A WEIGHT OFF MY SHOULDERS, AND EVERYTHING ELSE

It was a year ago, on December 8th, that I had my weight loss surgery! 

To date, I have lost 86 pounds, which is the equivalent of a whole ass middle school kid.

All along, I planned on doing a thoughtful, formal, yearly wrap up with insightful thoughts about the surgery itself; about how my body has changed, and the good and the bad of having a surgery like the one I had.

I'm not gonna do that after all. Well, not in the way that I had originally planned, at least. Instead, I'm going to talk about the things I've learned in this past year as I've gone through the changes that I have, because a lot of things that I've experienced weren't what I was expecting.  

First off - eating sucks. Look, my body may have changed, but my brain has not. I'm sure I've mentioned that before, and I'm certain that it can't be that much of a surprise, but reducing the size of my stomach did not, in fact, reduce my want for food. Not on an emotional level at least. If I had ever doubted that my eating habits were tied to how I was feeling, then having this surgery removed all of those doubts. There have been days when I've been very unhappy, and my first thought is to shove food in my mouth until I feel better. The trouble is, I don't have a lot of room for that food anymore, and the amount of food I can physically stand does not soothe whatever mental thing that eating did before. Plus, if I eat the wrong things (some of which I can eat more of than others) it just makes me feel sick and sometimes puts me in physical pain. I've got a long way to go before I can recognize being full and also not emotional eating. Also, don't even talk to me about if something tastes good. I want to eat more of that thing, just like everyone else, and I can't. It's frustrating in the worst kind of way. If I can't get this under control, I'm going to gain a considerable amount of weight back, which I never, ever, ever want to do. Keep your fingers crossed for me, please.

Secondly - Shopping is awesome now! Do you know what it's like to have maybe one store within driving distance that carries your size? It sucks. Especially when the things in that store are not necessarily your style? All grandma clothes with big sequined birds all over them, cheap fabrics and awkward lengths? That's what it was like before. Apparently, when you weight 230 pounds, you're also supposed to be 70 years old, not care what you look like, and be 6' 6" tall. One of the nicest parts about losing weight has been that if I need clothes, I don't have to go online, or pay extra for extended sizes, or cross my fingers that when I order the size I need, it won't be in Vietnamese infant measurements. I can literally go into a regular store and buy something. I haven't been able to do that in years. Unfortunately, due to my new enthusiasm for clothes shopping, I have purchased some questionable choices that probably don't fit my age or my personality, but I like to have them around, just in case.

Thirdly - Men treat me differently now than they did a year ago. In some ways that's ok, in some ways it's very much not ok, and in all ways it kind of pisses me off. I'm well aware that a lot of dudes look at a fat girl and see them as a joke or maybe don't really see them at all. I'm not here to judge anyone's personal physical preferences. Truly. BUT. BUT. Because I have changed so rapidly, the changes in people's behavior are really obvious to me. It didn't change gradually, so it isn't like any of this feels normal at all. Now I get some unwanted, creepy attention from people who would have used me as a joke before. Not always, and not from every guy, but stray randoms feel like they can send me DMs and make weird comments, or say borderline inappropriate things, or - God help me - just touch me for no reason. I was chatting with a man I didn't know at a work-related thing recently - and he was being perfectly normal - and then he ran his hand down my back to my hip. I genuinely don't know if he meant to be creepy, but I certainly don't think I did anything to signal "please, stranger, rub me!" I had to have a co-worker run interference between me and a much older man who wouldn't leave me alone at the same event. These men don't work with me, so I couldn't report them, but damn. No matter what size I have been, I know that I've always been the same person. I'm cute, charming, and probably more inappropriate than I need to be at times, so in all, I'm a freaking delight. All of that and I was invisible before, but the fact that just having a smaller body suddenly gets me attention? That's bull. I mean, I know those guys who suddenly "see me" aren't looking for a charming conversation companion, but still...it's bull. 

Fourthly - The touching. Good lord, the touching. It isn't just men who do it. I've had all kinds of people literally say "OMG, you look so good!" and run their hands all over me, like they are trying to find out if I've just folded the fat away in secret compartments and they want to find the release switch. I know they don't mean to make things weird, but who does that? If I came up to you and just rubbed your sides like I thought a genie would pop out of your butt, you'd think it was weird too, right? I believe it must be the same thing that pregnant women go through when people rub their bellies. Maybe people can't help themselves? I don't mind hugs and things like that (usually...see above paragraph) but I didn't know people were going to pat me down like rogue TSA agents for no reason.

Fifthly - that word looks weird, but fifthly - for the most part my health is a lot better, number wise. I'm still very tired and weak a lot of times, and in dire need of finding a type of exercise that I can do on a regular basis to build up strength, but all of the numbers that were edging on the border of being dangerous, are now normal. That is a huge relief. It's one of the main reasons I had this surgery. I knew I was killing myself slowly and I couldn't make myself stop. I couldn't overcome whatever mental issues caused the overeating and emotional eating on willpower alone, so taking this extreme measure has actually done good things. 

I could probably go on and on, but this is enough for now. Things have changed so much in such a short time that I'm still adjusting to everything, but I'm very glad I took the step I did. The fact that I can undo all of the good if I'm not careful hangs over my head every day, but I'm trying very hard to change my attitudes and ways so that I don't end up in the same boat as I was before. Is it easy? No, not really. It's a struggle every day, not just to keep myself fed and heathy, but to not put myself into a position where I sabotage myself. I'm naturally a self-saboteur, I think. But for now, and I hope for the future and beyond, I'm making progress in a positive way and I hope I can keep on doing that.

A WEIGHTY ISSUE VOL. 3

Hello again!

Look, don't worry. Not every entry on my blog is going to be about this surgery, I promise. I mean, I might mention it from time to time, but I'm not some expert about what I've had done and I don't think I'll want to turn into some kind of guru about it. I'll do my best not to create a hashtag or a new IG account called "The Incredible Shrinking Kelly" or anything like that. In fact, I hope I don't have to mention it very often again!  

I've done it. It's done. It's a part of my life now and I've got to learn to adapt to it. 

But I am going to write one last update (for now, at least) about how I'm doing and all of that. I'm sure one of you cares, after all! Haha!

I'm almost two weeks out from having the vertical gastric sleeve and I'm feeling much better. I'm not 100%, but that is to be expected. Most of my soreness is gone, except for one incision site where they had to stitch a muscle back together. That should probably be feeling better than it is, but I made the mistake early on of trying to lie on my back. Apparently that was stupid of me, because I couldn't get back up. Steve couldn't help me up. There was only me, lying on my back like a sad turtle, with what felt like what I imagine a bullet wound feels like. I finally managed to squirm my way back on my feet, but I'm pretty sure I either pulled out an internal stitch, or viciously pulled a muscle in my side. Either way, that bitch still hurts! 

I've graduated from sleeping in the chair and can now sleep in the bed, as long as I'm propped up, which is nice. I'm still trying to drink all my drinks and it sucks. If I'm not thinking about it, I can drink water all day. Now that I have to measure it all, it's much harder. I don't know why. Stupid brain! I'm still really weak and get tired easily, but honestly, I'm running on about 350-400 calories a day and I haven't been cleared to take vitamins yet. I suppose I'm lucky that I'm able to function at all, but so far I'm doing ok. I've even run a couple of errands by myself, which was awful, but I was determined not to be stuck inside all day. I'm mostly avoiding going out so that I don't catch the flu, or a cold, or even COVID (I can't have a booster until I talk to the surgeon) because if I cough, or sneeze, or throw up, I think my abdomen would explode. Also, I want to see my family at Christmas. If my mom doesn't see me in person soon, I'm fairly certain she'll disown me. Getting back to normal is something I'd like to do very soon!

But as I'm healing, I'm coming into a lot of fears. What if this doesn't work? What if I went through all of this bullshit and I don't lose weight - or even worse - lose very little and no more? That can happen. it is a legit statistic. Some people just don't respond to it. 

Also, a lot of how you succeed in this process comes down to discipline with food and exercise and I already know I am not great with that. You shouldn't have 80% of your stomach taken out and then screw that up, ya know? I'm afraid I'm not strong enough. What if I fail?

Another weird thing that has been happening, is that I'm feeling very hungry at times. Granted, I'm living on liquids, which could be the culprit, but I wasn't supposed to feel hungry. The surgery is supposed to take care of ending the feeling hungry portion of things, but there are times when I'm starving. It's frustrating. What if, when I'm healed enough to eat regular food, I can't stop? Or, if I can control that, will I be hungry forever?

Ugh. There are a lot of worries in my head right now, and it takes up a lot of my brain space, but honestly, I just want to do the best I can with all of this. I don't know how it will shake out in the end. I hope I'm able to follow the program and find what works for me, and not be an idiot about things when it comes down to it. I still have a long way to go, so I'd appreciate your good vibes or whatever you can send my way!

But I don't want to end this on a downer. There is still a chance this will work exactly as it's supposed to and I'll be so much healthier down the line. I'm sure there will be some disappointment and backsliding, but there is an equal chance that I'll do great. The biggest problem at this point is not knowing. I don't want to sabotage myself ahead of time out of fear.

Oh, and just so that you can be excited for me, later this week, I get to eat an egg! A whole egg! I've been told it's akin to a religious experience.

TO EGGS! 

A WEIGHTY ISSUE

So here's the thing...and it's not a thing I think I'd normally talk about, but I'm nervous and talking about it helps a bit.

In December, I am going to have surgery! Don't worry, I'm not sick or anything! This is a completely elective sort of thing that I've been considering for almost a year. What kind of surgery is this, you may ask? 

I am going to have a vertical gastric sleeve surgery. It's a weight loss surgery. A doctor is going to poke some holes in my abdomen, remove part of my stomach, and then sew it all back up! This will limit the amount of food I can eat and, therefore, aid in weight loss. I have to make permanent changes in my eating habits after this surgery and take vitamin supplements and a myriad of other things, but ultimately, if I do it all right, I will lose weight and get healthier! Fingers crossed!

Look, y'all, I'm going to be just as blunt as I can be. I'm very overweight. Almost 100 pounds overweight, according to the BMI chart. That is not only unfortunate, ugly, and embarrassing, it is dangerous. I've tried all manner of things to lose it in the past, and for the most part I've had spells of being successful. I've been able to lose about 40 pounds at a time, three times, before gaining it back. Of course, the first two times I tried to lose weight, I had the help of pharmaceutical grade amphetamines (not great for the heart or anxiety issues) and the third time I was in a medically controlled fasting weight loss program that I hated so much that I was in a state of hungry misery for 6 months and that particular program was apparently my body's last straw. I was only able to maintain that weight loss for about 7 months before I ended up gaining twice the weight I lost. For the past three years, I've been steadily gaining weight, hating the way I look, not wanting to go out in public, being embarrassed every time I see a photo of myself, noticing a distinct strain on my joints and nerves, and not being able to find clothes that fit. Also, I'm beginning to worry about my heath in general. As of my last check-up, I'm still in general good health, but borderline on some of the things that will cause very bad health down the line if I don't do something drastic. Surgery was not my first choice to fix these problems, but it has become the choice I'm making for myself because I'm not sure what else to do.

You're probably thinking to yourself, why TF are you going to have surgery for something like that? Can't you just get out and run and eat less and go to the gym like a normal person? Well, apparently not. Or at least, not in a way that is helpful. I've mentioned before that I have spine problems. My bones are wearing down. I don't think that has anything to do with my weight (I mean, it might, but I don't think so) but it hurts, you guys. It hurts all the time. When I work out, in any way, it gets worse. I can't lift weights, I can't run, and even walking long distances or being on a stationary bike makes me hurt so badly that it causes nerve pain that almost drives me crazy. I know that I'll have to exercise after having this surgery, but I'm hoping that when I don't weigh so much, maybe my back won't hurt as bad. As for the eating less? I'm an emotional binge eater. I always have been. I use food as a crutch. It was hard to come to that conclusion, but I sometimes don't have any conscious control over myself when I eat. I hate that about myself, but as I've gotten older, I've been able to control it less. If I physically control what I can have and the amount of it I can have at a time, then hopefully that will help.

I might still have not decided to go this route, but my coworker had it and has had great results. Granted, it hasn't always been smooth sailing, but big life changes usually aren't easy. Before I committed to the surgery, I tried once more to lose it on my own, but I only gained more weight. So I talked to my doctor and this is where I landed.

Is this surgery foolproof? No. If I'm not careful, I could end up right back where I am right now. The surgery is just a tool to help me. I have to be more careful than ever to make sure I eat better and exercise more, but I'll have a better chance of succeeding with this surgery. I need something drastic to kick me in the butt and make me take control of things, which I hope this will do.

Am I scared? As fuck. Weirdly, I'm not afraid of the surgery, or even the life changes afterward. What I'm scared of is the complications that can happen. Any surgery can have complications, as you know, and for some reason I keep scaring myself by thinking of the absolute worst outcomes. During the day, it all seems silly, but at night, I'll scare myself to death thinking of all the things that could go wrong. Obviously, that is normal, but the fact that I'm so nervous makes it all worse somehow. Also, I'm (and this is the really crazy thing) scared that I'm going to chicken out of this. I desperately don't want to do that. As I said, I didn't come to this decision lightly or uninformed. I'm choosing to do this. So why am I so scared that I'm going to back out? It doesn't make sense. It seems normal to worry that I'll die, but it seems weird to be worried that I won't go through with it at all. I hate the way my brain works sometimes.

So that is what is going on with me. I'd appreciate any good vibes or prayers or whatever you could send my way. I'm ready to do something to help myself. The surgery sounds worse than it actually is, as far as I know, and the doctor I'm going to is supposed to be one of the best in the state. Just keep your fingers crossed for me, please!

SIGH

OK, just a heads up, I'm about to have a little pity party here for myself.

I feel like a failure.

Anyone who has been around these parts since January of this year knows about the rather extreme weight loss program that Steve and I were a part of. It wasn't fun.  It was hard, and awful, and hungry and depressing, but it worked.  I lost over 40 pounds and, I'm not going to lie, I was kind of proud of myself.  Granted, anyone who basically starves themselves will lose weight, but I felt like I was doing it in a relatively smart way: medical supervision, with a support group and an educational class to teach about nutrition and exercise.  It had all of the elements of a successful program that would provide long term results.

I think for almost everyone else in the program it has worked, but for me not so much, and it's all my fault.

Ever since Steve and I were released into "Maintenance Mode" which basically means that we are no longer under weekly supervision, things don't seem to be working out so well.  Some things are fine, as I'm way more aware of the things I eat, I go twice a week to pretty intense circuit workout class, I rarely eat fast food anymore (maybe 5 times since January,) I hardly eat sweets, I eat more vegetables and less carby stuff now than I ever have in my entire life, and a good half of what I consume in a day is hospital approved meal replacements.

Despite all of that, I am still not doing something right, even though I can't really pinpoint it. I know it has to be a lot to do with what I'm eating, as I do eat at restaurants and don't always make the best choices when I'm there.  I have a weakness for salty things, and although I don't do it often, I'll occasionally have a drink if we go out with friends. I'm so tired all of the time that when I don't specifically have gym class, I'm usually sleeping as much as possible so that I can make it through the day without falling asleep at work. Even though those habits aren't even at the level that they were, my weight is creeping slowly upwards and I am ashamed of myself for it.

I know I shouldn't be, because there are probably way more things I should consider being ashamed of myself for, but I can't help it. I worked so hard to lose this weight and now I'm just...failing...at food. I spent so much money and time doing the danged program and now it feels like I wasted all of it.  I know I didn't, as I saw results, but for them to be so easily lost is disheartening.  What's even worse is that when we do go to our monthly meetings, I see everyone doing their thing and it seems so effortless, and I'm just sitting there slowly melting back into a blob of personage by the second.

The thing is, that my shame isn't specifically just about gaining the weight back, although that is something I desperately don't want, but the fact that I couldn't be disciplined enough to maintain the weight loss I'd achieved for even a month after being let go from the program. I'm not back to where I was in the beginning, but if the trend continues, I will be and I don't want that.

I'm just so disgusted with myself, you guys!  I know that if I work at it, I can find some kind of groove to get back into, but right now it seems kind of hopeless and I'm just so frustrated.  I can't just live on meal bars and dietary Yoo-Hoo for the rest of my life. I can only do as much exercise as my body will let me.  I'm just...ugh.

I'm sorry, I know that in the scheme of things this is a very minor blip on the screen, and I hope that I'll just figure out what my issue is and fix it, but right now I'm just so disheartened. 

That is all.  Pity party over for a bit. :)  I hug you.

OH, Y'ALL.

Today I went to my first monthly maintenance meeting for the weight loss program we've been doing.

I. Hated. It. Exclamation Point.

I hated it so much that it's hilarious.  I mean that, I was on the verge of cracking up the entire time I was in the room, and the fact that I didn't do so is proof that I have some semblance of self control deep down.  This was how I felt about 15 minutes in:

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Don't get me wrong, I know it's important for us to continue going to these meetings. We need to be held accountable, we need encouragement and guidelines and all of that, and we need the resources to continue with the work we started, but geez.  The worst part of trying to lose weight, and I mean this universally and I'm guilty of it as well, is doing nothing but talking about what you're eating and how you're exercising, and how you aren't doing what you're supposed to be doing. That kind of thing bores me into an itching fit.

That was literally what we did the whole time.  THE. WHOLE. TIME.

Granted, this was an entirely new class of people and we had to do the "go around the room and tell a little bit about ourselves."

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But honestly, I thought we'd been there for an hour and when I looked at the clock, we'd only been there for 20 minutes.  It was brutal.  We had to listen to this man describe every vegetable that he put in a salad.  I'm not exaggerating.  Instead of just saying "I eat salads with no meat" he listed off the entire produce inventory for Whole Foods. He also didn't know how to pronounce "cruciferous." One lady had to explain, in painstaking detail, her day and what she does in it and how she militantly doesn't allow herself to eat except on a schedule and that she asks to take home food from parties just so she can throw it away.  At least two women spent their time berating themselves, like, almost to the point of pulling out a cat-o-nine-tails (not the fun kind) and scourging their own flesh because they'd gained weight.  Steve, one other lady, and I gave a fairly abbreviated description of how we'd been doing since we left the main part of the program and the rest was just some weird self flagellation or grocery list recitation.  It was so uncomfortable that I came very close to getting laugh-in-church syndrome.  I kept trying to catch Steve's eye, but he wouldn't look at me because he was feeling the same way.  Oh, and the topper of the whole thing is that the lady just interrupted me while I was talking and then moved on, which really endeared her to me for life!  Haha.

I know that what we are in is basically a support group, and I know that these people need to talk, and I'm hoping that now that we know one another we don't have to do that part of it again and we can get to talking about nutrition and exercise and more helpful stuff instead of a group misery session.  If we don't, I'm not sure I'll survive . 

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By the way, in case you haven't noticed, I like gifs!