I'm so sorry that I haven't posted recently, guys! I went back to my hometown to visit my best friend in the world. She didn't know I'd had surgery, and since I was staying a couple of days, it had to come out so that she'd understand why I couldn't enjoy that pitcher of mojitos or eat more than a few spoonfuls.
It may seem strange that I hadn't told her--after all, she is my best friend, close as a sister. I guess it was a combination of not wanting to worry her and add to her stress, and worry on my own part about how she'd take the news. She's always been slender and fit; I've always been The Fat Friend. She's watched me ride the dieting roller coaster for decades, and I worried that she might think I was taking "the easy way out".
As it turns out, I had no reason to worry. After talking at lunch for a few minutes about what the surgery entailed and how it would impact the rest of my life (hopefully in all-positive ways), she was 100% supportive. Now I feel like my support system is complete; a huge relief for me!
So, let's see. Surgery was July 1st, and today makes 17 days post-op. I weighed in this morning, and if the scale is to be believed, I've officially lost 30 pounds from my heaviest weight in April! About 11 pounds of that was pre-op discipline, but the rest is all due to my sleeve rewriting my eating rules forever. I'm less than 10 pounds from Onederland, and boy, that feels good. I should be heading back to school in September with a weight that starts with a "1" instead of a "2"--woohoo! Shopping for back-to-school clothes might actually be more fun for me this year than it will be for my kids. I'm looking forward to it, and wondering if my co-workers will notice any changes in me; and if they do, whether they'll say anything about it. Should be interesting!
How are all of you doing? I hope you're finding ways to keep cool in this heat wave!
BTW--anyone who wants to join a Facebook group with about 50 super-supportive and really funny, nice, all-around good sleevers, just hit me up with your full email address. You can also send it to me at kiltchasinggirl at gmail dot com, and I'll send you a group invite!
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Monday, July 8, 2013
A Week Out from Surgery...
Wow. It's a brand-new world for me, definitely!
I've been home for four days now, and the healing process continues. It's definitely a steep learning curve--mostly related to learning how my body works post-op--but I'm making progress every day, with only a couple of minor setbacks to adjust to.
The first couple of days were rough, of course. The rumbling and gurgling in my sleeve was so intense, it HURT to sip liquids. I decided that during the operation, a tiny, angry third-world dictator must have taken up residence. He had a hair-trigger temper, a huge ego, and steel-cleated combat boots. Swallowing even tiny sips of ANYTHING triggered my tiny, angry dictator to throw unforgettable temper tantrums. At one point, it hurt so much for liquids to land in my sleeve, I had to do Lamaze breathing with every sip--I could feel the liquid trickling down my esophagus (not painful), and then when it arrived in the tiny dictator's domain, he'd make with the stompy boots and tie my sleeve into horrific knots (EXTREMELY painful)! I was worried about having a stricture or becoming dehydrated, but I fought for every sip, and it seems to have worked.
Each day, my sleeve's resident Kim Jong Il became a little less maniacal, and this morning I'm actually able to tolerate small-but-reasonably-sized sips, as opposed to ridiculously baby-sized sips that wouldn't hydrate a mosquito. The crushing, squeezing knots have gone away, and now if I sip too fast or too big, I get a squeeze that acts as a reminder without bringing tears to my eyes.
The other setback is that I seem to be lactose intolerant. This is totally new for me. Pre-op, I could eat anything--and often did, thus my need for weight-loss surgery, but I digress--but that's not the case now. My nutritionist's plan allows me to have "full liquids" at the moment. This means creamy soups with no bits in them, pudding, smooth yogurts (all sugar-free), things like that. I prepped my kitchen about a week before surgery by filling it with sugar-free Snack Paks (premade pudding cups), cream-of-you-name-it soups, whey-based pricey protein powders for smoothies; I was totally ready. When I arrived home, I began using my stash. My angry dictator responded by chaining me to the bathroom for hours on end--I dreaded leaving the house; I was bloated, crampy, miserable. This went on for the first three days of being home. Coupled with a fever that at times nudged toward 100 degrees, you can easily see why I was having some "wth have I done" thoughts!
Yesterday I decided to try a non-dairy day. No protein powders, no milk-based anything. I ate unsweetened applesauce, drank water, nibbled ice chips, made myself an almond milk smoothie with nothing but peanut butter powder added...and I spent a very comfortable day. No diarrhea, no cramping, no being shackled to the loo. What a huge difference!! It seems like the problem is definitely dairy. I'm sad about that, but I hold out hope that it won't be permanent, and maybe I'll be able to reintroduce some things a little further down the line.
I meet with my nutritionist in a couple of days, and hopefully she will be able to help me get my protein in without relying on milk-based products. It's hard when I won't even be adding puréed foods for another week, much less anything that actually requires chewing!
My incisions are now unbandaged and healing. Some of the surgical glue seems to be lifting; I'm sure the doctor will check those for me later today, at my one week follow-up. I have some bruising, though not very much. At the hospital, the nurses missed two of the telemetry markers that are attached to the heart monitor--sticky circles with a snap in the center. I found them when I first got home, but apparently the few extra hours of adhesive were all my skin needed to break out in two perfect circles of eczema. Red, itchy, bubbly torture. But hey, the itching distracts me from the incision soreness! It's slowly healing, kind of like everything else I've inflicted on my poor unsuspecting body in hopes of giving it a happier and longer life.
I have my first official post-op weigh-in today. I'm hoping to see some happy numbers--and to be honest, any downward movement on the scale will make me smile! Overall, things are going well. I'm learning to roll with the punches and try to accomodate what my new plumbing needs. I don't have any real regrets at all, and I feel like this is the beginning of good things for me! How are YOU?
I've been home for four days now, and the healing process continues. It's definitely a steep learning curve--mostly related to learning how my body works post-op--but I'm making progress every day, with only a couple of minor setbacks to adjust to.
The first couple of days were rough, of course. The rumbling and gurgling in my sleeve was so intense, it HURT to sip liquids. I decided that during the operation, a tiny, angry third-world dictator must have taken up residence. He had a hair-trigger temper, a huge ego, and steel-cleated combat boots. Swallowing even tiny sips of ANYTHING triggered my tiny, angry dictator to throw unforgettable temper tantrums. At one point, it hurt so much for liquids to land in my sleeve, I had to do Lamaze breathing with every sip--I could feel the liquid trickling down my esophagus (not painful), and then when it arrived in the tiny dictator's domain, he'd make with the stompy boots and tie my sleeve into horrific knots (EXTREMELY painful)! I was worried about having a stricture or becoming dehydrated, but I fought for every sip, and it seems to have worked.
Each day, my sleeve's resident Kim Jong Il became a little less maniacal, and this morning I'm actually able to tolerate small-but-reasonably-sized sips, as opposed to ridiculously baby-sized sips that wouldn't hydrate a mosquito. The crushing, squeezing knots have gone away, and now if I sip too fast or too big, I get a squeeze that acts as a reminder without bringing tears to my eyes.
The other setback is that I seem to be lactose intolerant. This is totally new for me. Pre-op, I could eat anything--and often did, thus my need for weight-loss surgery, but I digress--but that's not the case now. My nutritionist's plan allows me to have "full liquids" at the moment. This means creamy soups with no bits in them, pudding, smooth yogurts (all sugar-free), things like that. I prepped my kitchen about a week before surgery by filling it with sugar-free Snack Paks (premade pudding cups), cream-of-you-name-it soups, whey-based pricey protein powders for smoothies; I was totally ready. When I arrived home, I began using my stash. My angry dictator responded by chaining me to the bathroom for hours on end--I dreaded leaving the house; I was bloated, crampy, miserable. This went on for the first three days of being home. Coupled with a fever that at times nudged toward 100 degrees, you can easily see why I was having some "wth have I done" thoughts!
Yesterday I decided to try a non-dairy day. No protein powders, no milk-based anything. I ate unsweetened applesauce, drank water, nibbled ice chips, made myself an almond milk smoothie with nothing but peanut butter powder added...and I spent a very comfortable day. No diarrhea, no cramping, no being shackled to the loo. What a huge difference!! It seems like the problem is definitely dairy. I'm sad about that, but I hold out hope that it won't be permanent, and maybe I'll be able to reintroduce some things a little further down the line.
I meet with my nutritionist in a couple of days, and hopefully she will be able to help me get my protein in without relying on milk-based products. It's hard when I won't even be adding puréed foods for another week, much less anything that actually requires chewing!
My incisions are now unbandaged and healing. Some of the surgical glue seems to be lifting; I'm sure the doctor will check those for me later today, at my one week follow-up. I have some bruising, though not very much. At the hospital, the nurses missed two of the telemetry markers that are attached to the heart monitor--sticky circles with a snap in the center. I found them when I first got home, but apparently the few extra hours of adhesive were all my skin needed to break out in two perfect circles of eczema. Red, itchy, bubbly torture. But hey, the itching distracts me from the incision soreness! It's slowly healing, kind of like everything else I've inflicted on my poor unsuspecting body in hopes of giving it a happier and longer life.
I have my first official post-op weigh-in today. I'm hoping to see some happy numbers--and to be honest, any downward movement on the scale will make me smile! Overall, things are going well. I'm learning to roll with the punches and try to accomodate what my new plumbing needs. I don't have any real regrets at all, and I feel like this is the beginning of good things for me! How are YOU?
Thursday, July 4, 2013
I Did It!
Today is Thursday, July 4th, and I can safely state that I'm celebrating my newfound independence from food. I was sleeved Monday, and came home from the hospital yesterday. Right now, I'm comfortably ensconced on the family sofa--laying flat in bed is just not an option yet.
I'd say my pain/discomfort level is right around a 2 or a 3; my back is sore, but I'm not sure if that's due to the sofa not being firm enough or due to a pocket of gas lurking in there somewhere. The worst issue I've had so far has been the refusal of my new sleeve to just quietly accept what I send to it.
No matter what I sip, whether it's hot, cold, or tepid; whether it's sweet or savory, or just plain water; every teeny baby sip I take causes seismic rumbling in my sleeve. It's so loud other people in the room can hear it--and it HURTS. I'm hoping that it's just post-op swelling, and will go away on its own. Getting my fluids in is a challenge right now, but I'm working on it!
Good news: before surgery, I weighed in and the scale said I'd gone down another 2 pounds--bringing my total pre-op weight loss to EIGHTEEN POUNDS gone! Woohoo!
Meh news: after surgery and 3 days in the hospital, I gained back 10 pounds in fluid. Sigh.
No biggie, it'll go down soon.
Back to lounging on the sofa, walking around as much as possible, and sip-sip-sipping!
I'd say my pain/discomfort level is right around a 2 or a 3; my back is sore, but I'm not sure if that's due to the sofa not being firm enough or due to a pocket of gas lurking in there somewhere. The worst issue I've had so far has been the refusal of my new sleeve to just quietly accept what I send to it.
No matter what I sip, whether it's hot, cold, or tepid; whether it's sweet or savory, or just plain water; every teeny baby sip I take causes seismic rumbling in my sleeve. It's so loud other people in the room can hear it--and it HURTS. I'm hoping that it's just post-op swelling, and will go away on its own. Getting my fluids in is a challenge right now, but I'm working on it!
Good news: before surgery, I weighed in and the scale said I'd gone down another 2 pounds--bringing my total pre-op weight loss to EIGHTEEN POUNDS gone! Woohoo!
Meh news: after surgery and 3 days in the hospital, I gained back 10 pounds in fluid. Sigh.
No biggie, it'll go down soon.
Back to lounging on the sofa, walking around as much as possible, and sip-sip-sipping!
Sunday, June 30, 2013
TWENTY-FOUR HOURS.
Just mostly trying not to indulge in a freak-out at this point...I think I'm pretty well packed and ready to go to the hospital tomorrow.
Serious case of nerves; I hate needles and am not a huge fan of pain either, but I am willingly submitting myself to these things in a matter of hours. I'm either crazy or incredibly committed to this new start!
I hope to be online as soon as I feel up to it tomorrow; I'll keep you posted.
Wish me luck--and I'll take any and all prayers, good mojo, positive thoughts or whatever else you've got.
---Vixy
Serious case of nerves; I hate needles and am not a huge fan of pain either, but I am willingly submitting myself to these things in a matter of hours. I'm either crazy or incredibly committed to this new start!
I hope to be online as soon as I feel up to it tomorrow; I'll keep you posted.
Wish me luck--and I'll take any and all prayers, good mojo, positive thoughts or whatever else you've got.
---Vixy
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Getting Ready for a New Start
With just a very few days till my surgery, I'm trying to set myself up for success in the details. I need to finalize my grocery list and make sure I'm fully stocked on cream-of-whatnot soups, sugar-free puddings, almond milk and protein powder.
My bag needs packing--I'm NEVER this far behind on packing when there's a trip to be had--and I need to clean/launder as much as possible so that I'm not feeling swamped post-op.
I had my final meeting with the surgeon yesterday. He's a talented doctor and certainly knows his business, but he's not much with bedside manner. On my first meeting, he breezed through in under a minute; this time I got him to slow down a little and talk, for oh, about two minutes.
I asked what bougie size he normally uses for sleeve surgeries. He looked over his shoulder at me, turned around and said "Hmm, you've been reading too much." My response was, "No, actually, I'm a teacher, and I think it's important to educate myself as a patient." He laughed and told me all about bougie sizes and how at the blahblahblah conference of 2009, it was decided that smaller bougies give no discernible benefit to weight loss and actually seem to cause more complications yadda yadda. Long story short, I will be sleeved using a 40 French bougie. Ta-da! Good to know, if only for the sake of trivia.
Okay, I need to buckle down and get moving on all the stuff that needs moving on before Sunday evening.
If I don't blog till after my surgery, don't panic--I promise to be online and posting updates as soon as I feel remotely human again.
Peace and love to all of you who read my ramblings.
My bag needs packing--I'm NEVER this far behind on packing when there's a trip to be had--and I need to clean/launder as much as possible so that I'm not feeling swamped post-op.
I had my final meeting with the surgeon yesterday. He's a talented doctor and certainly knows his business, but he's not much with bedside manner. On my first meeting, he breezed through in under a minute; this time I got him to slow down a little and talk, for oh, about two minutes.
I asked what bougie size he normally uses for sleeve surgeries. He looked over his shoulder at me, turned around and said "Hmm, you've been reading too much." My response was, "No, actually, I'm a teacher, and I think it's important to educate myself as a patient." He laughed and told me all about bougie sizes and how at the blahblahblah conference of 2009, it was decided that smaller bougies give no discernible benefit to weight loss and actually seem to cause more complications yadda yadda. Long story short, I will be sleeved using a 40 French bougie. Ta-da! Good to know, if only for the sake of trivia.
Okay, I need to buckle down and get moving on all the stuff that needs moving on before Sunday evening.
If I don't blog till after my surgery, don't panic--I promise to be online and posting updates as soon as I feel remotely human again.
Peace and love to all of you who read my ramblings.
Monday, June 24, 2013
And Then There Were Seven.
Seven days.
168 hours.
1,440 minutes.
604,800 seconds.
That's how much time I have remaining until surgery. I can't believe that the process I started in April--just two short months ago--is almost ready to really begin. Up until now, it's been a flurry of appointments, consultations and workshops. I've spent as much time as I can on the Vertical Sleeve Talk forums, reading and asking lots of questions. I feel as well prepared as I can expect to be.
I'm still nervous about the actual operation and complication risks. I'm nervous about really embracing the lifestyle changes for which I'm signing my body up, for the rest of my life. Can I be successful after a lifetime of failing again and again at weight loss and control of my eating? I have to believe the answer to that is "YES".
It's going to be a new beginning, and as one of my beloved friends once told me in a time of personal crisis, "change is like rebirth, and all birth is painful"; but it's also miraculous. I think I'm ready for my miracle of hard work to begin, in just a week's time.
168 hours.
1,440 minutes.
604,800 seconds.
That's how much time I have remaining until surgery. I can't believe that the process I started in April--just two short months ago--is almost ready to really begin. Up until now, it's been a flurry of appointments, consultations and workshops. I've spent as much time as I can on the Vertical Sleeve Talk forums, reading and asking lots of questions. I feel as well prepared as I can expect to be.
I'm still nervous about the actual operation and complication risks. I'm nervous about really embracing the lifestyle changes for which I'm signing my body up, for the rest of my life. Can I be successful after a lifetime of failing again and again at weight loss and control of my eating? I have to believe the answer to that is "YES".
It's going to be a new beginning, and as one of my beloved friends once told me in a time of personal crisis, "change is like rebirth, and all birth is painful"; but it's also miraculous. I think I'm ready for my miracle of hard work to begin, in just a week's time.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
The Importance of Support
..and no, I don't mean using a good solid underwire brassiere! (Though that certainly has provided a reliable level of support for me in the past...)
Yesterday, I completed the next-to-last consultation on my surgery checklist, the "nurse education seminar." Personally, I think it needs a new name. The way they titled it makes it sound like we're going to a training for nurses, not with nurses; but that's probably my inner English teacher showing. Anywaaaay, the seminar itself was just fine. From my perspective, it was a restatment of most of the things I've already gone out and researched, or learned about on the VST forums, but all of the information was clear and helpful.
Most of the things I've had to do pre-op were things that needed to be completed solo. Lab work, EKG, pulmonary clearance, psych evaluations, support group meetings. My family couldn't really experience these with me, and that can make it a little tough on them. I've had a few months to process and think everything through, but for the people who love me, this is happening really quickly--so the seminar gives them a place to ask questions and get answers from a reliable health care professional. All good.
Yesterday's seminar was pretty small, just me and two other patients with their companions. My SO took it all in, wrote some notes and asked a few questions. No problem. What I did notice, though, was that one lady seemed very uncertain about being sleeved--even though her surgery may be sometime in the next month. I don't mean that she seemed nervous; heck, I'M nervous about this entire thing, most days. Having major surgery that happens to involve the permanent removal of most of a major organ should make us nervous, otherwise we're not taking it seriously.
This lady, though, wasn't just suffering jitters or butterflies. She was questioning whether she should go through with the surgery. She's lost a little weight pre-op--as many of us do--and she's now wondering if she could "just take the weight off the natural way" instead of pursuing surgery. She also seemed interested in the lapband, despite our nurse-educator's statements that the band really isn't done very much in that practice any more due to problems with it and that it often leads to scars and weight regain. She admitted to being uncertain, and attracted to the lapband because it's not necessarily permanent.
That's all well and good. If any candidate for surgery decides it's not for them, especially a surgery that is irreversible, I support that choice. After all, the surgeons aren't going anywhere; you can always opt to try it down the road if you re-change your mind. What bothered me, though, was the attitude of this nervous lady's husband.
He was rah-thuh like Thurston Howell the Third (y'know, from "Gilligan's Island"). At first, he came across as very concerned for his wife; wanting to know about healing times and complication rates, and post-op dietary needs. Later, though, he seemed to be the driving force behind her uncertainty. He said that if she's lost weight on her own, it makes him believe surgery isn't as necessary as self-discipline.
Imma let you re-read that last sentence.
...
...
Yeah.
He's not celebrating her progress in losing a little weight before surgery. He's basically blaming her lack of "self discipline" for her obesity. She's fat, and it's because she's weak. She lacks control. She's taking the easy way out.
Okay--he didn't say those things out loud, but he may as well have. When I pointed out that his wife might feel more confident about her choice if she had a support system that included sleeved post-op patients who could share their experiences with her, he asked if I knew anyone who'd been sleeved. Why, yes, actually--and she's been incredibly successful; managed to get from near 300 lbs. to a size 10 in two years. His response? "Was she disciplined about losing weight?"
What the eff kind of question is that? Was she disciplined? Well, yeah, she was--so are most successful WLS'ers. But the sleeve is a major help--thus the reason many post-op people call it their "tool". Kind of tough to sit down and eat an entire pizza or a bucket of chicken wings when your stomach can't hold more than half a cup! I shouldn't care so much about someone else's decision either yea or nay about having this surgery. I guess that man's smug WASPish attitude and condescending outlook toward his wife's prospects for success really bothered me.
After that epiphany, I realized that I'm lucky to have my family's support. I made sure to let them know that, after witnessing what the other side of the coin can be like.
I hope you have a good, strong support system, too!
Yesterday, I completed the next-to-last consultation on my surgery checklist, the "nurse education seminar." Personally, I think it needs a new name. The way they titled it makes it sound like we're going to a training for nurses, not with nurses; but that's probably my inner English teacher showing. Anywaaaay, the seminar itself was just fine. From my perspective, it was a restatment of most of the things I've already gone out and researched, or learned about on the VST forums, but all of the information was clear and helpful.
Most of the things I've had to do pre-op were things that needed to be completed solo. Lab work, EKG, pulmonary clearance, psych evaluations, support group meetings. My family couldn't really experience these with me, and that can make it a little tough on them. I've had a few months to process and think everything through, but for the people who love me, this is happening really quickly--so the seminar gives them a place to ask questions and get answers from a reliable health care professional. All good.
Yesterday's seminar was pretty small, just me and two other patients with their companions. My SO took it all in, wrote some notes and asked a few questions. No problem. What I did notice, though, was that one lady seemed very uncertain about being sleeved--even though her surgery may be sometime in the next month. I don't mean that she seemed nervous; heck, I'M nervous about this entire thing, most days. Having major surgery that happens to involve the permanent removal of most of a major organ should make us nervous, otherwise we're not taking it seriously.
This lady, though, wasn't just suffering jitters or butterflies. She was questioning whether she should go through with the surgery. She's lost a little weight pre-op--as many of us do--and she's now wondering if she could "just take the weight off the natural way" instead of pursuing surgery. She also seemed interested in the lapband, despite our nurse-educator's statements that the band really isn't done very much in that practice any more due to problems with it and that it often leads to scars and weight regain. She admitted to being uncertain, and attracted to the lapband because it's not necessarily permanent.
That's all well and good. If any candidate for surgery decides it's not for them, especially a surgery that is irreversible, I support that choice. After all, the surgeons aren't going anywhere; you can always opt to try it down the road if you re-change your mind. What bothered me, though, was the attitude of this nervous lady's husband.
He was rah-thuh like Thurston Howell the Third (y'know, from "Gilligan's Island"). At first, he came across as very concerned for his wife; wanting to know about healing times and complication rates, and post-op dietary needs. Later, though, he seemed to be the driving force behind her uncertainty. He said that if she's lost weight on her own, it makes him believe surgery isn't as necessary as self-discipline.
Imma let you re-read that last sentence.
...
...
Yeah.
He's not celebrating her progress in losing a little weight before surgery. He's basically blaming her lack of "self discipline" for her obesity. She's fat, and it's because she's weak. She lacks control. She's taking the easy way out.
Okay--he didn't say those things out loud, but he may as well have. When I pointed out that his wife might feel more confident about her choice if she had a support system that included sleeved post-op patients who could share their experiences with her, he asked if I knew anyone who'd been sleeved. Why, yes, actually--and she's been incredibly successful; managed to get from near 300 lbs. to a size 10 in two years. His response? "Was she disciplined about losing weight?"
What the eff kind of question is that? Was she disciplined? Well, yeah, she was--so are most successful WLS'ers. But the sleeve is a major help--thus the reason many post-op people call it their "tool". Kind of tough to sit down and eat an entire pizza or a bucket of chicken wings when your stomach can't hold more than half a cup! I shouldn't care so much about someone else's decision either yea or nay about having this surgery. I guess that man's smug WASPish attitude and condescending outlook toward his wife's prospects for success really bothered me.
After that epiphany, I realized that I'm lucky to have my family's support. I made sure to let them know that, after witnessing what the other side of the coin can be like.
I hope you have a good, strong support system, too!
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
What Do You Most Want out of WLS?
I don't think anyone really goes into weight-loss surgery--whether it's Roux-en-Y, the lapband, or the gastric sleeve--without really wanting something. I mean, who would willingly undergo anesthesia, the risks of abdominal surgery, have their innards re-routed, removed, or forcibly collared with a foreign object, unless the possible benefits FAR outweighed (pardon the pun) the possible risks or side effects? Nobody, that's who.
So what is it that you want most from this big "system reset"? Are you focused on health as your top priority? Getting rid of blood pressure meds, insulin, crackling knees and aching hips? Are you looking forward to wearing clothes that accentuate your slimmer self rather than camouflage the bumps and wobbles? Are you excited to be able to join in on physical activities; whether that means running a 10K or chasing your toddler around the park?
If I'm brutally honest with myself, I guess it's a little of all three, but although my middle-aged body is starting to protest at lugging around an extra Olsen-twin-and-a-half of weight, I haven't had any major health complications from my obesity. Okay, I'm not able to run up three flights of stairs any more without feeling like I'll need a fifteen-minute rest and an oxygen tank at the top, that's true. I'll probably be more active post-op, though I don't see myself becoming a marathoner. (It could happen, but I doubt it. If I suddenly crave long-distance running, I promise to let you know!) My kids are both in their teens, so we don't do a lot of Red Rover or tag in the back yard these days.
My main focus is to be happy in my own skin. Maybe that's a little vain, but there it is. I want to shop for pretty clothes that make me want to sashay instead of hide. I want to look the best that middle-aged me can. I want my kids to be proud of how their mom looks, instead of feeling defensive about having a "fat mom". I'm tired of hating the way I look, and REALLY tired of hating myself for not succeeding at weight loss in the past.
That's my big prize, the one I'm going to struggle towards every single day for the next couple of years. I want to be in the best shape I can be, in the smallest size I can reach.
What's your big goal?
So what is it that you want most from this big "system reset"? Are you focused on health as your top priority? Getting rid of blood pressure meds, insulin, crackling knees and aching hips? Are you looking forward to wearing clothes that accentuate your slimmer self rather than camouflage the bumps and wobbles? Are you excited to be able to join in on physical activities; whether that means running a 10K or chasing your toddler around the park?
If I'm brutally honest with myself, I guess it's a little of all three, but although my middle-aged body is starting to protest at lugging around an extra Olsen-twin-and-a-half of weight, I haven't had any major health complications from my obesity. Okay, I'm not able to run up three flights of stairs any more without feeling like I'll need a fifteen-minute rest and an oxygen tank at the top, that's true. I'll probably be more active post-op, though I don't see myself becoming a marathoner. (It could happen, but I doubt it. If I suddenly crave long-distance running, I promise to let you know!) My kids are both in their teens, so we don't do a lot of Red Rover or tag in the back yard these days.
My main focus is to be happy in my own skin. Maybe that's a little vain, but there it is. I want to shop for pretty clothes that make me want to sashay instead of hide. I want to look the best that middle-aged me can. I want my kids to be proud of how their mom looks, instead of feeling defensive about having a "fat mom". I'm tired of hating the way I look, and REALLY tired of hating myself for not succeeding at weight loss in the past.
That's my big prize, the one I'm going to struggle towards every single day for the next couple of years. I want to be in the best shape I can be, in the smallest size I can reach.
What's your big goal?
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Is it Possible to Love a Kitchen Appliance?
Okay, that might be the oddest question you read today. Unless of course you frequent one of the many WLS forums, in which case you probably have read half a dozen weird questions today; if you have a four year-old, you have probably been exposed to at least 20 odd queries. If you frequent a hentai site or two, you've seen things I never EVER want you to tell me about. Ever.
Anyway...I think I may have a crush on my new blender. It's definitely puppy love; only time will tell if it's a forever relationship based on trust and mutual respect. If you're a weight-loss surgery patient (or candidate), I'm sure you've put at least a little thought into the blender you'll be using to make smoothies, soups or the like. I have a stick blender--and I love that little guy. It can whip up gravy and sauces, scramble up omelets so fluffy they want to levitate above the frying pan. But to use it as my tool of choice for pre/post-op protein shakes and lump-free soups would have been a messy undertaking at best.
I looked into the NutriBullet, which seemed fantastic for individual servings. It appeared to be compact, powerful enough to handle frozen fruit and ice cubes, and performed well in the YouTube reviews I watched. Then I took a look at the Vitamix (a.k.a. the Auction-A-Kidney-And-Refinance-Your-Mortgage 5000). Holy wowzers, that thing looks like the blender version of a Blackhawk crossed with a Lamborghini. I love having shiny new toys--who doesn't--but at 400 to 500 dollars, I just couldn't justify that purchase. If I were a professional restauranteur, maybe it would be a great investment, but to whiz together some Syntrax and almond milk with some ice? Overkill.
Then I stumbled across the Ninja blender series. I actually saw it on an infomercial and resisted the siren song of "just four easy payments of $44.99" despite how badly I wanted to give in and call that 800 number. Then, lo and behold, I saw the same basic system at Tarjay. The price was $20 higher, but I'd be saving shipping and handling, right? Hmm. Ponderponder.
The breakthrough happened when I checked into the same system at Bed, Bath & Beyond. When you sign up online with them for their email newsletter, you get a 20%-off one item coupon. Armed with that fantastic little coupon, I hotfooted it over to BB&B yesterday. It doesn't have all the toys that come with the package sold on the Ninja website--but I saved a good chunk of change in shipping costs, and the coupon brought the price down to below-Tarjay range. Yes, it cost more than the NutriBullet--but instead of a single-serve cup, I now have IMMENSE COSMIC POWER. No. No, I don't, actually. No immense cosmic power; more's the pity. But what I do have is a 9-cup blender, complete with an 8-cup mixing bowl/dough hook/3-cup bowl insert, two single-serve cups with travel lids, and a blender that blows the doors clear off of anything else I've ever owned that dared call itself a blender.
I made the most amazing whole-food smoothie last night to christen my new purchase. I tossed in--with reckless abandon and practically no measuring, mind you--kiwi, pineapple, cucumber, spinach, protein powder, white grape juice, ice cubes, hemp seeds, and vanilla Chobani yogurt. Vroooooom. I ended up with a full container of cool green goodness that made a delicious liquid breakfast. And it's only the beginning. So many possibilities, so many options to explore...
It's true, I admit it. Resistance is futile.
I'm in love with a Ninja.
Anyway...I think I may have a crush on my new blender. It's definitely puppy love; only time will tell if it's a forever relationship based on trust and mutual respect. If you're a weight-loss surgery patient (or candidate), I'm sure you've put at least a little thought into the blender you'll be using to make smoothies, soups or the like. I have a stick blender--and I love that little guy. It can whip up gravy and sauces, scramble up omelets so fluffy they want to levitate above the frying pan. But to use it as my tool of choice for pre/post-op protein shakes and lump-free soups would have been a messy undertaking at best.
I looked into the NutriBullet, which seemed fantastic for individual servings. It appeared to be compact, powerful enough to handle frozen fruit and ice cubes, and performed well in the YouTube reviews I watched. Then I took a look at the Vitamix (a.k.a. the Auction-A-Kidney-And-Refinance-Your-Mortgage 5000). Holy wowzers, that thing looks like the blender version of a Blackhawk crossed with a Lamborghini. I love having shiny new toys--who doesn't--but at 400 to 500 dollars, I just couldn't justify that purchase. If I were a professional restauranteur, maybe it would be a great investment, but to whiz together some Syntrax and almond milk with some ice? Overkill.
Then I stumbled across the Ninja blender series. I actually saw it on an infomercial and resisted the siren song of "just four easy payments of $44.99" despite how badly I wanted to give in and call that 800 number. Then, lo and behold, I saw the same basic system at Tarjay. The price was $20 higher, but I'd be saving shipping and handling, right? Hmm. Ponderponder.
The breakthrough happened when I checked into the same system at Bed, Bath & Beyond. When you sign up online with them for their email newsletter, you get a 20%-off one item coupon. Armed with that fantastic little coupon, I hotfooted it over to BB&B yesterday. It doesn't have all the toys that come with the package sold on the Ninja website--but I saved a good chunk of change in shipping costs, and the coupon brought the price down to below-Tarjay range. Yes, it cost more than the NutriBullet--but instead of a single-serve cup, I now have IMMENSE COSMIC POWER. No. No, I don't, actually. No immense cosmic power; more's the pity. But what I do have is a 9-cup blender, complete with an 8-cup mixing bowl/dough hook/3-cup bowl insert, two single-serve cups with travel lids, and a blender that blows the doors clear off of anything else I've ever owned that dared call itself a blender.
I made the most amazing whole-food smoothie last night to christen my new purchase. I tossed in--with reckless abandon and practically no measuring, mind you--kiwi, pineapple, cucumber, spinach, protein powder, white grape juice, ice cubes, hemp seeds, and vanilla Chobani yogurt. Vroooooom. I ended up with a full container of cool green goodness that made a delicious liquid breakfast. And it's only the beginning. So many possibilities, so many options to explore...
It's true, I admit it. Resistance is futile.
I'm in love with a Ninja.
Monday, June 17, 2013
It's Official!!
I had to make a phone call or three to get through to the very nice lady in charge of booking surgeries last week, but after memorizing the "press 1 for ______, press 2 for _______" menu, I finally got my surgery date nailed down!
July 1st, 2013 (exact time to be determined at some point in the future), I will climb up on a surgery table and surrender 80%+ of my stomach, in order to stop surrendering my health, happiness and involvement in life! I'm excited, I'm thrilled, I'm over the moon! IT'S REALLY HAPPENING!
I'm also TERRIFIED. Because, well...IT'S REALLY HAPPENING. I've only had major surgery twice before, and each time, I went home with a baby--which was quite a door prize, really. This time I'm coming home without a good chunk of a major organ; one which has been both my nemesis and the focus of my joy for much of my life. I'm worried about complications; I'm worried about all those hundred bajillion little details over which I have absolutely no control. Will I get out of the hospital after only two days, or will something--who knows what that "something" could be--go wrong, and keep me there for more time than I planned on? Dehydration, a leak, chronic vomiting; it could be any or all of these.
I'm a single mom, and my ex and his family have not been kept in the loop for this surgery. The date is strategically placed to allow me a few days to recover before having to send the kiddos to him for the following weekend. Keeping the surgery to myself was my choice, and one that I made after a good deal of careful thought. What it means, though, is that if I have to stay for four days, six days, a week (or more), I don't really want to have the "why didn't you tell us you were hospitalized" conversation, much less have a "what do you mean, you had weight loss surgery" conversation. Fingers crossed that it won't come to that. I'm very protective of this decision to change my life by excising most of my stomach; I won't apologize for keeping it quiet. I just hope it all works out the way it needs to.
I'm also a bit scared that I won't be up to the work this surgery demands. I mean, I know that I will be committing to a lifetime of healthier eating and daily exercise, I really do get that. It's just that since I've never been strong enough, physically or mentally, to stick to those goals, I'm worried that I'll fail again. This is my last chance, and boy, do I know it. I have to make it work; I just have to. I refuse to let myself down by allowing this opportunity to FINALLY become healthy and fit fall from my hands.
Any other July surgery folks out there? Want to hold my hand and keep me from freaking out? I'll hold yours, too! Thanks.
July 1st, 2013 (exact time to be determined at some point in the future), I will climb up on a surgery table and surrender 80%+ of my stomach, in order to stop surrendering my health, happiness and involvement in life! I'm excited, I'm thrilled, I'm over the moon! IT'S REALLY HAPPENING!
I'm also TERRIFIED. Because, well...IT'S REALLY HAPPENING. I've only had major surgery twice before, and each time, I went home with a baby--which was quite a door prize, really. This time I'm coming home without a good chunk of a major organ; one which has been both my nemesis and the focus of my joy for much of my life. I'm worried about complications; I'm worried about all those hundred bajillion little details over which I have absolutely no control. Will I get out of the hospital after only two days, or will something--who knows what that "something" could be--go wrong, and keep me there for more time than I planned on? Dehydration, a leak, chronic vomiting; it could be any or all of these.
I'm a single mom, and my ex and his family have not been kept in the loop for this surgery. The date is strategically placed to allow me a few days to recover before having to send the kiddos to him for the following weekend. Keeping the surgery to myself was my choice, and one that I made after a good deal of careful thought. What it means, though, is that if I have to stay for four days, six days, a week (or more), I don't really want to have the "why didn't you tell us you were hospitalized" conversation, much less have a "what do you mean, you had weight loss surgery" conversation. Fingers crossed that it won't come to that. I'm very protective of this decision to change my life by excising most of my stomach; I won't apologize for keeping it quiet. I just hope it all works out the way it needs to.
I'm also a bit scared that I won't be up to the work this surgery demands. I mean, I know that I will be committing to a lifetime of healthier eating and daily exercise, I really do get that. It's just that since I've never been strong enough, physically or mentally, to stick to those goals, I'm worried that I'll fail again. This is my last chance, and boy, do I know it. I have to make it work; I just have to. I refuse to let myself down by allowing this opportunity to FINALLY become healthy and fit fall from my hands.
Any other July surgery folks out there? Want to hold my hand and keep me from freaking out? I'll hold yours, too! Thanks.
Sunday, June 9, 2013
OMGYOUGUYS. YOUGUYSYOUGUYSOMG.
Approval letter:
ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED!!
*happy dances all around the laundry baskets in the living room*
Next step--getting my finalized surgery date from the surgeon's office. Wheeeeeee!!
ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED!!
*happy dances all around the laundry baskets in the living room*
Next step--getting my finalized surgery date from the surgeon's office. Wheeeeeee!!
Friday, June 7, 2013
Hurry Up and Wait...
Isn't that the mantra of WLS folks? Wait for the seminars, wait for the pre-op appointments, wait to lose any pre-op weight your doctor requires, wait, wait, wait. That should go up there with "walk, walk, walk" and "sip, sip, sip" as phrases we get used to during this journey.
I've been incredibly lucky thus far. My surgeon's office is sympathetic to teachers who want WLS during their school breaks, whether it's Christmas, or April break, or summer vacation. Since I've never been through any major surgery before, I really don't have a good frame of reference apart from what I hear from those who have been through this process; and what I'm hearing is that apparently I'm flying right along! It seems that my surgeon's team has really sent me to the FastPass line, and instead of a six-month progression from start to finish, I may be looking at THREE. Just three. Holy wowzers.
That makes me feel pretty blessed; as does the fact that my insurance covers almost every expense. Here's my financial stats so far: I received a bill for a $25 copay that they won't let slide, I had to pay $500 for my three psych/lifestyle workshops, and my insurance policy requires me to pay the balance of my $300 yearly deductible (which comes out to just over $285). Altogether, I'll have a jump start on a healthy new life for less than most people's monthly mortgage/rent payments. Not too shabby!
At lunchtime, I called my surgeon's office to see where we are in the paperwork progression. My case has been submitted to the insurance company for approval--I should have an answer in my mailbox early next week. Then the surgery team will call me to work out a surgery date, and I'll be getting that sleeve, baybee. Sometimes I can't believe I'm really doing this; it's surreal. I'm like David After Dentist. "Is this real life?" Other times, I want surgery day to be here already! What a wonderfully exciting, nervewracking carnival ride!
How's your process coming along? Are you over on The Loser's Bench yet, with lots of extra poundage gone forever? Are you just starting out, wondering if weight loss surgery could be right for you? Are you like me, getting ready to actually take that leap? I'd love to hear your thoughts.
I've been incredibly lucky thus far. My surgeon's office is sympathetic to teachers who want WLS during their school breaks, whether it's Christmas, or April break, or summer vacation. Since I've never been through any major surgery before, I really don't have a good frame of reference apart from what I hear from those who have been through this process; and what I'm hearing is that apparently I'm flying right along! It seems that my surgeon's team has really sent me to the FastPass line, and instead of a six-month progression from start to finish, I may be looking at THREE. Just three. Holy wowzers.
That makes me feel pretty blessed; as does the fact that my insurance covers almost every expense. Here's my financial stats so far: I received a bill for a $25 copay that they won't let slide, I had to pay $500 for my three psych/lifestyle workshops, and my insurance policy requires me to pay the balance of my $300 yearly deductible (which comes out to just over $285). Altogether, I'll have a jump start on a healthy new life for less than most people's monthly mortgage/rent payments. Not too shabby!
At lunchtime, I called my surgeon's office to see where we are in the paperwork progression. My case has been submitted to the insurance company for approval--I should have an answer in my mailbox early next week. Then the surgery team will call me to work out a surgery date, and I'll be getting that sleeve, baybee. Sometimes I can't believe I'm really doing this; it's surreal. I'm like David After Dentist. "Is this real life?" Other times, I want surgery day to be here already! What a wonderfully exciting, nervewracking carnival ride!
How's your process coming along? Are you over on The Loser's Bench yet, with lots of extra poundage gone forever? Are you just starting out, wondering if weight loss surgery could be right for you? Are you like me, getting ready to actually take that leap? I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
I Love Us!
A couple of days ago, I had my first behavioral/lifestyle changes workshop. It turned out to be a great gathering of surgery candidates who share not only a commitment to their healthy futures, but a wonderful sense of humor and the ability to relate well to one another. I left with ribs aching from laughter, and of course, a lot of important and helpful information. I am really looking forward to the next two sessions.
The more people I meet who are having this surgery--or ANY weight loss surgery--the more I am convinced that we are a really special group. (And not necessarily in the "you should wear a helmet before you hurt yourself" way; though I definitely have been known to qualify for that!)
Many of us have faced huge struggles in our lives. Self-esteem has tanked because of our weight; or maybe the weight arrived because of our self-esteem issues, it's sometimes a vicious cycle. Maybe there were periods in our lives when we struggled with emotional warfare between adults or bullying from kids during our youth. We dealt with frustrations and disappointments every time we tried yet another diet, another expensive piece of equipment, another set of DVDs to sweat to with Richard Simmons (that alone should qualify some of us for sainthood--putting up with his chirpy antics can be pretty jawclenching when you're craving carbs)--and the weight would just return over and over again, making us feel like failures. Health challenges like chronic joint pain, back pain, high blood pressure, diabetes, sleep apnea...It can be a very tangled path to WLS, that's for sure.
And yet, despite whatever rocky paths we've been down, and in the face of humongous physical, emotional, financial or relationship land mines that we've tried to dodge, defuse or survive, here we are. Planning to surrender 80% or more of our stomachs so that we can finally gain control over this one facet of our lives which impacts so many other areas.
We're awesome, and we need to never forget that. Wear your scars proudly; they're proof that you're not defeatable!
The more people I meet who are having this surgery--or ANY weight loss surgery--the more I am convinced that we are a really special group. (And not necessarily in the "you should wear a helmet before you hurt yourself" way; though I definitely have been known to qualify for that!)
Many of us have faced huge struggles in our lives. Self-esteem has tanked because of our weight; or maybe the weight arrived because of our self-esteem issues, it's sometimes a vicious cycle. Maybe there were periods in our lives when we struggled with emotional warfare between adults or bullying from kids during our youth. We dealt with frustrations and disappointments every time we tried yet another diet, another expensive piece of equipment, another set of DVDs to sweat to with Richard Simmons (that alone should qualify some of us for sainthood--putting up with his chirpy antics can be pretty jawclenching when you're craving carbs)--and the weight would just return over and over again, making us feel like failures. Health challenges like chronic joint pain, back pain, high blood pressure, diabetes, sleep apnea...It can be a very tangled path to WLS, that's for sure.
And yet, despite whatever rocky paths we've been down, and in the face of humongous physical, emotional, financial or relationship land mines that we've tried to dodge, defuse or survive, here we are. Planning to surrender 80% or more of our stomachs so that we can finally gain control over this one facet of our lives which impacts so many other areas.
We're awesome, and we need to never forget that. Wear your scars proudly; they're proof that you're not defeatable!
Monday, June 3, 2013
One More Hurdle has been Hurdled!
As of today, I have finished all of the pre-op nutritional visits, pre-op tests/lab work, pre-op one-on-one counseling sessions that my surgeon requires! All that I have left are three behavior/lifestyle workshops--one each Tuesday evening for the next three weeks--a surgeon's final follow-up, and a FINAL final surgeon visit with family members so that they know the drill for procedure day, and have everything ready at home for my hospital discharge post-op.
I can't believe how much I've fit into two months. It's been crayzee hectic insane, but it's getting done! I even called the insurance company to make sure I won't get walloped with a huge unexpected bill for anything afterwards, and they reassured me that the most I'll be charged is just over $200, the balance of my annual deductible. Woohoo!
So far, from small dietary changes like incorporating protein shakes at least 1-2 times a day and focusing on reducing carbs and eliminating my 350-calorie coffee every day, I've lost 11 pounds. This is small taters compared to the 90-ish I'm hoping to still lose; but you know what, I'll take every ounce as a small battle won in the Great War to come!
Anyway, progress is being made on several fronts, and that is all good, all the time! How is your WLS journey? Are you just starting out, or have you already nearly won your war?
I can't believe how much I've fit into two months. It's been crayzee hectic insane, but it's getting done! I even called the insurance company to make sure I won't get walloped with a huge unexpected bill for anything afterwards, and they reassured me that the most I'll be charged is just over $200, the balance of my annual deductible. Woohoo!
So far, from small dietary changes like incorporating protein shakes at least 1-2 times a day and focusing on reducing carbs and eliminating my 350-calorie coffee every day, I've lost 11 pounds. This is small taters compared to the 90-ish I'm hoping to still lose; but you know what, I'll take every ounce as a small battle won in the Great War to come!
Anyway, progress is being made on several fronts, and that is all good, all the time! How is your WLS journey? Are you just starting out, or have you already nearly won your war?
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Why So Serious?
Urgh. I can never read that phrase without "hearing" it in the Joker's voice (shudder).
Anywaaaay, I notice that a lot of the time on the forums I frequent for info on VSG, people sometimes take things a wee bit too seriously. Don't get me wrong, I know this is a major life change, not to mention a major surgery, and it deserves respect and serious consideration. I agree with all of that. But every now and then I just want to reply to a thread with "LIGHTEN UP!"
Maybe it's just me.
I love to joke around and look at life from a quirky perspective. Laughter is something I adore, and to be honest, I don't indulge in it often enough, do you? As a teacher, I have to be serious about educating. I can't laugh when one of my students farts or makes a dorky face or a lame joke. I have to be serious in an hour-long meeting every day and a 90-minute meeting 2x a month. Gah. It's no wonder I come home wound up as tight as Granddad's pocket watch.
Laughter is a stress release. It sends endorphins flowing through our brains, which leads us to feel less depressed. It helps us not to sweat the small stuff. It opens our lungs for deeper breaths, which raises our blood oxygen levels, which is good for every cell of our bodies. Go watch the YouTube video of quadruplets laughing at their dad's silly antics, or the one from Sweden, where a baby in a highchair can't stop laughing at his father's wacky noises.
If you can watch either of these without smiling and laughing along, seek help, your sense of humor, eet eez borked.
My favorite idea about laughter is the laughing clubs in India. Have you seen these? People gather every day, in the mornings before work, meeting in public parks. They gather around a club leader who incites everyone to laugh on the count of three. It starts off very forced: "Ho. Ho. Ha. Ha. Ha," and becomes a mass gigglefest--probably because it's so ridiculous that you just can't help but laugh! I think my workday would go along much more smoothly if I were able to have a good solid belly laugh beforehand, don't you?
I think we could all benefit from learning to laugh more and get back in touch with the joy of having a good giggle! Beyond the stress release, there's a good deal of support for the idea that laughing actually benefits our health. You can read more about the ways laughter heals the body right here.
Then go out and spread the giggles, chuckles and belly laughs!
Anywaaaay, I notice that a lot of the time on the forums I frequent for info on VSG, people sometimes take things a wee bit too seriously. Don't get me wrong, I know this is a major life change, not to mention a major surgery, and it deserves respect and serious consideration. I agree with all of that. But every now and then I just want to reply to a thread with "LIGHTEN UP!"
Maybe it's just me.
I love to joke around and look at life from a quirky perspective. Laughter is something I adore, and to be honest, I don't indulge in it often enough, do you? As a teacher, I have to be serious about educating. I can't laugh when one of my students farts or makes a dorky face or a lame joke. I have to be serious in an hour-long meeting every day and a 90-minute meeting 2x a month. Gah. It's no wonder I come home wound up as tight as Granddad's pocket watch.
Laughter is a stress release. It sends endorphins flowing through our brains, which leads us to feel less depressed. It helps us not to sweat the small stuff. It opens our lungs for deeper breaths, which raises our blood oxygen levels, which is good for every cell of our bodies. Go watch the YouTube video of quadruplets laughing at their dad's silly antics, or the one from Sweden, where a baby in a highchair can't stop laughing at his father's wacky noises.
If you can watch either of these without smiling and laughing along, seek help, your sense of humor, eet eez borked.
My favorite idea about laughter is the laughing clubs in India. Have you seen these? People gather every day, in the mornings before work, meeting in public parks. They gather around a club leader who incites everyone to laugh on the count of three. It starts off very forced: "Ho. Ho. Ha. Ha. Ha," and becomes a mass gigglefest--probably because it's so ridiculous that you just can't help but laugh! I think my workday would go along much more smoothly if I were able to have a good solid belly laugh beforehand, don't you?
I think we could all benefit from learning to laugh more and get back in touch with the joy of having a good giggle! Beyond the stress release, there's a good deal of support for the idea that laughing actually benefits our health. You can read more about the ways laughter heals the body right here.
Then go out and spread the giggles, chuckles and belly laughs!
To Tell, or not to Tell, Part Deux.
When I first made my decision to have weight-loss surgery, I was bound and determined that I would keep the choice to myself. Having struggled with my weight almost my entire adult life, I saw no reason to open myself up to criticism or debate on the subject. It's my fat; I'm the one suffering because of it; it's my decision to make, and no one else's.
Since then (gosh, a whole two months ago), I've opened up to my mom and my sister, both of whom have been very supportive. They may have their doubts, but they've kept them to themselves. I'm sure if I asked "are you worried about my WLS" or "do you wish I would just go on a diet", they'd open up about it, buuuuuut why would I do that? ;)
I'm pretty sure that I know more than two people who've chosen weight-loss surgery, but they've opted not to share that knowledge, even when others ask them what their secret is for losing so much weight. They dodge with "well, I'm eating better these days," which would be 100% true after WLS, no doubt!
I don't know yet what I will say when my co-workers ask me. There are those who I know would be sincerely happy for me. Others might be curious and possibly considering surgery for themselves--and perhaps my sharing would be helpful to them. Then there are those who don't really care; they're just eager for gossip fodder.
Will you/have you let anyone in on your VSG/bypass/lapband procedure news? I'm still mulling it over, and I'll just do what feels right when it happens.
Since then (gosh, a whole two months ago), I've opened up to my mom and my sister, both of whom have been very supportive. They may have their doubts, but they've kept them to themselves. I'm sure if I asked "are you worried about my WLS" or "do you wish I would just go on a diet", they'd open up about it, buuuuuut why would I do that? ;)
I'm pretty sure that I know more than two people who've chosen weight-loss surgery, but they've opted not to share that knowledge, even when others ask them what their secret is for losing so much weight. They dodge with "well, I'm eating better these days," which would be 100% true after WLS, no doubt!
I don't know yet what I will say when my co-workers ask me. There are those who I know would be sincerely happy for me. Others might be curious and possibly considering surgery for themselves--and perhaps my sharing would be helpful to them. Then there are those who don't really care; they're just eager for gossip fodder.
Will you/have you let anyone in on your VSG/bypass/lapband procedure news? I'm still mulling it over, and I'll just do what feels right when it happens.
Saturday, June 1, 2013
Have You Tried...
...Panera Bread's "hidden menu" options? I heard about this just the other day, and went to Panera this afternoon to give it a try. Their hidden menu is available nationwide, at every Panera Bread location, and all you have to do is say "I'd like to order from the hidden menu" when you place your order.
The options they offer in the hidden menu seem to be very friendly to sleevers, and probably would be great for any bariatric surgery patient who is back on a normal-food diet. High protein/low carb is the common trend across each item.
Today, I tried the Power Chicken Hummus Bowl. In a bowl large enough to be called a "vat" came a beautiful meal! Baby spinach, sliced chicken breast, diced tomato, slices of cucumber, red onion, and a zingy hummus made with jalapeno and cilantro (I've never seen green hummus before, but it was delicious), finished with half a lemon that you can squeeze over the bowl, and two little packets of extra-virgin olive oil. I didn't use the EVOO but I didn't really need it; the meal was absolutely perfect from beginning to end.
Since I'm still pre-op, I was able to eat almost all of the dish and only needed a little help from my daughter to polish it off. I would guess that after sleeving, I would have PLENTY to take home and eat the following day. I highly recommend checking out the hidden menu at Panera; they also have two breakfast options, and three other lunch/dinner selections. I'll definitely be taking advantage of this restaurant-dining option, pre- and post-sleeve!
Here's a link where you can check out the hidden menu for yourself. Let me know if you try it out; and what you think!
The options they offer in the hidden menu seem to be very friendly to sleevers, and probably would be great for any bariatric surgery patient who is back on a normal-food diet. High protein/low carb is the common trend across each item.
Today, I tried the Power Chicken Hummus Bowl. In a bowl large enough to be called a "vat" came a beautiful meal! Baby spinach, sliced chicken breast, diced tomato, slices of cucumber, red onion, and a zingy hummus made with jalapeno and cilantro (I've never seen green hummus before, but it was delicious), finished with half a lemon that you can squeeze over the bowl, and two little packets of extra-virgin olive oil. I didn't use the EVOO but I didn't really need it; the meal was absolutely perfect from beginning to end.
Since I'm still pre-op, I was able to eat almost all of the dish and only needed a little help from my daughter to polish it off. I would guess that after sleeving, I would have PLENTY to take home and eat the following day. I highly recommend checking out the hidden menu at Panera; they also have two breakfast options, and three other lunch/dinner selections. I'll definitely be taking advantage of this restaurant-dining option, pre- and post-sleeve!
Here's a link where you can check out the hidden menu for yourself. Let me know if you try it out; and what you think!
Thursday, May 30, 2013
I Need More Hellos.
The title of this entry is a quote from Charlie Brown. You remember--the "Peanuts" comic strip? If you're "of a certain age", you'll recall him. Charlie Brown was lamenting that there were too many goodbyes in his life. I can identify with that lately. I'll start by saying that this post has really not much to do with VSG or weight loss--so if you'd rather pass it by, I understand.
In February, my very best friend in the world lost her mother. It was completely unexpected; there was no reason to believe her mother was in anything but excellent health. Her mom was just past 70 years old and looking forward to a long and enjoyable retirement, with travel and grandchildren to keep her busy and happy. Then tragedy struck, and my friend had to deal with not only losing her only remaining parent, but with all the emotional wreckage that comes with being the one to find the body (her Mom died at home, right before a planned outing with her daughter). As an only child, she had to navigate the ins and outs of funeral planning and tie up many loose ends that hadn't fully been discussed--after all, her Mom was healthy and expecting to be around for a good long while. That was a hard goodbye for my friend; and it was heartbreaking to watch her suffer. She's a strong and vibrant lady, and she'll make it through--with the love and support of her two amazing kiddos and a husband who loves her deeply. But it was certainly a difficult goodbye nonetheless.
My own father died two days ago. His story couldn't be more different from that of my friend's mom. My dad's health hadn't been what anyone would call "good" for many years. In my childhood, he had hypertension and gout, just to name two afflictions. He ate what he wanted, and was "a big guy" most of his life. In later years, he started smoking, and developed tremors that made it hard for him to hold a glass or a fork. While in his 60s, he could have easily been mistaken for a man at least a decade older.
For my dad, the turning point for his health issues was when his own sister, the baby sister of his clan, passed away from aggressive lung cancer when she was only 40 years old. This sent him into a downward spiral; he started exhibiting symptoms of bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. He would go days without eating or sleeping; he'd hear voices and talk back to them; he decided that his supervisors at work were plotting against him and left his job--after 30 years of work. Without his income, my mother lost the house where they raised three daughters together. He became belligerent, then threatening. He frightened my youngest sister and my mother with his behavior. Eventually, understandably, the marriage had to end. My mother picked up the pieces and started over.
From there, my dad become a bit transient. Living first with his brother in an apartment, collecting disability, and not taking his medications reliably without supervision, he ended up having to leave that living arrangement after the two of them became periodically violent/abusive toward one another. He lived with my middle sister out of state for a time. Then he went into a series of nursing homes. His behavior, although moderated with medication, was not always manageable, and he had to leave one nursing home after another due to his tendency to start fights or become physically confrontational with staff.
I distanced myself from him, to try to keep my emotional well-being intact. I had a difficult relationship with my father for years, while growing up and afterwards. We butted heads constantly. I felt completely misunderstood and unloved, unwanted; probably because I was adopted and saw myself as "not a real" daughter, especially whenever there were sibling rivalries that I came out on the losing end of. The truth is that I was probably not very loveable when I was at my angriest and most stubborn; and he didn't know how to reach me, or how to express his love for me. The fact that I interpreted this as a lack of caring isn't really fair; but it is the emotional landscape I lived in for many years. Additionally, his behavior scared and angered me. He once stalked my mother at her workplace, literally jumping out of the bushes to accuse her of cheating on him. She ended up taking out a restraining order for a while, to keep herself safe. Having run up against his temper many times in my youth, I was furious that he would ever target my mother that way, and I mentally and emotionally washed my hands of him. Although I was civil towards him on the rare occasions that we saw one another, I stopped wanting him as a parent. I let my middle sister take over his guardianship with a sense of relief, knowing she would do what needed doing; they were close and she could provide much better care than I could. I walked away, without doubt or guilt.
At least, I thought I had. Turns out the ties that bind run a lot deeper than I had surmised.
Last week, he was hospitalized in the ICU for aspirating food. On his second day there, he was awake and alert enough to recognize visitors and mumble a few words now and then. Seeing him reduced to a shell of his former self really shook me.
I took a deep breath and said, "I love you, Dad." He looked me in the eye and said "I love you, too."
Stunned, I had to turn away and collect myself for a few minutes. Later in the visit, I said it again. So did he.
I said it a third time. He did, too.
In that hospital visit, we probably expressed our love for each other more times that we had done so in the previous ten years.
My father died two days ago, in a morphine-induced sleep, at the age of 68. I wasn't by his side when he passed, but my mom and baby sister were; for which I am very grateful. There will be no funeral, no memorial, according to his wishes. He will be cremated and his ashes sent a thousand miles from here, to be kept by my middle sister's daughter, with whom he shared a special kind of closeness. I won't have a grave to visit or a eulogy to listen to. There won't be flowers or hymns. Part of me is really upset about that; but if it's what he wanted, I have to put my own expectations aside as part of honoring his memory. It's his journey; he gets to leave in the way he wanted. It's my job only to wish him Godspeed, and I do.
It's not the goodbye I expected it to be. It hurts more than I thought it would. I am struggling with a lot of emotional baggage, and I hope I'll be able to put it down and step back from it soon; but right now it seems to be heaviest at unexpected moments. Sometimes it crashes down on my head; kind of like carry-on luggage in a plane's overhead compartment, that's shifted during the trip. The door pops open when I'm unprepared, and wallops me with heavy bags that I thought were safely tucked away.
I need more hellos, but first I need to come to a place of peace with this goodbye.
In February, my very best friend in the world lost her mother. It was completely unexpected; there was no reason to believe her mother was in anything but excellent health. Her mom was just past 70 years old and looking forward to a long and enjoyable retirement, with travel and grandchildren to keep her busy and happy. Then tragedy struck, and my friend had to deal with not only losing her only remaining parent, but with all the emotional wreckage that comes with being the one to find the body (her Mom died at home, right before a planned outing with her daughter). As an only child, she had to navigate the ins and outs of funeral planning and tie up many loose ends that hadn't fully been discussed--after all, her Mom was healthy and expecting to be around for a good long while. That was a hard goodbye for my friend; and it was heartbreaking to watch her suffer. She's a strong and vibrant lady, and she'll make it through--with the love and support of her two amazing kiddos and a husband who loves her deeply. But it was certainly a difficult goodbye nonetheless.
My own father died two days ago. His story couldn't be more different from that of my friend's mom. My dad's health hadn't been what anyone would call "good" for many years. In my childhood, he had hypertension and gout, just to name two afflictions. He ate what he wanted, and was "a big guy" most of his life. In later years, he started smoking, and developed tremors that made it hard for him to hold a glass or a fork. While in his 60s, he could have easily been mistaken for a man at least a decade older.
For my dad, the turning point for his health issues was when his own sister, the baby sister of his clan, passed away from aggressive lung cancer when she was only 40 years old. This sent him into a downward spiral; he started exhibiting symptoms of bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. He would go days without eating or sleeping; he'd hear voices and talk back to them; he decided that his supervisors at work were plotting against him and left his job--after 30 years of work. Without his income, my mother lost the house where they raised three daughters together. He became belligerent, then threatening. He frightened my youngest sister and my mother with his behavior. Eventually, understandably, the marriage had to end. My mother picked up the pieces and started over.
From there, my dad become a bit transient. Living first with his brother in an apartment, collecting disability, and not taking his medications reliably without supervision, he ended up having to leave that living arrangement after the two of them became periodically violent/abusive toward one another. He lived with my middle sister out of state for a time. Then he went into a series of nursing homes. His behavior, although moderated with medication, was not always manageable, and he had to leave one nursing home after another due to his tendency to start fights or become physically confrontational with staff.
I distanced myself from him, to try to keep my emotional well-being intact. I had a difficult relationship with my father for years, while growing up and afterwards. We butted heads constantly. I felt completely misunderstood and unloved, unwanted; probably because I was adopted and saw myself as "not a real" daughter, especially whenever there were sibling rivalries that I came out on the losing end of. The truth is that I was probably not very loveable when I was at my angriest and most stubborn; and he didn't know how to reach me, or how to express his love for me. The fact that I interpreted this as a lack of caring isn't really fair; but it is the emotional landscape I lived in for many years. Additionally, his behavior scared and angered me. He once stalked my mother at her workplace, literally jumping out of the bushes to accuse her of cheating on him. She ended up taking out a restraining order for a while, to keep herself safe. Having run up against his temper many times in my youth, I was furious that he would ever target my mother that way, and I mentally and emotionally washed my hands of him. Although I was civil towards him on the rare occasions that we saw one another, I stopped wanting him as a parent. I let my middle sister take over his guardianship with a sense of relief, knowing she would do what needed doing; they were close and she could provide much better care than I could. I walked away, without doubt or guilt.
At least, I thought I had. Turns out the ties that bind run a lot deeper than I had surmised.
Last week, he was hospitalized in the ICU for aspirating food. On his second day there, he was awake and alert enough to recognize visitors and mumble a few words now and then. Seeing him reduced to a shell of his former self really shook me.
I took a deep breath and said, "I love you, Dad." He looked me in the eye and said "I love you, too."
Stunned, I had to turn away and collect myself for a few minutes. Later in the visit, I said it again. So did he.
I said it a third time. He did, too.
In that hospital visit, we probably expressed our love for each other more times that we had done so in the previous ten years.
My father died two days ago, in a morphine-induced sleep, at the age of 68. I wasn't by his side when he passed, but my mom and baby sister were; for which I am very grateful. There will be no funeral, no memorial, according to his wishes. He will be cremated and his ashes sent a thousand miles from here, to be kept by my middle sister's daughter, with whom he shared a special kind of closeness. I won't have a grave to visit or a eulogy to listen to. There won't be flowers or hymns. Part of me is really upset about that; but if it's what he wanted, I have to put my own expectations aside as part of honoring his memory. It's his journey; he gets to leave in the way he wanted. It's my job only to wish him Godspeed, and I do.
It's not the goodbye I expected it to be. It hurts more than I thought it would. I am struggling with a lot of emotional baggage, and I hope I'll be able to put it down and step back from it soon; but right now it seems to be heaviest at unexpected moments. Sometimes it crashes down on my head; kind of like carry-on luggage in a plane's overhead compartment, that's shifted during the trip. The door pops open when I'm unprepared, and wallops me with heavy bags that I thought were safely tucked away.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Tried My First Protein Powder Today...
One of my co-workers generously brought me a ziploc sample of some protein powder that she and her husband use, so that I could do my first test run of protein drinks.
This particular one is called Dymatize Elite Whey Protein; today I tossed some chocolate-flavored powder into a bottle of Dasani water while at work. I realize that going "shakeshakeshake" with a bottle is a little low-tech, and maybe a good blender, with some ice or frozen fruit, will improve the overall experience.
If I had to critique it, I'd say it's probably a 7 on a palatability scale. A little gritty--but again, that's most likely due to the lack of blending options available to me here at work. The most off-putting thing was the scent. I wasn't anticipating the wafting aroma, which really reminds me of infant formula. If I can get past that, it's not so bad. I've finished almost 8 oz. without too much "bleah" factor. Not sure how a week or two of liquids post-op is going to go, but it probably won't be much fun. Sigh.
I still have a baggie of vanilla-flavored powder; my colleague recommends adding a dollop or two of Chobani vanilla yogurt and some frozen fruit. I'm thinking that sounds reeeeeally good. I'll let you know how it goes!
What protein shakes do you prefer? Post them in the comments!
*****Updated to Add******
So, I drank about 8 oz. of the chocolate protein shake at around noon. Maybe it's a "head thing", but rather than feeling my usual urge to snack right after work (3:00 p.m.), I was able to hold off comfortably and not feel hunger until nearly 4:30. That's kind of amazing for me. Usually, I am SO hungry when the day ends that I just have to get something to stave off the tummygrowls. Today I came home, grabbed some water and a lowfat string cheese--which is probably 75% less food than I'd normally nosh after work.
Veddy eenteresting...will have to see if this trend continues!
This particular one is called Dymatize Elite Whey Protein; today I tossed some chocolate-flavored powder into a bottle of Dasani water while at work. I realize that going "shakeshakeshake" with a bottle is a little low-tech, and maybe a good blender, with some ice or frozen fruit, will improve the overall experience.
If I had to critique it, I'd say it's probably a 7 on a palatability scale. A little gritty--but again, that's most likely due to the lack of blending options available to me here at work. The most off-putting thing was the scent. I wasn't anticipating the wafting aroma, which really reminds me of infant formula. If I can get past that, it's not so bad. I've finished almost 8 oz. without too much "bleah" factor. Not sure how a week or two of liquids post-op is going to go, but it probably won't be much fun. Sigh.
I still have a baggie of vanilla-flavored powder; my colleague recommends adding a dollop or two of Chobani vanilla yogurt and some frozen fruit. I'm thinking that sounds reeeeeally good. I'll let you know how it goes!
What protein shakes do you prefer? Post them in the comments!
*****Updated to Add******
So, I drank about 8 oz. of the chocolate protein shake at around noon. Maybe it's a "head thing", but rather than feeling my usual urge to snack right after work (3:00 p.m.), I was able to hold off comfortably and not feel hunger until nearly 4:30. That's kind of amazing for me. Usually, I am SO hungry when the day ends that I just have to get something to stave off the tummygrowls. Today I came home, grabbed some water and a lowfat string cheese--which is probably 75% less food than I'd normally nosh after work.
Veddy eenteresting...will have to see if this trend continues!
Why am I NOT asleep...
Yikes. I have been staying up MUCH too late recently. I'm a night owl by default, and left to my own devices (such as school vacations, etc.), I will stay up till sunrise doing things I enjoy. Reading, watching the movies of my youth (who can sleep when "The Princess Bride" is on?!) or blogging; trawling up and down my newsfeed on Facebook...yep. That's me. Livin' on the EDGE. ::cue Aerosmith::
Considering that I get up for work at around 5:45 a.m., there's no earthly reason for me to be awake right now. I think it's sheer stubbornness, really. In my twisted little mind, I spend about 12 hours or so doing stuff I dunwanna do. Working, errand-ing, etc. When I have "me time", I cling to it and suck the sweet, sweet marrow from its crunchy center. It's like putting a toddler to bed to get me to turn out the lights and surrender.
VSG thoughts for the day are pretty much standard issue. Excitement, worry, shades of hysteria, hope, you name it. On Monday, I have my first "NUT" appointment, as they say on the VST forums. (NUT = nutritionist. Hey, I don't make up the abbreviations, I just use them.) I need to finish my food diary--bleargh--and make sure I have everything else ready. Should be interesting. What I hope is that it isn't a preachy good-health session brought to me by a chirpy, thin twenny-sumpin' slip of a girl. We shall see!
Guys. I'm still hoping to see commentary from you, whether you're just breezing through or reading everything I've posted so far. Lemme know if what I write clicks or clunks for you. Share your ideas. Give me a pat on the back or a pie in the face, doesn't make no nevermind to me! Happy Thursday--let's get that weekend ushered in, shall we?
Off to get horizontal before sunrise...
Considering that I get up for work at around 5:45 a.m., there's no earthly reason for me to be awake right now. I think it's sheer stubbornness, really. In my twisted little mind, I spend about 12 hours or so doing stuff I dunwanna do. Working, errand-ing, etc. When I have "me time", I cling to it and suck the sweet, sweet marrow from its crunchy center. It's like putting a toddler to bed to get me to turn out the lights and surrender.
VSG thoughts for the day are pretty much standard issue. Excitement, worry, shades of hysteria, hope, you name it. On Monday, I have my first "NUT" appointment, as they say on the VST forums. (NUT = nutritionist. Hey, I don't make up the abbreviations, I just use them.) I need to finish my food diary--bleargh--and make sure I have everything else ready. Should be interesting. What I hope is that it isn't a preachy good-health session brought to me by a chirpy, thin twenny-sumpin' slip of a girl. We shall see!
Guys. I'm still hoping to see commentary from you, whether you're just breezing through or reading everything I've posted so far. Lemme know if what I write clicks or clunks for you. Share your ideas. Give me a pat on the back or a pie in the face, doesn't make no nevermind to me! Happy Thursday--let's get that weekend ushered in, shall we?
Off to get horizontal before sunrise...
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
The Agony and the Ecstasy
Urgh.
Waiting and prepping for VSG ain't for sissies. I keep hoping the back-and-forth pendulum swing of excitement, doubt, worry, anticipation, excitement, repeat ad nauseam will stop--or at least slow down--but so far, no go. It's a great way to make yourself feel pretty well discombobulated. Don't get me wrong, I am still all in favor of the need for this surgery. It's not a passing interest, and I am doing my best to educate myself and absorb all the information I can about the multiple ways my life and eating habits MUST change in order for me to have any long-term success, post-op.
That's my agony. The waiting, the anticipatory worry. The not knowing exactly when this all will fall into place so that I can say, "my operation date is _____________" and make all the arrangements I need to make ahead of time. Right now, we're in the hurry-up-and-wait phase. Crayzee making, is what it is. Deprived of hard, cold information, my imagination goes haywire and sets me up for stressing over all the things I can't possibly control. Like worrying over complications; worrying about inevitable hair loss; worrying over whether I'll be a relatively fast healer (as I was for each of my Cesarean sections a decade and a decade and a half ago), or whether I'm going to still be feeling like the north-pointing end of a south-walking cow weeks after I'm home. Worrying over what my operation date is going to be, and whether I'll be able to heal quickly enough to be at 100% efficiency when school reopens in September. Ideally, I want my procedure done during the summer--but whether or not that happens is dependent on things like how quickly I'm able to get through all the appointments and classes that are required, which, again, I can't really control; I have to take 'em when they're available.
Achieving a zen-like calm is not as easy as you might think.
The ecstasy is at least not making me toss and turn at night. Mostly, I'm ecstatic about the way I hope to feel and look, a few months post-op. A year afterwards, I'm expecting to have the BEST summer ever. I intend to get out in the world, go to the beach during actual operating hours instead of waiting until after dinnertime so that fewer people see me in a bathing suit. I'm wondering what it might feel like to be able to buy gorgeous renfaire garb in a much smaller size, what it might be like to be SO proud of how I look in a narrower bodice, and maybe even wear a *gasp* calf-baring skirt. To be able to buy boots that aren't made for "wide calves". To be able to shop for work clothes and jeans and cute tops at a store that ISN'T plus sizes only. Wow.
That ecstasy is going to be what I cling to when I'm in pain, when I'm questioning my choice; when I'm feeling overwhelmed by new eating rules, when I'm tempted to make old, familiar, bad eating choices and avoid exercise. I'm going to keep the image of a more slender me right up in front of my eyes, even before it's real. And that's how I'm gonna make it become real.
What do you cling to for mental strength and motivation? Comments, please!
Waiting and prepping for VSG ain't for sissies. I keep hoping the back-and-forth pendulum swing of excitement, doubt, worry, anticipation, excitement, repeat ad nauseam will stop--or at least slow down--but so far, no go. It's a great way to make yourself feel pretty well discombobulated. Don't get me wrong, I am still all in favor of the need for this surgery. It's not a passing interest, and I am doing my best to educate myself and absorb all the information I can about the multiple ways my life and eating habits MUST change in order for me to have any long-term success, post-op.
That's my agony. The waiting, the anticipatory worry. The not knowing exactly when this all will fall into place so that I can say, "my operation date is _____________" and make all the arrangements I need to make ahead of time. Right now, we're in the hurry-up-and-wait phase. Crayzee making, is what it is. Deprived of hard, cold information, my imagination goes haywire and sets me up for stressing over all the things I can't possibly control. Like worrying over complications; worrying about inevitable hair loss; worrying over whether I'll be a relatively fast healer (as I was for each of my Cesarean sections a decade and a decade and a half ago), or whether I'm going to still be feeling like the north-pointing end of a south-walking cow weeks after I'm home. Worrying over what my operation date is going to be, and whether I'll be able to heal quickly enough to be at 100% efficiency when school reopens in September. Ideally, I want my procedure done during the summer--but whether or not that happens is dependent on things like how quickly I'm able to get through all the appointments and classes that are required, which, again, I can't really control; I have to take 'em when they're available.
Achieving a zen-like calm is not as easy as you might think.
The ecstasy is at least not making me toss and turn at night. Mostly, I'm ecstatic about the way I hope to feel and look, a few months post-op. A year afterwards, I'm expecting to have the BEST summer ever. I intend to get out in the world, go to the beach during actual operating hours instead of waiting until after dinnertime so that fewer people see me in a bathing suit. I'm wondering what it might feel like to be able to buy gorgeous renfaire garb in a much smaller size, what it might be like to be SO proud of how I look in a narrower bodice, and maybe even wear a *gasp* calf-baring skirt. To be able to buy boots that aren't made for "wide calves". To be able to shop for work clothes and jeans and cute tops at a store that ISN'T plus sizes only. Wow.
That ecstasy is going to be what I cling to when I'm in pain, when I'm questioning my choice; when I'm feeling overwhelmed by new eating rules, when I'm tempted to make old, familiar, bad eating choices and avoid exercise. I'm going to keep the image of a more slender me right up in front of my eyes, even before it's real. And that's how I'm gonna make it become real.
What do you cling to for mental strength and motivation? Comments, please!
Sunday, April 28, 2013
I'm still pre-op, and still feeling pretty new to the entire VSG process, so I'd like to hear from you about your experiences so far.
Tell all of us about it in the comments section!
Hope your weekend has been a great one--brace yourselves, Monday is coming. *sigh*
- If you could tell a noob like me only THREE things-- to remember about the journey, to do either pre-or post-op, or to understand about VSG, what would they be?
- What are your favorite ways to beat the old, bad habits that brought you to needing VSG?
(Do you exercise to distract yourself? Eat healthier snacks when you're craving greasy/sweet ones? Have you taken up a new hobby to replace boredom eating?)
Tell all of us about it in the comments section!
Hope your weekend has been a great one--brace yourselves, Monday is coming. *sigh*
Saturday, April 27, 2013
My Post-Op Promise.
***Cross Posted from the VST Forums***
My post-op promise (for when I get there):
Well, I could say I swear to forever and always give up sweets and carbs, but I know myself, and that's not realistic. One day, post-op, I will indulge in a nibble or two, and be able to step away from the sugars.
I could say I swear to work out for two hours a day, 7 days a week, but unless I've fallen through a rip in the time-space continuum into an alternate universe, I'm gonna have to go with "nope" on that as well.
But here's what I can promise. I solemnly swear not to be one of those post-WLS folks who feel so pleased with their own success and progress that they then look down on obese people who haven't made changes. I will never hate on any non-WLS person.
What makes me say this right now? (Apart from the fact that I'm just not that mean?) I've been reading around the internet, looking at WLS blogs that are scattered across various sites, reading Facebook profiles that were linked to the authors of those blogs, and stumbled across someone's public Facebook photo of an extremely obese woman who was out running her errands (shopping and whatnot). This woman most likely had NO idea she was being photographed, and the picture is certainly not flattering. The caption mentioned how the photographer felt "sick to their sleeve" after looking at the obese lady.
Wow.
Now, I don't know the photographer from Adam's left ox; I just happened to stumble across them while internet-wandering, and they had publicly posted photos--the pics weren't hidden in any way. I clicked away from that Facebook profile feeling sad and disgusted that someone who bragged about conquering their food challenges and accepted lots of public back-patting for it would then skewer another human being who hasn't been able/brave enough/informed enough to take the same steps.
So, I am publicly promising never, EVER, to be that catty and smug about whatever progress this tool brings my way. I will never, EVER judge someone else who isn't on the same path as my own. Weighing less won't turn me into a rude or obnoxious person, any more than being heavy makes me one.
You can all hold me to it.
My post-op promise (for when I get there):
Well, I could say I swear to forever and always give up sweets and carbs, but I know myself, and that's not realistic. One day, post-op, I will indulge in a nibble or two, and be able to step away from the sugars.
I could say I swear to work out for two hours a day, 7 days a week, but unless I've fallen through a rip in the time-space continuum into an alternate universe, I'm gonna have to go with "nope" on that as well.
But here's what I can promise. I solemnly swear not to be one of those post-WLS folks who feel so pleased with their own success and progress that they then look down on obese people who haven't made changes. I will never hate on any non-WLS person.
What makes me say this right now? (Apart from the fact that I'm just not that mean?) I've been reading around the internet, looking at WLS blogs that are scattered across various sites, reading Facebook profiles that were linked to the authors of those blogs, and stumbled across someone's public Facebook photo of an extremely obese woman who was out running her errands (shopping and whatnot). This woman most likely had NO idea she was being photographed, and the picture is certainly not flattering. The caption mentioned how the photographer felt "sick to their sleeve" after looking at the obese lady.
Wow.
Now, I don't know the photographer from Adam's left ox; I just happened to stumble across them while internet-wandering, and they had publicly posted photos--the pics weren't hidden in any way. I clicked away from that Facebook profile feeling sad and disgusted that someone who bragged about conquering their food challenges and accepted lots of public back-patting for it would then skewer another human being who hasn't been able/brave enough/informed enough to take the same steps.
So, I am publicly promising never, EVER, to be that catty and smug about whatever progress this tool brings my way. I will never, EVER judge someone else who isn't on the same path as my own. Weighing less won't turn me into a rude or obnoxious person, any more than being heavy makes me one.
You can all hold me to it.
Saturdaze, and the Living is Easy.
I love love love the weekends. It's my unwind/de-stress/de-tox from the week time. I sleep late--one of the joys of having two teenagers is that they love sleep almost as much as I do; gone are the days of 7:00 a.m. "Mommmmmm, I'm hungryyyyyy" calls from the living room.
The weather here has finally realized it's spring, and today the sky is a brilliant Wedgwood blue. It's the kind of day that makes you happy to be alive. At least until you realize there's a mound of laundry big enough to be best friends with Marjory the Trash Heap from Fraggle Rock. Sigh. Looks like the only other colors I'll be staring at today will be the ones in the laundry basket, while I separate them from the whites. Wheee!
I don't know how often you've wandered through the blog-o-verse, looking for WLS blogs, or blogs about healthy eating, but so far I've found two that I am head-over-bellyflab in love with. I thought I'd pass them along, in case you might find them interesting, too.
One, called The Waning Woman, is a journal of one sassy Texan lady's progress with her gastric vertical sleeve surgery (the same operation I'm gearing up for). I absolutely LOVE her writing style; she tells it like it is with sass and humor and good grace, whether the scale does what she wants every day or not. Reading her blog is what inspired me to start this one. (And I mean that once I read her first entry, I could NOT stop reading until I finished every entry--from 2010 till 2013. It's THAT good.) Go check her out!
The other of my favorites so far is The World According to Eggface. Shelly has the classic gastric bypass; the one most people probably think of first when they hear "weight loss surgery". Her experience with living post-op has led her to create her blog, with tons and TONS of healthyyummyeasy recipes suitable for weight loss surgery patients. I want to hurry up and get to post-op solid food eating LIKE RIGHT NOW, so I can start trying her recipes on my sleeve! (Patience was never my strong suit, but come on, you go look at her food photos and try telling me your mouth doesn't start waterin'.)
I'm so grateful for these resources, along with the Vertical Sleeve Talk forums--they have already helped me to envision a life after surgery. Despite my periodic fears and neurotic worries about the entire thing, I find a lot of comfort in the knowledge that every step of the way, I have no reason to feel like I'm struggling on my own. Someone--in fact, LOTS of someones--has been down a similar path, and they are incredibly willing to offer the wealth of their experiences with new people. It's pretty damn inspiring. Oh, and if you're not a sleever, but you're maybe a gastric bypass or lapband patient, there's forums for you too! Start at MyBariatricPal and you can find your specific procedure's forums from there.
That's really the reason for this blog. I'm hoping to not only put my thoughts and emotions "out there" to help me work through 'em; I would LOVE for my ramblings to offer support and solutions for anyone else who is also working their way to better health through WLS.
So, in the interest of casting information as widely as possible, imma share a video that I saw yesterday on the Waning Woman's blog. It's about an hour long--I know, but I promise, it's WORTH IT--and it will turn a blazing spotlight on the way our bodies really work when it comes to weight gain and weight loss. Please watch it, and share it along to your friends, too!
The weather here has finally realized it's spring, and today the sky is a brilliant Wedgwood blue. It's the kind of day that makes you happy to be alive. At least until you realize there's a mound of laundry big enough to be best friends with Marjory the Trash Heap from Fraggle Rock. Sigh. Looks like the only other colors I'll be staring at today will be the ones in the laundry basket, while I separate them from the whites. Wheee!
I don't know how often you've wandered through the blog-o-verse, looking for WLS blogs, or blogs about healthy eating, but so far I've found two that I am head-over-bellyflab in love with. I thought I'd pass them along, in case you might find them interesting, too.
One, called The Waning Woman, is a journal of one sassy Texan lady's progress with her gastric vertical sleeve surgery (the same operation I'm gearing up for). I absolutely LOVE her writing style; she tells it like it is with sass and humor and good grace, whether the scale does what she wants every day or not. Reading her blog is what inspired me to start this one. (And I mean that once I read her first entry, I could NOT stop reading until I finished every entry--from 2010 till 2013. It's THAT good.) Go check her out!
The other of my favorites so far is The World According to Eggface. Shelly has the classic gastric bypass; the one most people probably think of first when they hear "weight loss surgery". Her experience with living post-op has led her to create her blog, with tons and TONS of healthyyummyeasy recipes suitable for weight loss surgery patients. I want to hurry up and get to post-op solid food eating LIKE RIGHT NOW, so I can start trying her recipes on my sleeve! (Patience was never my strong suit, but come on, you go look at her food photos and try telling me your mouth doesn't start waterin'.)
I'm so grateful for these resources, along with the Vertical Sleeve Talk forums--they have already helped me to envision a life after surgery. Despite my periodic fears and neurotic worries about the entire thing, I find a lot of comfort in the knowledge that every step of the way, I have no reason to feel like I'm struggling on my own. Someone--in fact, LOTS of someones--has been down a similar path, and they are incredibly willing to offer the wealth of their experiences with new people. It's pretty damn inspiring. Oh, and if you're not a sleever, but you're maybe a gastric bypass or lapband patient, there's forums for you too! Start at MyBariatricPal and you can find your specific procedure's forums from there.
That's really the reason for this blog. I'm hoping to not only put my thoughts and emotions "out there" to help me work through 'em; I would LOVE for my ramblings to offer support and solutions for anyone else who is also working their way to better health through WLS.
So, in the interest of casting information as widely as possible, imma share a video that I saw yesterday on the Waning Woman's blog. It's about an hour long--I know, but I promise, it's WORTH IT--and it will turn a blazing spotlight on the way our bodies really work when it comes to weight gain and weight loss. Please watch it, and share it along to your friends, too!
Watch 10 Things You Need To Know About Losing Weight on PBS. See more from KPBS Presents.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
In a shameless act of reposting something funny that I read elsewhere on the 'net, I will now shamelessly repost something funny that I read elsewhere on the 'net.
In the interest of full disclosure, it's from a blog on the verticalsleevetalk.com website, called "Gastric Sleeve Surgery - An Unexpected Journey", where the blogger was relaying great comeback-answers for how to explain weight loss surgery scars to any busybodies you may encounter post-op. They were giggleworthy enough that I had to share a few of my favorites!
So where'd you get those scars?
And my #1 favorite...*drum roll*
If you are a pre-or post-sleever, do check out www.verticalsleevetalk.com, it's a great community with lots of friendly people who are willing to share their stories with us noobs. Can't have too much of that, can ya? Got any snarky comebacks like those above to share? There's always room for some playful snark at my table--post the snappy patter below in the comments section!
In the interest of full disclosure, it's from a blog on the verticalsleevetalk.com website, called "Gastric Sleeve Surgery - An Unexpected Journey", where the blogger was relaying great comeback-answers for how to explain weight loss surgery scars to any busybodies you may encounter post-op. They were giggleworthy enough that I had to share a few of my favorites!
So where'd you get those scars?
"The first rule of Fight Club is 'don't talk about Fight Club'."
"Remember when your mom told you not to run with scissors?"
"I was at this party with Marilyn Manson and everyone was giving out hugs."
"Oh these? Hmm, I dunno, they’ve just always been there. Well, I mean, ever since I took over this body, anyway. Strange, don’t you think?"
And my #1 favorite...*drum roll*
"Tell them you are trying to avenge your father and ask if they have six fingers on their right hand."I swear, I WILL use that one, at any given opportunity. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
If you are a pre-or post-sleever, do check out www.verticalsleevetalk.com, it's a great community with lots of friendly people who are willing to share their stories with us noobs. Can't have too much of that, can ya? Got any snarky comebacks like those above to share? There's always room for some playful snark at my table--post the snappy patter below in the comments section!
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Spring has Sprung--Sorta. *squish squelch drip*
It's a dreich day here in the House of SleevahDiva. (Find your favorite Scotsman to figure out that word, iffin you don't already know.) I dont' know about you, but the weather often affects my mood; in the winter I have a mild--or at least tolerable--case of Seasonal Depressive Disorder. I don't go around wearing sackcloth and ashes, or shoving little old ladies and small children off of busy curbsides, but I do feel...just...meh, from December till March. One-third of my life is a little too much to feel generically blah, but it lifts like clockwork, as soon as we make the time change and "spring ahead". (Like clockwork. See what I did there? Wokka-wokka!)
Spring in New England is kind of a myth. We have several weeks of pseudo-spring, a time when Old Man Winter gets rigor mortis and refuses to let us out of his dead, scraggly, frostbitten grasp. Then comes Mud Season. It rains, looks gray, clears for a minute or two (often at night; Mother Nature's humor is fiendish sometimes), then rains some more. Usually right around the time you're considering converting the lawn furniture in storage into a green, plastic ark, the leaves suddenly erupt from every branch and bud. This, of course, ushers in Pollen Season. During those couplethree weeks, you pray for rain to return and rinse away the yellow tree-sex dust. Hay fever's red, watery eyes become a fashion accessory, and post-nasal drip is de rigeur. Then it becomes humid and swampassery abounds--ah, New England summer.
So, yeah. I'm guessing we're on the cusp between Mud and Pollen.
In other news, today I made a few more appointments related to the VSG pre-op process. My first and second psychology evaluations are set to go in about two weeks. Then right after my second psych visit, I have an ultrasound and EKG the following day. A week and a half after that, I'll have my second nurse-practitioner visit. Whew! That's probably more medical evals and office visits in a single month than I've had in the last decade or so. (Ummmmyeah, I haven't always been a reliable patient when it came to annual checkups. See also: Reasons My Health Could Be Better Than It Is.)
I can't decide if this pre-surgery stage is clunking along slower than a wheezing, backfiring jalopy, or flying by at ultra warp speed. There's SO much to take in, so much to wrap my brain around, and sometimes I'm worried that I can't possibly absorb and process it all.
I know that I'll probably have tough days that make me wonder if surgery is/was the right decision for me, but I don't want to decide that I made a mistake. When I'm brutally honest with myself, I know to my fat-buried bones that I'm not going to make enough changes on my own. I've given up on being the yo-yo diet girl. No more losing twenty and regaining forty-six, or losing thirty-two and regaining fifty. So, that means either I keep doing what I'm doing--i.e., NOTHING--and continue expanding till someone needs to knock out a wall and hire a crane to pry my fat bee-hyne out of my house for my funeral, or I accept that if there is going to be any help for me, it has to include something as "drastic" as WLS. I'm not going to find lasting success any other way; and if I don't find that success, my obesity will kill me. Kill me dead. Steal me from my children and my loved ones, and cheat me of time that could have been spent together. It might happen in a year or in fifteen, or maybe I'll make it to retirement; but I won't live my full measure of years, and it will be due to my poor choices coming home to roost, with me unequipped to un-roost them in time to make a difference. My fat will put me in the ground, if I don't take this step.
Every time I find myself in doubt, I need to remember that. The clock is ticking, no moment that passes will ever return, and there's a chance for me to rescue myself. All I have to do is be brave enough to grab it.
I can do this. I must.
What keeps you motivated and sure of your course? Tell me in the comments section!
Spring in New England is kind of a myth. We have several weeks of pseudo-spring, a time when Old Man Winter gets rigor mortis and refuses to let us out of his dead, scraggly, frostbitten grasp. Then comes Mud Season. It rains, looks gray, clears for a minute or two (often at night; Mother Nature's humor is fiendish sometimes), then rains some more. Usually right around the time you're considering converting the lawn furniture in storage into a green, plastic ark, the leaves suddenly erupt from every branch and bud. This, of course, ushers in Pollen Season. During those couplethree weeks, you pray for rain to return and rinse away the yellow tree-sex dust. Hay fever's red, watery eyes become a fashion accessory, and post-nasal drip is de rigeur. Then it becomes humid and swampassery abounds--ah, New England summer.
So, yeah. I'm guessing we're on the cusp between Mud and Pollen.
In other news, today I made a few more appointments related to the VSG pre-op process. My first and second psychology evaluations are set to go in about two weeks. Then right after my second psych visit, I have an ultrasound and EKG the following day. A week and a half after that, I'll have my second nurse-practitioner visit. Whew! That's probably more medical evals and office visits in a single month than I've had in the last decade or so. (Ummmmyeah, I haven't always been a reliable patient when it came to annual checkups. See also: Reasons My Health Could Be Better Than It Is.)
I can't decide if this pre-surgery stage is clunking along slower than a wheezing, backfiring jalopy, or flying by at ultra warp speed. There's SO much to take in, so much to wrap my brain around, and sometimes I'm worried that I can't possibly absorb and process it all.
I know that I'll probably have tough days that make me wonder if surgery is/was the right decision for me, but I don't want to decide that I made a mistake. When I'm brutally honest with myself, I know to my fat-buried bones that I'm not going to make enough changes on my own. I've given up on being the yo-yo diet girl. No more losing twenty and regaining forty-six, or losing thirty-two and regaining fifty. So, that means either I keep doing what I'm doing--i.e., NOTHING--and continue expanding till someone needs to knock out a wall and hire a crane to pry my fat bee-hyne out of my house for my funeral, or I accept that if there is going to be any help for me, it has to include something as "drastic" as WLS. I'm not going to find lasting success any other way; and if I don't find that success, my obesity will kill me. Kill me dead. Steal me from my children and my loved ones, and cheat me of time that could have been spent together. It might happen in a year or in fifteen, or maybe I'll make it to retirement; but I won't live my full measure of years, and it will be due to my poor choices coming home to roost, with me unequipped to un-roost them in time to make a difference. My fat will put me in the ground, if I don't take this step.
Every time I find myself in doubt, I need to remember that. The clock is ticking, no moment that passes will ever return, and there's a chance for me to rescue myself. All I have to do is be brave enough to grab it.
I can do this. I must.
What keeps you motivated and sure of your course? Tell me in the comments section!
Monday, April 22, 2013
To Tell or Not to Tell?
Another question for veterans of weight-loss surgery, and those who are considering it:
Would you/Did you tell people in your life about your surgery? Beforehand, afterwards, both or neither?
Part of me is pretty sure it's really nobody's damn business. The other part of me says "yeah, but if not for hearing success stories and encouragement from people who'd had the surgery, I wouldn't be on this path, so why not share it? Maybe I can pay it forward..."
There are people in my family that I won't be telling beforehand; mostly because they will get so wound up and anxious themselves that it will set up a cycle of angst. Their anxiety will lead them to question my choices, which will make me defensive, which will make them more upset, yadda yadda. Better to keep it to myself until it's a done deal. At least, that's how I feel about it at the moment; maybe I'll change my mind and want to tell everyone, I really don't know yet.
What was/is your policy about telling people about your WLS?
Would you/Did you tell people in your life about your surgery? Beforehand, afterwards, both or neither?
Part of me is pretty sure it's really nobody's damn business. The other part of me says "yeah, but if not for hearing success stories and encouragement from people who'd had the surgery, I wouldn't be on this path, so why not share it? Maybe I can pay it forward..."
There are people in my family that I won't be telling beforehand; mostly because they will get so wound up and anxious themselves that it will set up a cycle of angst. Their anxiety will lead them to question my choices, which will make me defensive, which will make them more upset, yadda yadda. Better to keep it to myself until it's a done deal. At least, that's how I feel about it at the moment; maybe I'll change my mind and want to tell everyone, I really don't know yet.
What was/is your policy about telling people about your WLS?
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Is it Possible to Have Buyer's Remorse BEFORE Making the Purchase?!
Whew. Just finished reading an 11-page forum thread titled "Would You Have WLS Again"? It's definitely a hot topic, with people passionately defending both the "FUCK yeah" and "hell NO" sides of the issue.
After reading some of the concerns from the "no way" camp, I've succeeded in freaking myself out a good bit. I really hope I don't end up with deep, lasting regrets. I'm funny that way; sometimes I bounce back after a disappointment, other times I fall into a huge slump over things that go poorly.
I need to do my best to make sure I'm going into this procedure with both eyes wide open. I could end up with complications. I could be staying longer in the hospital than I expected. I could have any number of long-term issues, not least of which is death. (It doesn't get much more long-term than that, does it?)
Well, as someone far wiser than myself once noted, "the wee hours of the morning are no time to make life-changing decisions." So I'll go tuck myself in to bed and percolate on all this for now. Good night--erm, good morning, technically.
After reading some of the concerns from the "no way" camp, I've succeeded in freaking myself out a good bit. I really hope I don't end up with deep, lasting regrets. I'm funny that way; sometimes I bounce back after a disappointment, other times I fall into a huge slump over things that go poorly.
I need to do my best to make sure I'm going into this procedure with both eyes wide open. I could end up with complications. I could be staying longer in the hospital than I expected. I could have any number of long-term issues, not least of which is death. (It doesn't get much more long-term than that, does it?)
Well, as someone far wiser than myself once noted, "the wee hours of the morning are no time to make life-changing decisions." So I'll go tuck myself in to bed and percolate on all this for now. Good night--erm, good morning, technically.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Hospital Bag Wish List--Never Too Soon to Plan!
Just on the off chance that a few VSG/WLS people wander on through here at some point, I'd like to make a request.
If you're post-op, scroll down to the comments and list the thing(s) that you would consider absolute must-haves for your hospital stay. Right now, I'd say "OMGIjustGOTTAhavemylaptopANDmyNookANDmycellphone", but...I'm guessing that's not utterly practical.
So, what do you consider essential to bring along for those few days? Clue me in!
If you're post-op, scroll down to the comments and list the thing(s) that you would consider absolute must-haves for your hospital stay. Right now, I'd say "OMGIjustGOTTAhavemylaptopANDmyNookANDmycellphone", but...I'm guessing that's not utterly practical.
So, what do you consider essential to bring along for those few days? Clue me in!
I'm A Self-Sabotage Overachiever.
I just read a pretty great article called Avoiding All Or None Thinking, and it resonated with me like one of those gigantic Chinese gongs. Not only have I often been my own worst enemy when it comes to weight gain and trying to lose weight, but I have to agree with the article--I've often sabotaged my own damn self by setting my standards impossibly high.
Case in point: every time I resolve to excercise, if I actually follow through and DO the workout, I am never satisfied with doing the normal 20 or 30 minute process. Nope. I have to push myself to the absolute limit. If I'm doing a DVD workout that tells me to use 5-lb. hand weights, I gotta be Workout Badass Girl and grab 10-lb. weights PLUS ankle and wrist weights. If I convince myself to go out for a walk, then I'm speed walking as fast as I can for at least 80% of the time. If I dust off my ancient "Sweatin' to the Oldies" tapes and Richard Simmons chirps at me to "go get two soup cans" to use as light hand weights, you know my dumb ass is raiding the cupboards for the Sam's Club-sized, feed-the-entire-congregation, #10 cans of cling peaches in heavy syrup and duct-taping them to my sweaty paws. Then, when I wake up the next day, feeling like I've been run over by a tank brigade in my own personal Battle of the Bulge(s), I throw a pity party for how much it hurrrrrrts. By the time the soreness and stiffness wanes, I've usually made up my mind to avoid EVER exercising again.
It's a pretty brilliant (if rather warped) strategy, really. I'd make the effort--nay, I would make MORE of an effort than any rational human could possibly expect of me--then I'd wallow in self-pity while simultaneously gloating that I had worked SO hard; and then I'd flounce away, feeling justified in giving up. Food would be my consolation prize for the way exercise had betrayed me.
And that's just one aspect of the entire self-sabotage campaign. I have been known to follow that all-or-nothing mindset in choosing what I eat during a diet, in following the guidelines of whatever program I happen to be on that time around, and in measuring my progress. Every time the results bit me in my expanding butt, EVERY time the scale stopped moving, or (gasp!) moved in the wrong direction, I would wallow and flounce. The usual result was that I gained back everything I had lost, and then some, which only fed my negative attitude about my body.
If I am going to move forward and become a successful sleever--and I SHALL--it's pretty apparent that I am going to have to drop my all-or-nothing mindset in the biohazard bucket, along with 80% of my stomach. I'm going to have to be my own biggest fan, buy some pompoms, and recruit myself to lead Team Diva's cheering squad. Learn to accept setbacks (even the ones that are minor) with grace and resolve, rather than hissy fits and Hagen-Dazs. That may be the biggest challenge of all, but I'm determined to make it!
What have your mental stepping stones and attitude stumbling blocks been? Tell me about it in the comments!
Case in point: every time I resolve to excercise, if I actually follow through and DO the workout, I am never satisfied with doing the normal 20 or 30 minute process. Nope. I have to push myself to the absolute limit. If I'm doing a DVD workout that tells me to use 5-lb. hand weights, I gotta be Workout Badass Girl and grab 10-lb. weights PLUS ankle and wrist weights. If I convince myself to go out for a walk, then I'm speed walking as fast as I can for at least 80% of the time. If I dust off my ancient "Sweatin' to the Oldies" tapes and Richard Simmons chirps at me to "go get two soup cans" to use as light hand weights, you know my dumb ass is raiding the cupboards for the Sam's Club-sized, feed-the-entire-congregation, #10 cans of cling peaches in heavy syrup and duct-taping them to my sweaty paws. Then, when I wake up the next day, feeling like I've been run over by a tank brigade in my own personal Battle of the Bulge(s), I throw a pity party for how much it hurrrrrrts. By the time the soreness and stiffness wanes, I've usually made up my mind to avoid EVER exercising again.
It's a pretty brilliant (if rather warped) strategy, really. I'd make the effort--nay, I would make MORE of an effort than any rational human could possibly expect of me--then I'd wallow in self-pity while simultaneously gloating that I had worked SO hard; and then I'd flounce away, feeling justified in giving up. Food would be my consolation prize for the way exercise had betrayed me.
And that's just one aspect of the entire self-sabotage campaign. I have been known to follow that all-or-nothing mindset in choosing what I eat during a diet, in following the guidelines of whatever program I happen to be on that time around, and in measuring my progress. Every time the results bit me in my expanding butt, EVERY time the scale stopped moving, or (gasp!) moved in the wrong direction, I would wallow and flounce. The usual result was that I gained back everything I had lost, and then some, which only fed my negative attitude about my body.
If I am going to move forward and become a successful sleever--and I SHALL--it's pretty apparent that I am going to have to drop my all-or-nothing mindset in the biohazard bucket, along with 80% of my stomach. I'm going to have to be my own biggest fan, buy some pompoms, and recruit myself to lead Team Diva's cheering squad. Learn to accept setbacks (even the ones that are minor) with grace and resolve, rather than hissy fits and Hagen-Dazs. That may be the biggest challenge of all, but I'm determined to make it!
What have your mental stepping stones and attitude stumbling blocks been? Tell me about it in the comments!
Friday, April 19, 2013
Golly, it's an awfully long one for my first time! ::insert "that's what she said" punchline here::
So.
Here I am. And there you are. Hello, by the way. Thanks for stopping in and joining me on this little circus of the macabre---I MEAN MY FIRST BLOG ENTRY. Yes, that. I warn you, I'm a wordy gal. I intend to use this blog to help me document and work my way through the life changes that loom on my horizon, and I tend to do that with a lot of wordage. Be warned: if a tweet makes you want to say "TL; DR" and run, this will probably make you want to scoop your eyebulbs out with a rusty melon baller. I may not always be so wordy, but when I have a lot on my mind, I yammer. I blither and I babble. Welcome!
Let's get started, shall we?
A couplethree months ago, I was talking (well, textchatting, but you don't really care about that distinction all that much, do you?) to my good friend Itsi. This is--quite obviously--not her real name, but I've known her that way for years, so the name works quite well. Itsi has been an inspiration to me along those years of friendship. Although we are separated by a large distance in terms of miles, she has always been among my very favorite people.
Itsi started a journey of her own, a year or two ago, and she's come so amazingly far, that it brainboggles me to contemplate it. It's her story, so I won't presume to tell it, but in a shiny little nutshell, Itsi took a big step toward regaining health and happiness. She opted for a vertical sleeve gastrectomy, sometimes known as a VSG, other times known as "scalpel-induced banana-sling-stomach'ing" or somesuch.
As time passed, I watched as the shy and blazingly witty girl I knew began shedding her cocoon. Layer by layer, pound by pound, she physically melted away, and her soul shone through her smile in a way I had never before witnessed. She started living her life--really LIVING it. Taking photos where she smiled in FRONT of the lens, not hid behind it. Wearing adorable clothing. Regaining energy and wringing every day dry of possibility. My envy was palpable (and I say that with love). I wanted that. You know, that. That inner light, that joy of self-acceptance. I resolved that it couldn't happen, though. I wasn't a surgery candidate, I was just a girl with a love of carbs who needed some self-restraint. Okay, a lot of self-restraint. Whatever.
Also in my collection of treasured friends is another brave soul, who I'll lovingly dub Miss Flaca for the duration of this little blogproduction. Flaca is a talented artist and educator. If I could be a student in her room, I'd never, ever leave school. Seriously, they'd have to keep giving me #2 pencils and black composition notebooks and a backpack full of Depends that I could strap to my walker. I would NEVER leave.
Miss Flaca, too, has taken a dazzling leap of faith, combined with determination and hard work. She had a Roux-en-Y gastrectomy (also known as a gastric bypass), after years of struggling with her weight. I watched Flaca as she seemed to melt away, week in and week out, month after month. Her eyes, too, seemed to take on a new sparkle. She could light the darkest night with the power in one of her smiles. She seemed to be so much...happier. (Maaaaan, I want to be that happy! When's the last time I really was that happy?)
Just as Itsi had, Miss Flaca became a new and radiant young lady. Again, I considered taking the same path, but...no. Surgery, me? Not possible. I mean, I didn't have any health issues, I was just "fluffy". I was just "a big girl with a pretty face". I was just "plus sized". I was just fucking fat was what I was, and getting fatter; and what's more, I was miserable. I hated shiny surfaces for showing me just how large I was; I hated my clothes for seeming to slowly, but inexorably, shrink of their own accord. I hated that I was tired all the time, that stairs were a chore and my chin was rapidly developing a conjoined twin. One big wobbly ball of self-loathing, yup, that was me. (Pass the carbs, please, I need my comfort food.)
Eventually, my doctor prescribed me a low dose antidepressant to try to help me out of the constant state of Eeyore-blahs I was carrying around. (The dog ate them before I could take 'em--long story. Suffice to say that after racing to save my furbaby's life at an emergency vet, I never did end up taking those antidepressants.) Then my body began to betray me further. My knees hurt. My back ached. I blamed the old mattress and aging. My hormone balance went wacky. I blamed that one on my age, too, even though no women I knew of in my entire family had ever hit menopause in their early 40's. I had heartburn; first, only with spicy foods. Then, only if I ate too quickly. Then, only if I didn't sit up straight after meals. Then, even when I drank water. So I blamed stress. I blamed everything except what was the real source of my aches, pains, and gray moods: my weight.
Meanwhile, other friends and even work acquaintances were taking the steps Itsi and Miss Flaca had. I began thinking mmmmmaybe, just mmmmmmaybe, I should at least consider my options. Maybe my doctor would give me a good ol' fussin' out and send me packing with some low-calorie sweetener, egg substitute and a prescription for situps. But, then again...
So I approached both my heroes, Itsi and Miss Flaca, as well as a few other friends. Not one person told me to mind my own business. Not one got offended. Instead, I found this rock-solid source of support and encouragement, wrapped in excitement to see me willing to take that big step, too.
Well, maybe. Cautious curiosity was the order of my day.
But you know what? Slowly, ever sooooo slowly, I realized that I wanted more from my life than what I was getting. Year after year of making dieting resolutions, swearing to exercise more (ha! Try "at all"). Losing a few pounds here and there, or maybe even many of them, then watching as they all returned, AND brought friends and relations to stake their claim to my hips, butt, thighs, and let's not forget the Chin Twins.
So, one day, I told Itsi, "I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna call, and see what they tell me. I probably won't qualify. My insurance probably won't cover it. It's probably a big waste of time. But I'm gonna do it."
And I did. I called. It was the toughest phone call in a very long time, but I made my fingers tap those little virtual keys, and I did it. I attended a bariatric surgery seminar, then three days later, found myself in my very first surgeon consultation.
Mind = blown. (Am I really doing this? Looks like I am!)
And that brings us to today. The day of my consult, which went fine--I DO qualify for the surgery, and my insurance DOES cover it. Apart from having to hear aloud the dreaded digits of my relationship to gravity, it was fine. I mean, c'mon, *I* know I'm fat, everyone else can see that I'm fat, so going to a doctor to help me deal with my fat was actually no big deal. Very different from a basic physical, where I would pray that the doctor would just sorta skip over that part of the file and talk to me about something else. Like the political situation in the Mideast, anything, dear God, anything but "hmmn, you seem to have put on a few pounds since your last exam, can you think of any reason for that". This time it was just the facts, ma'am. No dodging, no pressure to explain how, why or wherefore the scale said what it did. It said it, it was noted, we moved on. IT WAS AWESOME. Even better, I had the support of Miss Flaca, who's been thurr, done thet with this exact doctor, even though her procedure was a lil' different. Between her and Itsi, I feel surrounded by friends who can help me through, whether I need a shoulder to cry on or a kick in the butt.
That's love, you guys, that's love.
This is only my very first step. I have a loooooong road ahead of me, I know that. At least, I know it in that vague way of knowing that you have when you haven't actually lived through it yet. I'll know it better and know it more, later on. That's fine with me, for now. I can't look too far down the road; right now I just need to keep my lil' piggy toes scootin' forward, a step at a time.
My whole life has been about gaining. Most of the gains were good ones; I gained experiences, I gained friends, I gained abilities and talents. But that one gain that's been holding me back SO hard for so damn long is about to start becoming a loss.
I can't wait to start. Hope you'll tag along, and if you do, I'd like to hear from you. Thanks for being here.
--Vixy, the Soon-to-be-Sleeved-Diva
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)