you know long term success is hard to come by. That's why I'm thankful that I finally made this decision to get the help I so desperately need.
Hopefully it won't be so long between posts next time. I have a consult with my surgeon in the beginning of April and will get to choose my surgery date then. Lots to do to prepare for that! In the meantime, I'll just keep dreaming of the future....
After rereading my last post, I'm happy to say that my feelings regarding having the surgery have changed dramatically. I no longer have those shadows of doubt hanging over me like a lead balloon. I am content with my decision and feel more excited than anything else. For the first time I am starting to believe that this will be the beginning of a new life for me. And it's long, long overdue. By about 25 years, give or take.
I'm not sure what caused the mental change but I'm happy that it happened. This needs to be a positive experience and, trust me, I have enough nay saying from my mom right now that I certainly don't need to add to it. Honestly, I'm over the fear factor and am trying to focus on what life will be like once the weight starts coming off. My current weight is utterly abominable and so its been easy to want to separate myself from that harsh reality and direct my mental energy on the future. My closet full of clothes of all (plus) sizes has been the biggest reminder of why this surgery is happening. When even your fattest clothes aren't big enough, you know you're in trouble. Unfortunately, this is my current situation. The spare tire that resides under my boobs and on top of my protruding stomach taunts me every morning as I discard outfit upon outfit trying to hide the double rolls. That clingy fabric doesn't lie. It tells stories of pizza and donuts and chocolate. Getting dressed is a tiring process. I always said when the 2X's don't fit, I know I'm fucked. Well, guess what?
Today I thought about going shopping. Buying yet BIGGER clothing for a body that continues to be expanding at an alarming rate. Then I asked myself, why would you want to do that? The reality is that this is a temporary situation. In approximately 3 months, I'll begin the transformation that will allow me to leave those bigger sizes in the rearview mirror. Why spend money on this body when I'd rather save it for the new one?
It's not that I'm trying to shame or hate on myself but I will admit I'm sick of living in this fat shell and I have been for years. For the first time, even though I haven't yet had the surgery, I feel little cracks beginning to form in it. It sounds corny but I'm so freaking ready to emerge as a new and improved version of myself. I'd be lying if I said that being fat hasn't held me back from life in some ways. Not in everything - but definitely in some ways that maybe I'm not even really aware of yet. All I know is that for the first time, I am confident that I will have success in a weight loss endeavor that will be long lasting and life changing. If you've ever struggled with weight and played the ever popular "lose some, gain more" game, you know long term success is hard to come by. That's why I'm thankful that I finally made this decision to get the help I so desperately need.
Hopefully it won't be so long between posts next time. I have a consult with my surgeon in the beginning of April and will get to choose my surgery date then. Lots to do to prepare for that! In the meantime, I'll just keep dreaming of the future....
Monday, January 16, 2017
History Repeated
I just went back and read a post from this very blog from January 2, 2016. At the end of the post, I make a desperate plea (to myself?) to not be in the same boat in January 2017 as I was at that very moment. Fast forward to now - that moment in the future I was speaking of. It's here - and guess what? Not only did I not meet the goals I had wished for myself to meet that year, but I happen to be in even deeper shit than I was the day I wrote that post.
Funny how life works. Well, maybe funny's not such a great word in this case.
In all of my blogs (and there have been many), I blame myself for all of my failed attempts at weight loss. My lack of willpower or my love of sugar were always culprits. My inability to portion control anything that tasted good. Not to say these things aren't true - of course you can't have it both ways - eating anything and everything you want with reckless abandon and still expect to lose weight. It doesn't work like that. Not that I thought it did, but I so badly wanted it to be so. And while my attempts at weight loss were always well intentioned, as soon as I had some success, I'd fall off that wagon and it would be months before I'd even realized I was in serious weight gain trouble.
Needless to say, I have a totally fucked up relationship with food. If food were a person, I would have rightfully left its ass long ago because of how abusive we've been to each other. It's a damn shame you need food to live, but I guess until someone comes up with a way to simply exist on love and air alone, I have to make my relationship with it better. Otherwise the rest of my life is going to be pretty freaking miserable.
Not unexpectedly, I've been doing a healthy amount of research on the gastric sleeve surgery I'm proposing to have. I say proposing because ever since I made the decision to do it, I'm all over the place mentally about my decision. One day I'm about as gung-ho as a person can get, and the next I'm shitting a mountain of fat bricks convinced it's the worst idea in the world. I have read this is relatively normal, considering it's no small thing having two-thirds of your stomach cut out and thrown in the trash (or whatever it is that they do with it after surgery). Anyone and everyone who is either a doctor, nutritionist, behavioral therapist, or actual sleeve recipient will tell you the surgery is only a tool that works as well as you allow it to work. Meaning, it's not a magic solution to your weight woes, especially if you don't follow the rules. One article even went so far as to say that if you think you can continue on with the way you were before the surgery and maintain your weight loss, you're in for an even bigger heartbreak than you can imagine.
I get it. I really do. But when I go back and look at my history I have so much fear of failure, it's crippling. I've never had what I would deem real weight loss success - at least none I've been able to maintain. Every time I've lost weight, it's found me again, and it always brought lots of asshole friends along. I have no iota what it even feels like to shed weight permanently. I only know what it's like to be disappointed to lose and then gain, lose and then gain more, lose and then gain even more until you find yourself at a number on the scale that you just cannot allow to get any greater. To think that this unhealthy cycle can actually become a part of my past is so foreign to me, I'm not really sure how to wrap my head around it because in 45 years, I've never, ever been able to do it.
I do know that my brain needs to change along with my body. It actually needs to change BEFORE my body goes through this whole thing. I'm tired of being Debbie Downer about being fat. Ok, so I haven't had success long term but that's why I'm having the surgery in the first place, right? I've made up my mind that the negative thoughts need to be put to bed, and I need to start believing this is the fresh start I've been wishing for all these years.
And if you don't believe I'm going to do it, come read my blog posts next January. ;-)
Funny how life works. Well, maybe funny's not such a great word in this case.
In all of my blogs (and there have been many), I blame myself for all of my failed attempts at weight loss. My lack of willpower or my love of sugar were always culprits. My inability to portion control anything that tasted good. Not to say these things aren't true - of course you can't have it both ways - eating anything and everything you want with reckless abandon and still expect to lose weight. It doesn't work like that. Not that I thought it did, but I so badly wanted it to be so. And while my attempts at weight loss were always well intentioned, as soon as I had some success, I'd fall off that wagon and it would be months before I'd even realized I was in serious weight gain trouble.
Needless to say, I have a totally fucked up relationship with food. If food were a person, I would have rightfully left its ass long ago because of how abusive we've been to each other. It's a damn shame you need food to live, but I guess until someone comes up with a way to simply exist on love and air alone, I have to make my relationship with it better. Otherwise the rest of my life is going to be pretty freaking miserable.
Not unexpectedly, I've been doing a healthy amount of research on the gastric sleeve surgery I'm proposing to have. I say proposing because ever since I made the decision to do it, I'm all over the place mentally about my decision. One day I'm about as gung-ho as a person can get, and the next I'm shitting a mountain of fat bricks convinced it's the worst idea in the world. I have read this is relatively normal, considering it's no small thing having two-thirds of your stomach cut out and thrown in the trash (or whatever it is that they do with it after surgery). Anyone and everyone who is either a doctor, nutritionist, behavioral therapist, or actual sleeve recipient will tell you the surgery is only a tool that works as well as you allow it to work. Meaning, it's not a magic solution to your weight woes, especially if you don't follow the rules. One article even went so far as to say that if you think you can continue on with the way you were before the surgery and maintain your weight loss, you're in for an even bigger heartbreak than you can imagine.
I get it. I really do. But when I go back and look at my history I have so much fear of failure, it's crippling. I've never had what I would deem real weight loss success - at least none I've been able to maintain. Every time I've lost weight, it's found me again, and it always brought lots of asshole friends along. I have no iota what it even feels like to shed weight permanently. I only know what it's like to be disappointed to lose and then gain, lose and then gain more, lose and then gain even more until you find yourself at a number on the scale that you just cannot allow to get any greater. To think that this unhealthy cycle can actually become a part of my past is so foreign to me, I'm not really sure how to wrap my head around it because in 45 years, I've never, ever been able to do it.
I do know that my brain needs to change along with my body. It actually needs to change BEFORE my body goes through this whole thing. I'm tired of being Debbie Downer about being fat. Ok, so I haven't had success long term but that's why I'm having the surgery in the first place, right? I've made up my mind that the negative thoughts need to be put to bed, and I need to start believing this is the fresh start I've been wishing for all these years.
And if you don't believe I'm going to do it, come read my blog posts next January. ;-)
Saturday, January 14, 2017
Stages of Isolation
It’s
Saturday morning and I’m engaged in my typical weekend routine - sitting at my kitchen island drinking
coffee, surfing Facebook and very much enjoying the absence of any pressure to
get in the shower, get dressed and paint my face for public scrutiny. Normally
on a Saturday I don’t have an agenda for my day. At least this has been the
norm for a few years now. I typically like Saturdays to be as lazy as possible.
There are days when staying in my pajamas, especially during the winter months,
has been perfectly acceptable. I do my morning thing on my computer, and then
move a few steps to the couch and plant myself for hours. Some days it even
feels like I’m growing roots. I like to blame it on how tired I am, even though
it’s more than likely that I got anywhere from 8 – 10 hours of sleep the night
before. Meanwhile my husband is out taking a run, doing the dishes, stacking
wood, taking care of the dogs, etc. In other words, I go into a hibernation
state while the rest of the world runs circles around me.
Today
I actually do have to get myself up, showered and looking presentable. My
friend Margaret is having a party at her place, and it starts at noon. (That’s
definitely a tell-tale sign I’m hanging out with an older crew today, if there
ever was one). There was a time that the sheer mention of a party would send
jolts of electric excitement into my body. Historically speaking, I’ve always
been a big celebration girl. My philosophy is any reason is a good reason to
get together and hang with friends. Laughter, food, drinks - all in excess? Yes freaking please.
But
my mindset has been different lately. I don’t look forward to gatherings as
much as I used to. In fact, sometimes I absolutely dread them.
At
first, the shift in my attitude was subtle enough that I attributed my lack of
desire to be social to being run down from work. Managing a group of nineteen 5
and 6 year olds all day isn’t necessarily rocket science, but it does drain a
person. Teaching is an exhausting occupation and anyone who hasn’t spent 7+
hours a day inside a classroom has no idea just how much energy it takes to be
“on” all day. Except, being tired was never an excuse not to party before.
Something else was definitely different. I realized it wasn’t necessarily the
party I wanted to avoid. It was the people - people I loved and who were my close friends. People I had
spent a great deal of time with in my past. It made no sense to me as to why I
wouldn’t want to hang out with them now. Why, all of a sudden, did my love of
couch and pajamas trump a good time?
Embarrassment.
That’s why.
There
are many stages I’ve gone through on my journey to weighing 250 pounds. And
it’s amazing how each increment of 10 - 15 pounds from 200 on changed how I
looked and felt. Not that I was ever ok with being 200 pounds, especially at my
height, but that was an adult “low” weight that I was sort of used to and, dare
I say, somewhat comfortable living with. As I creeped into the 2-teens, it was
scary and uncomfortable, but still, I felt like myself and could “manage” at
that weight and felt I had not drifted so far off the mark that I couldn’t find
my way back to 200. The 220’s were much harder to accept. New size, new discomfort,
new self-image, and not a positive one. The 230’s were of course, even more
awful to bear. How the hell did I get here? I was sure this is where I would
draw the line. Things are starting to hurt. I can’t believe I allowed myself to
get to this point. Lots of anger started to seep in, especially as I went from
the lower 230’s to the upper end. Crossing the threshold to 240 was like the
worst gut punch you can imagine. My arthritic knees requiring cortisone shots
was the last draw. This cannot be happening! Once I hit 244, I raised the white
flag, stopped weighing myself, and like an ostrich, paralyzed in fear, stuck my
head right in the sand. When I finally was forced to pull my head out at a
doctor’s appointment, I was 250 fucking pounds. Ding! Ding! Ding! Highest.
Weight. EVER. Lowest. Self-Esteem. EVER.
Do
I want to go to this party today? Yes and no. I want to see my old friends, but…
I do not want them to see me. Even though I have my plan of action in motion in
terms of my surgery, I still am hovering in the upper 240’s which is probably
about 30 or more pounds heavier than I was the last time I saw most of them
(with the exclusion of Margaret). Will they care that I am fat(ter)? Probably
not, and chances are maybe some of them are heavier than when I saw them last
too. But I don’t care about that. I only care about my own discomfort with
being at a place I never thought I’d be. I don’t want to have to explain that
I’m having surgery because that too, is still tough to deal with mentally and
although I know it’s the right thing for me, I wish like hell it wasn’t.
What
I do know is that I am tired of letting life pass me by. I want couch and
pajama days to be a thing of my past (unless we have a snow day – then all bets
are off) and I want more active, social fun days in my future. I want to be
comfortable in my own skin and stop feeling like the elephant in the room at
social gatherings… Literally, I feel like a damn elephant.
This
surgery is going to help me get there and I’m so excited for that. In the
meantime, I’m going to try to put on my big-girl pants and go out and have fun
and laugh, no matter how much my belly rolls jiggle when I do. I have to keep
reminding myself that my friends don’t care how I look. They aren’t judging me
for the size of my ass, even if I judge myself that way. Although the surgery
is months away, I’d like to start trying to live the life I want to have
post-surgery, now. Today seems like a good day to start.
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