Lowest Known Adult Weight

211.0!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This morning!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I did it.  I’m still in a little bit of shock.

My lowest known adult weight was 212.2 on 10/24/05.  It was a few months after I became only the second person in my family to graduate college with at least an Associate’s degree.  But, I actually had two of them and on my way to a Bachelor’s degree.  I also was getting divorced.

The regain was slow–10 pounds in the following two years–but it did happen.  Then I remarried in 2008, found out he was clinically insane (no, really like the stuff of horror movies), got divorced again, was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, and gained over 50 pounds in four months as the side effects of the medication took hold.

I went from healthy and active to disabled and gaining weight I didn’t earn in less than eighteen months.

It was heart-wrenching.

Then in 2010, I kicked the medications to the curb and demanded my life back.

It’s been a long, slow journey to here and I absolutely know having weight loss surgery was the right tool for me and my body.

I have been curious how I would feel about getting here.  I have lost all the weight of those painful moments and have arrived at a weight when I felt my most triumphant.  I was curious if that feeling would return too.

It has.

It’s taken me just less than two months to lose 11 pounds so I’m giving myself two months to lose 11.1 pounds and see 199.9.

Onederland…you’re mine.Goals Quote

 

 

Four Months–The End, The Beginning, But Really Barely The Middle

Yeah, I know that makes one huge heap of sense.  Please allow me to explain.

The End: I have decided to fire my surgery practice.  I’ll try to give you the Cliff’s Notes style story.  My surgeon repaired a hiatal hernia and despite me asking no less than six times, in and out of the hospital, I was NEVER informed and therefore received no aftercare instructions or alterations to the diet plan.  I only found out when I received a bill for charges not covered by the insurance company.  Then last week there was a HIPPA violation when I was sent a lab order for another patient.  If I wasn’t already fuming, that sent me to my outer orbit.  There’s just no amount of anything that is going to make this right.  It means I have to give up my AMAZING nutritionist and that almost makes me want to collapse into a pile of tears.  She’s helped me more than anyone in my whole nearly 13 year weight loss story.  However, the irony is by all appearances the hernia repair has been a failure since the moment I started asking about it.  I’ll be having a barium swallow and complete upper GI series next week to confirm it.

The old me would have just swept this all under the rug but the new me keeps asking myself: “What are the consequences to your progress if you try to hold on to this obviously broken situation?”  I don’t want to find out.  I have spent the past few months ‘fixing’ myself of all the moments I tried to puzzle together the good bits and doing my best to tip-toe around the bad ones.  The best part of all of this is I feel zero need to fix it.  It’s broken.  I didn’t break it so it’s not up to me to run around trying to make it all better.  End of story.

The Beginning: I want to draw my line in the sand and move forward.  Four months ago today I drew a different line in the sand when I had surgery.  It’s not like I can go back and change it, right?  So my job is to continue to move forward.  Today is a different sort of new beginning.  My only concern about moving forward is losing my nutritionist.  Oh I have the food part down and she even agrees.  The scary part is I have a weird body and she’s known exactly how to fix it.  No one has been able to do that for me.  Ever!  I have 12 years of diet failure so it’s not like I haven’t been begging and pleading for help all along the way either.  Fortunately, I have also learned a lot.  I know how to fuel my body.  I just need to hold on to the hope that God and the Universe will continue to place the helpers I might need in my path…and to not go crazy waiting for them to show up.  Today, I am moving forward all alone and all for me.

Barely The Middle:  Here’s the truth: I am two months shy of the halfway point on what is often referred to as the “Golden Window” by many bariatric specialists and patients.  The Golden Window is that magical first year where everything is easy–metaphorically–meaning the bulk of the excess weight comes off as long as the patient is doing her, or his, part.  Sure there are bumps along the way but the first year is very similar to the rapid change in the life of an infant.  Growth. Milestones.  I am not about to let anyone fuck with it.  This is my journey dammit.  My goals haven’t changed.  Of course, it has been feeling like everything is upside down but after a few moments of wildflower therapy on top of a gorgeous mountain it all became clear: I am upset about what happened…not where I have been or where I am going.  Huge difference.  My choice then is to let all the past die where it is and focus on MY GOALS!!!!!!!!!!!  Oh there will be fallout as the surgeon discovers what has happened because in my absolute heart of hearts I cannot imagine he knows but that fallout is the natural consequences running their course.  My goals are independent of the outcome…

Wait, how did I get this strong…

In My First 100 Days

I have planned this post for quite some time but I’m just finishing it up this morning.  It’s too hot to sleep with the desert southwest under a heat advisory–111 degrees today–so I might as well wrap this up before I decide too much time has passed and it feels lame.

My 100th day home from the hospital was Saturday June 18.

It seems unreal.

When I had 100 days before surgery, it felt like time was crawling.

But isn’t that always the way?

So what has the first 100 days brought me?

Let’s start with the obvious:

50.9 pounds of weight lost
3.8-percent body fat lost
25.25 inches lost (measuring right limbs only)
4 jean sizes down
3 shirt sizes down
3 dress sizes down
1-1.5 shoe sizes (yes, for reals and depending on the shoe)
2.25 pounds of muscle GAINED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Those are all measurable outcomes and they are completely mind blowing to the point I knew I had to frame them in this context.  I needed to write this out because I need to see it so much more than I need to share it.  I know my fellow WLSers totally understand how the brain and body are so out-of-sync especially at the beginning.

But what else have I seen, done, heard, and felt in these first 100 days?

The inside of a swimming pool…
I can hold Tree Pose again…
“Slow down…you’re walking too fast.”  (It’s hilarious to me actually)…
I have little baby abs starting to poke out from under my ‘melon’ of belly fat…
My rib cage…(but when I lay on my back there’s a good size depression)
My son said, “Mom…You’re getting some guns.”
I can do a forward fold and put 3/4 of palm on the floor…
I jumped across a small ditch but it was wider than my leg span so it was a full jump…
Realizing just how utterly amazing my nutritionist is…
My commitment to keep my goals health-focused rather than scale focused is stronger…
I can wash my whole back…(with a jacked shoulder this is a big deal)
A greater sense of confidence in the whole of my journey…
I trust my body…(so weird after all these years of putting in the work without reward)…
Less to almost zero acne …(46 years old and I can FINALLY stop using zit cream)
The positive changes it’s had on my family’s attention to their own health…
How many times I did NOT resort to food when faced with unimaginable stress…
That I actually learned to like water…(most days, most days…lol
That I haven’t needed to be perfect one million percent of the time…
I want to do squats…

I could probably do this for an hour or more but I think this is a good list to hold on to.

My point is having weight loss surgery does change the number on the scale but it also changes you and those around you in so many ways that cannot be quantified or anticipated.  I am grateful 99.99-percent of the changes in my body, life, relationships, and world have been positive.  So grateful!!!

It has definitely not been all sunshine and daisies.  It’s been a lot of hard work and making choices I would have rather not like getting that next bottle of water to go down or fixing myself a meal slightly different than the one I cooked for my family.  But, isn’t that the junction of success…doing the things you know are wise and prudent even when you would really rather not?

I love this quote by Jim Rohn and think it absolutely applies to the post-op life.

Jim Rohn Quote

This Month Was Better

In case you don’t remember, last month my home-from-the-hospital anniversary ended up being rather emotional.

My progress was stalling.

My body felt off.

The old, familiar feelings of “WHY, WHY, WHY…isn’t this working?” were swirling.

Thankfully, I recognized and honored those feelings and decided to share them with my seriously amazing nutritionist.  Through a chain of emails we pinpointed the suspected culprit in my diet and eliminated it immediately.  Ten days after discontinuing the preservative-laden lunch meat my body felt like it was getting back to normal–yep, a protein…a legal, nutritionist-approved protein–knocked my body out of whack and ground my progress to a halt.

I didn’t assume I was in a natural stall.

I listened to my body.

I did NOT listen to people who were telling me I should just ‘be happy’ with my progress so far or that I was being too hard on myself.  They haven’t lived in this body so there’s no way they could know but I couldn’t help but wonder maybe they were right.

Instead, I asked for help with confidence I was right something was wrong.

I found solutions.  Simple, simple, simple solutions to get me back on track.

I’ve been trying to lose weight for over a decade and have experienced a similar scenario more times than I can count but I have never had the level of professional support I have now and for me that is what is making all the difference.

Yes, having a vertical sleeve gastrectomy helped.  A lot.

BUT…

Without the custom attention of my brilliant nutritionist, I wouldn’t be where I am now.

I like it here.

I like the success I’m having.

I really like how almost predictable it is.  It’s only almost predictable because let’s face it…autoimmune disease is a roller coaster of crazy body blowouts…but I have been able to wrangle my body back into submission faster than ever.

I like having confidence in myself and my body.

I have never experienced any of this on previous attempts.

This…weight loss surgery…was the right tool for ME.

After last month’s experience, I also learned something new.  Despite my attempts at non-nonchalance, the remembrance of the day I came home from the hospital does matter to me.

It is a natural benchmark.  But, there is no requirement for me to have any emotional investment whatsoever.  I certainly do not need to be freaking myself out with goals, celebrations, photos, or anything else.

After last month, I decided I didn’t want to do that to myself again.  So, I didn’t.

This month instead of piling a heap of expectations on the day I barely let it register including moving my three month check up from the day before ‘the day’ to the week after.

You know as well as I do had I driven to Las Vegas the day before my body would have swelled up like a toad.  It always does.  Bodies with chronic venous insufficiency do not like to be captive in a car.  I would have stepped on the scale the next morning feeling defeated.

Seriously, who needs to ‘celebrate’ what has become a very positive step in recapturing my health with feeling betrayed by one’s own body?

Not this girl.

Not any more dammit!!!

Instead I realized I am super close to some milestones and so I tightened up my eating and made sure I was really holding myself to the line and I lost the most last week. 3.2 pounds, since lunch meat decided to go rogue in my guts.

Let me just tell you…

THAT FEELS BETTER!!!!

Not just because 3.2 pounds is nearly SEVEN TIMES what my non-wls surgery good weeks looked like but because I focused on what I could do.

Such a simple, subtle change.

I am now exactly one pound from losing 45 pounds since coming home from the hospital.

I have never, not even when I was lifting over 100 pounds in the gym, have I lose 45 pounds in a single year.  Probably not even in two years.

Then I’m exactly 8.6 pounds away from achieving my lowest known adult weight.

In between, there’s the 50 pound milestone.

It’s not just the poundage.

I’m down 3.4-percent body fat too.

For most people, you need to lose 7-12 pounds of body weight to lose 1-percent body fat.  What that means is I am losing mostly fat and retaining my metabolically active tissue aka muscle.  What that means is even though some people might call weight loss surgery the ‘easy way out,’ I am managing to keep my body’s metabolism from being destroyed by rapid weight loss (Have you seen the Biggest Loser studies?)

And, I sashayed into Old Navy on Friday and could zip every single pair of size 18 jeans I pulled even though while in the act of pulling them I was steeling myself for disappointment.

No more ‘big girl’ clothes!!!!!

I did take a peek at my measurements a few days ago but stopped when I saw I had lost over an inch from my waist since my last check three weeks ago.  I was trying to surprise myself…and I did…but now I want to wait until the day before my check-in for the full surprise.

I owe myself that much.

Do you know how crazy cool that feels to know and accept it too?

Adoring Your Body

 

 

Un-Goals

On 7 January I started my, My Fitness Pal, account.  I had been faithfully using Fitday for over a decade but it had become a reminder of all the failing-to-lose past I knew I needed to break from it and start fresh.

On that presumably blustery day in January, I put in a goal weight even though I am NOT interested in being any one number on the scale. Ever.

But, it’s a number. It’s something to shoot for and something to mark my progress against. And, today I am so glad I did I let myself believe, if just for a moment, that number would be possible.

Because…

Today when I logged this morning’s scale wiggle in My Fitness Pal, it told gave me a celebratory message to announce I have made 51-percent of the progress toward that goal-but-not weight.

I’m just shy of my 3-month appointment.

Okay, let me pause and let that sink all the way in.

Blinking hard.

Disbelief.

Shock.

Surprise.

Amazement.

Wet-eyed smile.

Never. In. A. Million. Years….Did I think I could get to this point this fast.

Honestly, even sitting in my surgeon’s office four months ago I did not really believe having weight loss surgery was going to work.

I didn’t believe it.  But, I knew I had to try.

I am so grateful I found the courage and the oomph to try as hard as I have with everything else I have tried.

(In case you’re a new reader…I’m really only interested in having a healthy body fat percentage and for women my age it’s between 10-32 percent.  But scales are readily available in doctors’ offices so I have to at least be friends with the number they show me.)

Time. Real Change Takes Time

11 Days…It took ELEVEN DAYS for my body to get back on track after discontinuing the lunch meat for my body to say, “Okay, we can lose again now.”

First, I’m thrilled!!! I knew things would start moving again simply because they had been going so well. In some ways, these 2.2 pounds feel better than the some of the 40 I’ve already lost because they’re the first I really had to work for.

Second, my the big point I want to make is even when you identify things that might be slowing your progress and you make the necessary positive changes you have to be extra diligent and patient while your body is healing from the ‘damage’ you have done. It all happens so innocently enough too. For me, it was lunch meat.

If you’re struggling there IS a reason and it’s a whole heap of work to figure it out.

Do it.

Don’t quit.

In my case, it’s been a lot of reasons over the course of 14 years. But I haven’t given up.

Not that I’m a fan of the BMI chart but I’m also under 40 for the first time in I don’t even know how long.

Of course I also owe my amazing nutritionist a huge thank you!  She is literally changing my life!  Yes, I know I’m doing the work but to not be fumbling around in the dark trying to figure it out on my own IS life changing.

So many people interested in weight loss surgery focus on the surgeon and having a good surgeon is important but if the rest of the practice especially the nutritionist is not fully invested in your success you could end up with a less than stellar experience.  Your nutritionist should be your lifeline as you learn to navigate the post-op world.  It is her or his job to help you through those stuck moments.

Are you reaching out?

Are you listening and responding to your body?

My surgeon created the tool that is a vertical sleeve gastrectomy.

My nutritionist is the one schooling me in the fine art of using it to my best advantage and helping me take my complete medical history into consideration as I make food choices.

Knowing the difference is success like I have never known it.

Weight loss surgery was THE BEST DECISION I have ever made for my health.

Ever.

Hands down.

Even before the scale moved, yesterday was my best, healthiest feeling day in two weeks.

Yesterday, I hoped the scale would move but I was also sure it was going to move. And, I have to admit it caused me to pause. I have never felt this much confidence in my body’s ability to lose weight in my entire life.

I’m so glad the scale is catching up to the work I’ve been putting in.

I cannot fully express how amazing it feels.

The changing numbers are awesome but to being doing the work AND getting results was elusive, at best, before surgery.  Now, I have confidence.

Amazing!

 

And She Slows Down Long Enough To…

Tell you…

IT DID HAPPEN!!!

The morning of my nutrition class, 3 May 16, I hit…

228.4!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Uh, huh.

Oh yeah.

Can I get a woot, woot?

Happy Dance.

However…

Traveling to Las Vegas on the third set off a firestorm of busy.

My hubs business took another leap forward, with my amazing help, and we’ve been scrambling to put our ducks in the proper, proverbial row.

Hubs is locked up tight at his weekend job so I’m going shoe shopping.

I wore my black loafers with the denim skirt I wore on our first date.  I am about falling out of them both.  Oh and I’m wearing my black knee high compression socks.  Yeah.  With a skirt.

I must say it’s not a look I would not have pulled for myself but I have happen to become fond of it.  The mini-ish skirt, the knee highs, and the loafers just work with my lower half.  I guess maybe I have to admit the compression socks are mostly responsible for pushing me to it.

Could it be I actually have to admit I like them?

“Umm, No.”

*Laughing Hysterically*

But, my daughter also agreed it’s a look that just works for me so maybe, just maybe, I do need to stop being such a snot about the ‘evil’ stockings and appreciate their place in my life.

Although, one of my goals is to no longer need them.  Ever.  Again.

Socks and compression aside we found a rockin’ and totally me pair of Adidas at Ross.

IMG_20160507_101425[1]

Shoe shopping aside…

It’s been a long busy week of being outside of my routine which means I haven’t been as on top of taking my water pill as I ‘should’ be.  Sigh.  Of course, this means the scale is inching up and I need to take the day to stick close to home.  And, that ‘should’ word is dogging me again.

Should is an asshole who is only there to bring me down.  As much as I know that I’ll be damned if I didn’t start ‘should-ing’ myself into feeling bad about how the week played out.

No.

Stop.

This has been a GREAT week.

Busy, yes.

But part of figuring out my new life is learning how to make everything work.  Because sometimes it is road trips, unexpected blessings which bring bigger To Do lists, and on the extra special weeks it is also polka dotted sneakers.

It’s about learning when to say ‘YES’ and when to say ‘I need to do this for me (even though I have other things I ‘should’ be doing’), it’s wearing compression socks, taking water pills, and holding still enough to eat slowly, finding time to write, using a timer to remember to drink and having snuggle time with my doggies.

I found a way to have it all this week.

Feels good!

 

 

 

The Reliability Of Your Inner Voice Should Be Suspect

As most of you know I’m a writer.  Today I am going to share with you something all writers experience.  It’s called the ‘inner editor’.

If you’re not a writer you might not understand writing and editing are not the same thing.  Not even close.

The writer is creative.

The editor is corrective and sometimes bent on destructive.  Self-editing especially while writing is also highly unreliable.

For the writer to truly edit her work she needs distance from the project and also knows to never attempt editing when she’s feeling emotional, discouraged, or just plain bitchy.  Good writers know self-editing is a minefield and just how often the inner critic is a liar.

Oh gee, doesn’t that sound like the inner ‘fat’ person who hasn’t quite caught up to the outer thinner person?

Of course!

Self Criticism

Last week it was raining so I took the opportunity to try on my favorite blazer.  I have had it around 10 years.  For the last eight or years so I have only been able to wear it a handful of times so I was beyond thrilled when it fit.  It was even loose in the arms.  Of course, I had to take a selfie.

IMG_20160415_162216[1]

As proud as I was to be standing there in all my blazer fitting glory, when my daughter came over a few hours later and said…

“Mom…with your arms down…it’s actually too big for you…look see…right there,” as she pointed to my waist.

My brain had a hissy fit.

It’s not too big.

It can’t be too big.

She’s just being nice.

She’s lying.

“Oh well thanks for being so generous sweetie.”

“No mom, I’m serious.”

I couldn’t handle it.  I did not know how to handle it.  The former bigger girl within wasn’t ready to listen.

Then a few days later I tried on a pair of mesh-y capri workout pants.  You know that fabric that is used for basketball shorts?  It’s that heavier material not the thinner yoga type.  Anyway, they’re this lovely shade of yellow-orange that’s almost fluorescent.

“Honey, BE HONEST…Can you see my cellulite?”

“Babe, I don’t know how to tell you this but your cellulite is almost gone?”

“Shut up…it is not.”

“Honey…listen to me…it is almost gone and no what’s left is not showing.”

I rolled my eyes convinced my sweet hubs was lying to me.

And the inner bigger girl went on with the smack talk about my lumpy, bumpy, bulbous thighs.

Just so you know they were over 31 inches EACH when I started my journey and they were riddled with cellulite.  These are not ‘cottage cheese’ these are ‘cheese curd’ bumps and lumps.  And, I have a life-long hatred for them.

For him to say those curds were almost gone was inconceivable.

Two days later I slid those same unforgiving capris on and checked my backside in the mirror.

“Well whattaya know,” I said aloud while I stood there flummoxed and blinking in disbelief.

The backs of my legs are about 75-percent smoother.  It’s really unbelievable.  It feels more out-of-body than real.  The front side still has a ways to go but the point is I couldn’t see, I couldn’t feel, I couldn’t appreciate my daughter’s unsolicited assessment or my hubs solicited one because my inner bigger self has not caught up to my outer thinner self.

I need to tell that inner big girl to shut up in the same way I tell my inner editor to shut up.  I can get rather mean to my inner editor and feel okay about it because I have confidence in my writing ability.

My inner big girl…umm…she’s a bit more fragile.  Okay, a lot more.  Who am I trying to kid.  That part of me still has a lot of healing to do.

So today I decided to slide on my white jeans.  I’ve been toting them around longer than the blazer.  But, these white jeans are much more sacred.

You see these are the jeans I was wearing the day I found out my divorce attorney had absconded with my $1,000 retainer, moved to out of state without telling me, and would not be in court to represent me.  I had to fire him over the phone in open court and agree to represent myself if I wanted to get divorced that day.  After two years of my children’s father dragging it out and being an ass I needed to be done right then and there.  These jeans and I went to work rebuffing each of my ex’s objections to the terms of our divorce.

These jeans are part of one of the most badass days of my life.

I kicked my ex-husband’s attorney’s ass wearing these jeans.

I’m talking to the point the judge’s mouth kept gaping in disbelief.

I might not be fully feeling the outward changes to my body but I’m definitely remembering the fierceness of that day.

I am basking in the strength of the white-jean-wearing woman…while I’m reminding myself that 33+ pounds in 43 days is also badass.

IMG_20160422_103136[2]

And…

The truth is to keep from sabotaging my progress I have to help my inner critic catch up to where my body is today…breathing and trying to be present.

Hello non-scale victory!!!

I am wearing white jeans with a waist band loose enough that fresh out of the dryer I could still fit my whole fist in the gap…HELL YAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!

My inner critic can shut up today.

Her opinions are not valid.

 

Feelin’ A Bit Off…The Next 25ish Pounds

So if you’ve been following along you know I hit what I call my ‘fibromyalgia weight’ four days ago.

Honest to hell nothing clicked in my brain on any day prior to Sunday to warn me I was inching ever closer to the number I have been fighting for, for the past two years.  The shock of seeing it has left me in a funky, funk ever since.

Fighting.

I have been fighting to reclaim my body from the weight Lyrica and Cymbalta piled on for over TWO YEARS.  And thanks to weight loss surgery those pounds just melted away like nothing.  I should be turning cartwheels.

Shouldn’t I?

Ahh, the ‘should’ problem.

No wonder I’m feeling depressed and angsty.

I’m telling myself I should NOT be feeling anything other than rainbows, butterflies, and unicorns–purple, glittery unicorns.

The truth…

The truth is I feel sad.

I feel lonely.

I am grieving…not the pounds lost but the life I have lost since the day fibromyalgia changed my life forever and what sparked its arrival in my life.  I was 236.6 pounds on 9 September 2009 and again on 10 April 2016.

And to be entirely transparent in that way that keeps me real…

The next pounds to lose are the ones I gained after I married the professor who turned out to be a narcissistic psychopath (No, I am not exaggerating in the least in case you don’t know that story).

Oh Sweet Mercy!!!

More grief is coming.

There are a tiny handful of things I would truly change about my life if grated the power and marrying that man is definitely one of them.

I was my best me when he found me.

As with all charming narcissistic psychopaths, I was beguiled enough to say ‘I do’.

What I did not know is he trolled for me because my four children and I were supposed to be his Penance for destroying the lives of his wife and four children.  He had a magical plan that God would forgive him if he swooped me and my children up.  As we stood as proxy for his ex-wife and children, he was sure he would be healed by God’s Grace.

Of course, part of his plan included me being demure, submissive, and perpetually blinded by his charm. (Oh God, I can’t even type demure or submissive without laughing.  As anyone who really knows me, knows those are probably the last words that could be used to describe me.)

I guess his plan could have worked if he had managed to remain charming.

Instead he committed unspeakable atrocities.  He humiliated me for sport.  He abused me.  He told me of his plans to rape and pillage those who have wronged him.  And, he was enraged when I wouldn’t sit back and take it all with a cheerful and willing spirit much less worship him what he felt was magnanimous charity toward me and my children.

Fortunately for me, he failed to plan on his mental illnesses to unmask him.  His true colors are the stuff Stephen King writes about.

The stress of our 18 month marriage piled on about 25 pounds.

As we were divorcing, he called me ‘elephant ass.’

Right now…

Right this very minute…

I am sitting on those 25 pounds.

Yes, the bulk of the weight I gained landed on my booty.  Yes, those words stung.  The tear sliding down my cheek says they still sting.

But what you don’t know, unless you know the whole story, is the professor was teetering close to 500 pounds when he decided on this cruelty.

The man with the waist bigger around than I am tall called me ‘elephant ass.’

Unfortunately he’s not the first super obese person in my life to say something nasty about my weight so it triggered all of those past pains too.

Those are the next 25ish pounds on my To Lose list.

Losing weight isn’t about losing weight and losing weight alone.  It is about losing all the shit that came with the pounds.

A 500-pound man with a questionable grip on reality called me elephant ass…and I have to deal with it.

Even though I already knew this was coming I guess I am a little surprised it has arrived so quickly.

Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuckity.  Fuck.

When he met me, I was the strongest me I had ever been.

I had risen from the ashes of abuse and neglect.  I had healed myself and my soul.  My words were even being featured on the gratitude journal section of Oprah’s early 2000’s website.

Me.  On Oprah’s website.

Less than two years later we were divorcing and the tell-a-tale symptoms of fibromyalgia started appearing.

It is the scar of our relationship that will never leave no matter how many pounds I lose.

Despite much personal growth, I am still not back to where I was the day he found me.

Even if I could snap my fingers and be instantly rid of those 25 pounds, fibromyalgia will remain.  It has changed me and the course of my life.  Granted some of the change has been positive but this new reality does not lead back to that woman I was.

So maybe I just need to get a grip.

Maybe I need to cut myself some slack.

Maybe I need to deal with the terrifying horror that was being linked to the most truly evil human being I have ever known.

“These next 25 are some of the most painful ever placed on my body.”

Maybe I just need to say that, put that out there, and let it be.

Maybe I need to trust myself and all the work I have done to reclaim the spirit of the woman who captured the attention of Oprah’s people.

Maybe I just need to be present.  Because my here and now is even better than the woman who was the best me could have foreseen and frankly that’s pretty damned amazing considering all the shit I’ve waded through to get here.

Maybe I just need to do the work instead of feeling glum.

For my sleeve to do its job, I have to do mine.

So I’m feeling a little off…

If this is all you know about my story, I am sure you’ll tell me it’s to be expected.

Maybe I need to give my elephant ass a hug before I shove it off the wall…

Elephant

 

I Took My Life Back One Month Ago Today

In some ways, this first month has passed so slowly.  In other ways, it has flown by.

People have asked, “Has it been hard?”

Frankly, no.

Learning how to live again after consenting to have 90-percent of my stomach dissected and discarded–vertical sleeve gastrectomy–has been relatively easy.

But…

I have been preparing for this for over two years so I have had a lot of time to get my head right.

When I started college at 32 years old and as a mostly single mother (trucker wife to my now-ex-husband) of four in 2002, I made a commitment to myself to figure out how to get healthy, lose weight, and live with Grace toward my body and my weight.

Each semester I took a fitness class to ‘force’ myself to focus on fitness and weight reduction.  I stopped eating junk and took to learning everything I could about nutrition and focused on fueling my body.  I also worked on never looking in the mirror and saying, “You’re such a fat cow,” ever again.  Through it all I graduated with honors and finally kicked the no good so and so to the curb.

What I did not know then is on top of the Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome I already knew I had I also had Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis.  I knew I had hypothyroidism and I knew something more was thwarting my efforts to lose weight but I could not find a doctor to listen.  They all assumed the fat girl was lying about how much she was exercising and how she was managing her food intake.

It would take 10 more years–TEN–for me to find a doctor willing to write the lab order for the test to detect the autoimmune antibodies to confirm Hashimoto’s.  The test was positive. Fighting two hormonal conditions is insane.  It’s also a losing battle.  So I lost but not weight.  Okay, I did lose a bit of weight.  I would average 1/4 of a pound–the meat on a fast food burger–a week!!!  It didn’t feel like a victory then and it certainly doesn’t fourteen years later.

The struggle was not without reward.  What the experience did do for me was teach me how to get tough and real about my body.  For that my gratitude for the journey knows no bounds.  The positive antibodies are also what sparked my interest in weight loss surgery.

Compared to that ‘highlight’ reel of my 14 year journey to reclaim my health, weight loss surgery has a been a piece of cake…the cake I no longer want to partake.

The past month has felt like a dream compared to the nightmare I lived.

As of this morning, I have lost 28.1 pounds!!!!!! since the day I left the hospital weighing more than when I went in (read about that here) and 15 inches and 2.1 percent body fat.

In my adult life and not even postpartum have I ever lost this much in an entire YEAR!!!!

My best effort two years ago was 21 pounds.

Of course, my Hashi’s flared and my hormones piled it all back on in less than three months.  That, actually, was my last straw.  Because, if my stupid hormones are going to do that then weight loss surgery is the only tool to fight back.

You see your body stores hormones in fat.  When you are over fat, you are also over hormone’d.  When you are over hormone’d, your body is confused.  Slow weight loss through traditional means cannot and will not ever be fast enough to correct the hormonal imbalance.  Weight loss through surgical intervention is the only weapon to leech enough fat from your body to force a change to the chemical imbalance holding your body and health hostage.

And, in the event my thyroid whacks out again I would rather gain 20 pounds starting at 160 than at 220.  Simple as that.

Fortunately, I finally have a really great doctor willing to stay on top of my hormones so now I can focus on helping weight loss surgery do its job.

Fortunately, I am finally using the right tool for my personal metabolic chemistry.

Finally, I am moving in the right direction.