Getting Where I Want To Be

It’s been one of those weeks where motivation has been low; news has been bad, and the run to and from Band Camp has started. In the middle of all my usual activities I received a phone call that left me hurt and puzzled. The caller was well intended and before I hung up, I had the opportunity to get my point across, but the call left me chafed to say the least. “How can you do a blog about losing weight when you had lap-band surgery two years ago? Just because it failed you, doesn’t mean you haven’t tried to take the easy way out.” Well, the expletives that came to mind when I heard that wouldn’t have done anyone any good and my daughter was too close by for me to be, uh, as ticked as I would have liked to have been.

Two years ago I opted for the lap-band surgery after twenty-five years of living with the ups and downs of weight loss, the constant struggle, and the snarky comments. I wasn’t a heavy child, or a heavy teen. The weight came on after my father had passed away; I used food to pacify emptiness, to celebrate, and at times to ease boredom. When I was getting ready to turn fifty, I looked at my two young children and made a decision to try and be the best I could be health-wise. (Mainly so I could mess my children up for a longer length of time, causing them endless hours of therapy by living longer, but that’s another story.) The decision to have the lap-band surgery was fraught with controversy. I was told it was the easy way out, that I was lazy and just didn’t want to put in the discipline that was needed into losing weight, and that it would fail anyway. I was surprised, not so much by the comments, but where they came from. Still there were those who were supportive and it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. For a year the weight came off, slowly and steady. My energy level was up and I felt good about myself for the first time in many years. Then I had a second surgery.

Six months after the lap-band, I went for a round of tests after discovering a lump on the side of my neck. I had a tumor in the parotid gland, the size of a grade a large egg. Usually cancer is not an issue with this type of tumor, but the large size and location had my doctor cautiously concerned. Two biopsies were done and, with a breath that can only be described as heavenly, I was told there was no cancer. The surgery was a four-hour plus ordeal due to the location of the tumor, and the need for care to avoid paralysis of the facial muscles. I got lucky all the way around. I can wink, blink, grin and whistle, and the scar, while noticeable, is faint. It runs from the top of my left ear down into the middle of my neck. The only side effect came from the anesthesiology.

I am now more susceptible to infection and in the past seven months I’ve been in the emergency room twice and have spent four of those seven months on steroids and antibiotics. Anybody know what steroids do to a diet? I can tell you what they’ve done for me; I want to eat…constantly. I’ve had to be careful or I’ll gain back all of the weight that I initially lost. Prior to the lap-band surgery, I was 248 pounds. I lost 46 and have gained back 15. The lap-band helps with portion control, but you still have to eat right and exercise, and as you lose weight, the band has to be filled with saline to tighten around the stomach. This is in order for the portion control to remain correct. I haven’t been able to have a fill in several months, and my doctor recommends that I don’t until we’re over this hurdle. The main reason is because when you have the lap-band, you can’t, how do I put this politely, be effectively nauseous. One does not wish to choke when coughing up part of their lung.

Currently I’m on week two of another round of steroids. I’m hoping this will finally do the trick and that I can get a fill on the lap-band. If not, I’ll continue to do what I have been doing, eat well, exercise and work it like a big girl. (No pun intended) There is NOTHING easy about having surgery, and there is no easy way to lose weight. If you’ve been there, you know what I’m saying. I’ve made a commitment to myself to do this, for me and honestly for my children. I’m healthy in spite of the pounds I carry and I want to be healthier still. When I started this blog, I did it for me and for all of the rest of us who understand how difficult being overweight, and losing weight is. So no matter your decision or the path you go down to lose weight, here’s to you. May your choices be healthy and may we all get where we want to be!

I Want To Eat My Way Through North America With A Side of Fries

It’s that kind of a day. It started out normal enough, the radio alarm went off, and as usual I didn’t hear it. Then I rushed to just wake up while my brain downloaded all that had to be done in the day. Get the kids up, get the little one dressed, throw the cereal in the bowl, gather the supplies and food for their day, pull on some clothes, and head out the door. That was just the morning routine. Things looked to be on schedule until the van decided to go off line, and that threw the hitch in my giddy-up which sparked an argument between da hubby and me.

Being in a marriage is hard work, throw in children with diametrically opposed schedules and some days it seems impossible. Add to that, jobs, housework, a teaching schedule for music students along with the need to create and find time to write and well, sometimes the day can really start out with a bang. Today I’m wishing it was Bang-Bang Shrimp from the Bonefish Grill. I want to run into a mountain of carbs and well, carbs. Its times like these I remember going to my mother, as a child, with tears in my eyes and she would soothe and (honest to goodness sometimes it seemed magical) a dish would appear, heaped with pacifying delicacies. I’m not laying blame at the feet of my Mama, but even now when I’m stressed or “put out” I still turn to the solace of food. The problem with that is as soon as I’m finished tranquilizing myself, the guilt sets in as does the realization of the setback I’ve just caused myself in the weight loss department.

Someone once told me it’s not about what you eat; it’s about what’s eating you. Well dang. I’d have to go to psycho-therapy just to work out what’s eating me. Seriously, it is a valid statement and one that has me looking at other things to do to dissipate the stress. We all have stress; we all handle it in different ways. I have to figure a way to handle it and not turn to food. Writing helps, but when I can’t get to it because of a glitch or just the daily workings of life, I head to the refrigerator in an almost trance-like state. I don’t need to be bullied into different behavior like they do on weight loss shows. Those of us who have a hard time “fitting in” to a healthy weight already know how it feels to be bullied, and most of it comes from ourselves. I can show you seven ways from sideways to make myself feel bad without help from anyone else. In a world where stress is everywhere along with size zero models, it’s enough to make you grab the double mocha latte and hide in a corner.

I followed the hubby out to the garage for repair, both of us slightly worse for wear but still here, still getting by and still committed (I'm sure he thinks I should be) to keep on going until the next silly thing pops up and then keep on going after that. It reminds me of the conversation between Dory, in “Finding Nemo,” and Marlin when he feels he’s reached his breaking point:

Dory: “Hey there, Mr. Grumpy Gills. When life gets you down do you wanna know what you’ve gotta do?”

Marlin: “No I don’t wanna know.”

Dory: “Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming, swimming, and swimming.”

Maybe, if I “just keep swimming” I’ll find different ways to get through the stress. For now, I’ll just leave those Bang-Bang Shrimp for Dory.

(Current stats on the weight loss, down another pound for a total of five pounds lost. Honestly, I think it was because I was sick this weekend.)

CAUTION! Cinching Capris and Celebrations Conflict!

Well nuts, or better yet, ice cream cake, tenderloin medallions topped with blue crab meat and béarnaise sauce, freshly steamed asparagus, baked sweet potato loaded with butter, sugar and cinnamon, and let’s not forget the cheese cake, chicken salad, pimento cheese, and ah…celebratory beverages. Admittedly, the cheese cake WAS low carb, it didn’t have a crust, but oh that creamy dream of dairy! No one can have just one slice. This is what was consumed, along with a breakfast or two, over a period of forty-eight hours at the best friend’s house while we reveled over her birthday weekend. As the old Alka-Seltzer commercial used to proclaim, “I can’t believe I ate the whole thing.”

I earnestly believe my capris were in a state of shock on Monday morning, and my digestive tract cursed me fluently with gurgles and moans. I’m not sure I’ve recovered yet.  The scales still show a four pound weight loss, but no more. Celebrations can bring your best laid plans to a standstill. Every congratulatory moment seems to abound with heaping amounts of tempting FOOD. Have a birthday? Here’s your cake. Anniversary? Dinner for two. Kid's party? We have pizza. Getting married? Here’s your reception with the sit-down dinner. Oy! Even if I didn’t have a love affair with food, how could I resist, it’s all around me. (Yes, it is indeed all around me, on my hips, my thighs…you understand.)

Here’s the deal. Since I’m not on a planned weight-loss regimen like Weight Watchers or Jenny Craig, it’s imperative that I make healthy choices and work out as often as my mad, mad world will let me. I really don’t want to pay to weigh in somewhere, or have different food in my household for me and something else for the rest of the family. There will always be celebrations accented with heaps and heaps of food. I should be able to step up to the plate, and load it, if you will (‘cause you KNOW I will), with a reasonable amount of decent choices.

The key is balance. I’m still teeter-tottering, but I won’t stop trying. I took a bit of a downward slide this past weekend and I’d be a liar if I told you I didn’t enjoy it. Still, the best part of the entire weekend was being with my friend, and I want to share as many celebrations with her as I can. If I can keep the perspective as to what is important, maybe I can keep a little cake too.

Do You See Me Now?

The July 4^th weekend is behind me, or rather, perhaps, now a part of my behind. It’s been a rough few days of cookouts and rich foods, starting with Saturday. We went to the birthday party of a friend of ours, and food was everywhere. When you’re trying to cinch in the belt it seems you can’t escape tables loaded with cascading treats, but I wouldn’t have missed Carl’s birthday in spite of the temptations. He was in our wedding 25 years ago when I still had a waist and I was a little hesitant about going to the party because, well, I’m not the girl I used to be. Being (what some have called) a larger-than-life-size-girl in a size zero world can shake your confidence and make you second guess yourself.

I would have loved to go to the party thin and svelte, but would that really have made a difference to those who invited my husband and me? There have been occasions when I’ve put too much importance into what others have said regarding the state of my, um, abundant curves. Once upon a long ago, I invited a co-worker to come to my home. When she walked into the door she commented about how very neat my home was and that she didn’t expect such tidiness since “most large people are sloppy.” Well shoot. I could have saved myself the time and trouble of cleaning up the trash heap and putting out the pig for her had I known her opinion! I told her I’d be glad to mess things up if that would make her more comfortable and laughed it off, but it hurt. You can bet your sweet bippy I never invited her over again. Then there was this one lady, who I thought was beautiful say, “You’d be lovely if you’d just lose a little weight.” The thing is I always thought I was pretty good, and in my own way, pretty where it counted. Even family can sneak in a quick jab like the time I was asked why I was trying this or that to lose weight “when you’ll only gain it all back.” Being overweight is not for wimps. I’ve discovered that you have to have a pretty good idea of who you are and a sizable (you’d think I could come up with a different word) backbone to have any kind of self-esteem.

On the other hand, I do have the support of true friends and family through all my ups and downs on the scale. That rocks my world and helps me handle the “good intentioned ones” who have made the comment that they hope I find myself as I go through this journey. Now I’m not saying that the weight loss won’t boost my ego or self-esteem, but for crying out loud…I’ve been here all along! I know who I am, I really do. It’s not like the pounds have given me amnesia. I can tell you that with or without the weight, I know me. I know that music sends me. It’s the one true thing that sends my soul flying, and that my voice soars with or without extra weight on my bones. I know that writing is a part of me. Every line, every word, whether it’s put together coherently or not, is right out of my being and it can sometimes tilt my cup to overflowing. I know that love surrounds me and makes me a better person than I would be without it and that my children see the real, nitty, gritty, picky, loving Mama that is me every single day (bless their hearts).

The size of my tush doesn’t define who I am as a person or how I should be treated. How I act, how I interact and how I show empathy, kindness and love are evidence of the real me.  I’m messy, and funny, and frantic, and moody with hot flashes. I’m a cynical romantic who loves melodrama, all genres of music, and I still cry at Hallmark commercials at the tender age of 51. I never lost myself, I just added a few inches on the framework. I’ve always been here. Losing weight might make me last a little longer, move a little faster, breathe a little easier and spend less money on clothes, but if the figure is all you see, you never really saw me in the first place. I don’t need to drop pounds to find myself, but if you have a little extra will power to spare so I can pass by the next round of holiday food, I’ll take it.