Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Days of Our Lives- 259 days post surgery

 
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“Sometimes I get to feelin' I was back in the old days - long ago. When we were kids, when we were young. Things seemed so perfect - you know? The days were endless, we were crazy - we were young. The sun was always shinin' - we just lived for fun. Sometimes it seems like lately - I just don't know. The rest of my life's been - just a show. Those were the days of our lives. The bad things in life were so few. Those days are all gone now but one thing is true -When I look and I find I still love you.” – Days of Our lives, Mercury

This week I have been in a very Freddie Mercury, worship-y sort of place. I love Queen. I couldn’t think of a Queen song that worked for this post, so I just picked a song I liked. Mercury’s last video was for this song, shortly before his death in 1991.

If you are someone who has been overweight, or if we are to be truthful, morbidly obese, as I was (People who know me, especially YOU---Ou mem mem—fix your face.  The fact of the matter is that I WAS morbidly obese—now I’m just obese.) you dream about losing THE WEIGHT.  You will be BeyoncĂ©!  All of a sudden you will be golden brown, with a blond weave and an innate ability to twerk. (Real sexy twerking, not sad, Miley twerking.) The sexy beast that lives inside of you will be unleashed on the world.  You.  Will.  Be.  A.  Force.  To.  Be.  Reckoned.  With.  Oh, how your life will be different.  EVERYTHING will turn around for you.  You will have the magical life of the thin and desirable.  Make no mistake, thin people are desirable and they live a magical life. Once you’re thin, people will want to be around you.  You will be taken seriously.  That success that has been eluding you will, all of a sudden, be there.  Looking for love? Success? Happiness?  Just get thin and all your dreams will come true, because now you will be worthy of it.

Soooo I’m guessing, that none of those things will happen. I sort of hope they will, but the closer I get to goal (I’ve 43lbs to go—maybe more. I’ll check out how I feel when I weigh 150lbs) the less likely it seems that is what is going to happen.  When I sit down with myself and think things through in a less hysterical way, I think that things will change because I will hold myself in higher regard.  Hopefully, the more weight I loose, the more confident I feel.  God willing, the weight loss, coupled with the confidence, will eliminate the negative thoughts.  The negative thoughts that tell me that that nothing will change, and no one is noticing that my body is changing.  I don’t know why it doesn’t matter that people are telling me how great I look etc. The voice in my head is louder. That voice wants me continue to think that my life is mediocre, because at my core, I am mediocre. That voice, loves for me to think that it doesn’t matter how much weight I loose. That voice wants me to think, that thin or obese, I don’t deserve any of the joys that other people deserve.  In my heart of hearts, I know that the voice of doom is wrong. My value is not directly related to the number on the scale.  My value comes from within. I KNOW this. I’m working really hard on BELIEVING it.

Thursday, August 21, 2014

My change has done me good-252 days post surgery

Ten years living in a paper bag. Feedback baby, he's a flipped out cat. He's a platinum canary, drinkin' falstaff beer. Mercedes rule, and a rented lear. Bottom feeder insincere. Prophet lo-fi pioneer. Sell the house and go to school. Get a young girlfriend, daddy's jewel. A change would do you good. A change would do you good. – Sheryl Crow “A Change”

This might be the longest I have gone without writing.  Few things have been going on, most of them good.  Mostly, I think that I have just not felt like writing much.  First, let me just say that I am happy.  Having WLS is the best, BEST thing I have EVER done for myself.  Everything thing feels fresh and new.  I have graduated from shopping exclusively at the plus sized store.  I’m still figuring out what size I am but as of today it feels like either a 14W (plus size) or a regular 16.  I have been able to get clothes from Old Navy (not plus), The Gap and the Loft. Quick funny story-- > A few weeks ago I was someplace with my friend when she looked at me and said:

N: What are you doing?
A: What do you mean, what I am doing? Nothing. Why?
N:  Why are you holding your side like that?
A: I’m not… (Only to realize that I was)
N: Are you holding up your panties?
A: No! (Yeah)
N: OMG. You ARE holding up your panties! What size are you wearing?
A: (Shrugs) 26/28?
N: (look of complete and total disgust) You’re an idiot. Go get some drawers!

I went out that day and picked up some new panties, size 14/16. I finally stopped wearing my 26/28 underwear and tossed them in the trash. I have to admit that it was kind of hard. I’m not sure why. But it was. The fear is, I suppose, that I will need them again someday. Getting rid of all my clothes was hard, but not nearly as much.  I saved an outfit just so I can see where I was. Maybe I'll take one of those pictures, with myself in one side of my pants.  Yesterday I got a pair of Victoria's Secret panties.  I have never had a pair before. They were nothing special---just a pair of the free cotton ones (the send those free coupons from time to time) But this was the first time I could get them.  Got them in an XL and am wearing them today!  I know this seems like a weird thing to be excited about, but I was.  SO excited and oddly proud.  Yours truly got panties from a regular store! Oh the JOY! 

For a while I was scared that even though the scale was moving, that people weren’t noticing. Hell, I have had a hard time noticing it when I see myself. Not so much anymore though, I finally see it. I will catch a glimpse of myself and be taken aback. Wow! Who is that? I was, am, torn between wanting people to notice and wanting to be left alone.  However, a colleague of mine sent me an email the other day: 

“You look gorgeous!  I hardly recognized you this morning.  I didn't get a chance to tell you in person and didn't want the day to end before I told you that you're an inspiration!  

This woman and I are not friends, in fact when I first came to work for this department I was her assistant. Soon after, I realized she was a nut job and pleaded to be allowed to work for someone else. She doesn’t know that I had surgery, and I feel a little bit like a fraud.  You know, because of all the “inspiration” talk. But it’s nice to hear. My UPS guy did a double take at me the other day. I waved at him like I always do and he stopped the truck and said: 

UPSGuy: OMG I didn’t recognize you!  
A: (For some reason I got weird about it) Oh yeah I got a haircut.
UPSGuy:  (He gave me this look) Yeah but that’s not what I mean. You look great, good job!

Most of the people who love me have been great about my weight loss. I think for some, they aren’t sure how to deal with this new, changing me.  This is ok considering that I’m not always sure how I should deal with this new, changing me.   No matter what situation I was in, I was usually the fat person in the room. My friends, family and colleagues knew how to deal with me. They knew what category I belonged in and treated me accordingly. Yes---those of you reading this, you did. My weight affected (affects) the way people thought of me and treated me.   

My best friend and boyfriend (yeah guy I broke up with in January is back—we’ll discuss at some point), seem to be having the most trouble.  My BFF, let’s call her Nicole, is overweight.  She and I were about the same size. Truth be told, I was bigger than she was. She won’t say it, but I feel like my weight loss bothers her.  But in that same way that someone else’s weight loss would bother me. I can’t pretend that it doesn’t bother me, but I also TOTALLY get it.  Being fat BLOWS.  Anthony, my BF, is having trouble with the way my naked body looks.  When I told him about the WLS I told him it would happen.  There would be sagging and drooping.  He said didn’t care that he was here for me no matter what. A few months ago I tried to talk to him about it again, and he sort of brushed it aside and said so eloquently “I will always want to fuck you”.  Sweet right?  We got into a big argument the other day about something else, and he decided that would be the ideal moment where he would confess that my body was bothering him, only he said it like douche.  It was mean and hurtful.  He has since apologized and I believe him.  He is really bad at expressing emotion.  However, that was hard, bitter, nasty pill to swallow.  The fact is that I have more weight to loose. There will be more sagging, more drooping before I hit goal. (Shrugs) I showed him the door and he refused to take it. I don’t want to be without him, but I am not apologizing to anyone for what my body looks like. You can go fuck yourself. That goes for anyone.  I will have plastic surgery, but not because I want anyone else to be happy, but because I want to dress like a dirty skank.  ;-) I have lots to say about plastic surgery. More on that another time. 

At times I am frustrated with the process.  It feels SO slow.  As of last Saturday I am down 99lbs and I have reached the elusive “onderland”*, to be honest, it feels a little anticlimactic.  I don’t know where I thought I would be, but I can’t help but wish SO BADLY, that I was down more than I am.  I struggle with knowing the difference of head hunger and actual hunger.  I miss the freedom of being able to eat what I want, when I want.  Not that I should have been eating the way that I was, but I am longing for the choice.  I miss the ability to choose. I am in a place where I can’t eat an entire slice of pizza.  I used to eat 2, sometimes 3.  I can’t eat a whole bagel, in fact, I can barely eat ¼. I can’t eat more than 2 dumplings in a sitting. I used to eat at least 6. I can go on.   

Certain situations make me anxious. Social and familial situations particularly.   I’m anxious about seeing my grandmother. This woman’s reason for living is to feed her family.  She counts the amount of meatballs you eat. I am serious.  My grandmother lives in Haiti and I don’t see her that often.  Last time I saw her, 2 years ago, she called me on it. 

GM: You only ate 3 meatballs?!
A: Ok, yes but you had all this other stuff that I ALSO ate.

In the end, she told my mother on me. I was 40. 

So far, my change has done me good.

*Onederland is that magical place that many people talk about when losing weight. A little place called “Under 200 pounds”.

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Winning: Non Scale Victory---65 Days Post Surgery

 
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“I’m winning. I’m winning. I’m winning. And I don't intend on losing again. Too bad it belonged to me. It was the wrong time. And I meant to be. It took a long time. And I knew for now. I can see the day that I breathe for. Friends agree there's a need. To play the game. And to win again” – Winning, Santana


When I get on the scale and I see a loss, I consider that a victory. While I always want a victorious weight loss, I’m also aware there are some victories that have nothing to do with the number on the scale. The Non-Scale Victory (NSV).

I’ve had a few NSV’s this week. My boss has a guest chair in his office that I have always hated. I hated it because I didn't fit in it. I could never sit back all the way. I kinda had to perch on the edge, which sucked. It’s embarrassing even if no one noticed.  And frankly, I can’t imagine that no one noticed. The knowledge that I was so fat that was unable to fit on a piece of office furniture was sad to me. I've had a lot of that in my life. Wedging my self into seats. Spilling over into the next person’s space. While it sucked, I lived with it. Before I sit someplace I eye the seat and make a judgment call. To sit or not to sit? Perhaps to sit delicately. Since I have to meet with my boss, I had no choice but to sit delicately. Honestly, I got used to perching every time I met with the man. The other day he was on phone but didn’t want me to leave, so I just sat perched, as usual. I'm not sure why it occurred to me to sit back in the chair, but I did. And slid I did all the way back. I'm telling you I was giddy. Still am. The weigh is coming off.  Steadily. A part of me wishes it were coming off faster. Obviously, I want the weight off yesterday. However, I suppose that slow and steady is better.

I went to a meeting the other day and they had cupcakes from the GOOD bakery. While I had the requisite WFPD (What Fat People Do) moment of undressing the cupcake with my eyes--- I was ok without it. (Note--- You have noticed fat people who stare at food right? This happens when they are trying to NOT eat something. They stare at it with longing, while willing themselves not to cave and eat whatever it is. ) I don’t think that that I would have been able to pass it up before surgery. It would have been a free cupcake from the good bakery. I would have eaten it and likely glommed another.

I'm developing a pile of give away clothes. I set aside a large shopping bag and now that bag now runneth over.  My over the calf boots are roomy! They used cut off my circulation. Not anymore.

Jeans that I could not get into now glide up with ease.  For some reason I had jeans in several sizes. Some of them have been relegated to the bag. A few are en route to the bag. The other day I put on a pair of jeans, while I knew they were baggy I thought I could get away with it. By the end of the day I was pulling up my pants. Later that day when I was taking them off, I was able to slide them off without unzipping them!

People are starting to notice. Or at least they are saying that they can tell. My aunt asked me to send her a selfie. If you knew my aunt, you'd find the fact that she even knows what a selfie is as hysterical as I do.  Anyway I did, and she freaked out. "You have a neck!" “Look at your face! I can see the lines.” Today my coworker said I was "werqing" my jeans. 

Hee Hee! Nice. Non Scale Victories kids.

Let me just say that I know that I am the beginning of this process. I have a long way to go till I get to my goal. However I am excited about the progress I’ve made so far. While I haven’t won, I’m on the path to winning.

Saturday, January 25, 2014

The Breakup Artist...


I broke with my boyfriend the other night. Yep. I’ve had a boyfriend. For the past 10 months I’ve been dating someone.  On paper, and in theory, he was it.  I wanted smart.  He is smart. I wanted someone who was successful. He is successful. I wanted someone handsome.  He’s handsome. I wanted someone who was nice/kind. He’s nice/kind.  I also wanted someone who was funny.  Well…fail on that. He’s NOT funny. (Red Flag) But I figured that because I’m funny, we’d laugh at the shit I said. And we did.  Trust me when I tell you that I have the enviable ability to be funny for several people at once. 
Anthony--- not his real name but we have to call him something-- and I met online.  He was a welcomed change to the derelicts that had approached me. His note to me was clever and smart and articulate. While he lived in the ‘burbs, he worked not too far from where I worked.
From the moment we met I just felt as though it was wrong.  First of all, we didn’t have THAT much to say to each other. The conversation was a struggle. (Red Flag) Second of all, I had never, in my years of dating met a man who wanted in my pants so fast. I mean I get it--- guys like to get laid. But he was down right annoying about it.  (Red Flag) Listen--- I am very sexual woman and I appreciate sex as much as the next person. However, my feeling is that I’ve known you for 5 minutes---what is it exactly that you think you’ve done to earn an all access pass to my vagina.  Answer---Nothing.  But in due time we had the sex and it was…fine. (Red Flag) Not mind blowing, but how often do you come across sex that is mind blowing?  I found his general personal hygiene lacking. (Red Flag) I am a shower twice a day person. He’s a shower every other day person. I find that disgusting. Sorry.

Another thing about him was his kid. He was slightly obsessed with her. A first I thought it was sweet. I know too many men who don’t spend enough time with their kids. He saw his every weekend.  This is something that I respected. During the 10 months we dated he would often say to me, “if you want to do something on the weekend, just tell me and I’ll get that weekend off”.  Yeah right. A friend of mine was getting married and I asked if would go with me. He right away agreed. As we got closer to the wedding he started asking me if the kid could come. (Red Flag) Ummm what? No she can’t.  This went on for weeks. Day of wedding he shows up and here’s how it went down:

Anthony: I won’t lie to you; I almost brought her with me anyway.
Me: What? Where would she have sat? We’re going to wedding that we had to RSVP to.
A: I dunno, my lap?        
Me: You’re out of your mind.

On the way to the wedding he lamented to me how much he missed his “little girl” and that we would have to include her in all future outings.  The next morning this man jumped up out of my bed at 7:03 am and ran out of my place in order to link up with his “little girl”.  (Red Flag)

The first time I spent the day with them I observed behavior that was just down right weird to me.  Nothing huge--- just little things that I found strange for 13-year-old girl to still be tolerating. I know I’m not a parent, but A. I have spent my life around kids and know kids really well. B. I have friends who have kids and I have seen them in action (and I would ask them questions) and finally C. I’m pretty intuitive and have the ability to peep out weird shit.  The big thing that I found bizarre was at dinner he took a napkin and methodically tucked it in her shirt.  I swear I thought it was a joke.  Every single time we went out, he did it. And she let him! I asked him about it and his response to me was “It’s our thing and she lets me do it. So what?”  It’s weird you idiot, that’s what. 

Why did I bother with this guy? In spite of everything that I’ve shared (and there is plenty more that I haven’t) I DID like him. He was a calming presence on me.  I introduced this man to my friends and family.  The feedback was pretty much what I expected.  “Seems nice” “Kinda corny---but nice” “He really seems to like you” “He’s really smart” Etc etc.  With the exception of one person. 

My cousin and I are really close. I love her tremendously and I know she feels the same way about me.  Things happen in our family and we are often the two who exchange the WTF look.  We are cousins by blood but friends by choice.  At our grandfathers funeral they wouldn’t let us sit together because they know we are foolish together.  She met Anthony and told me exactly what she thought. “Pompous” “Boring” “Arrogant” During dinner she texted me #teamotherguy (name of my ex—That Guy) Honestly I was pissed.  She met him for one evening didn’t really talk to him all that much, but came up with a definitive conclusion about him that I felt was unfair and frankly a little mean.  We’ve discussed it since, and she has explained that she just felt he was wrong for me. Which, actually, it turns out that he is. Just not for the reasons that she felt.

Breaking up with someone is hard. Especially if they feel blind sided, which he apparently does.  He also thinks that I broke up with him because (due to the WLS) that my life is going to change and I'm going to want someone "better".  This is not the case. I feel badly, not because I think I made a mistake, but because I hurt someone who cares about me. But this is my life and I owe it to myself to seek out happiness and not settle for anything less.

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

27 days out...


This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name! – Fort Minor “Remember the Name”


27 days out…

The weeks since my surgery seemed to have flown by. I am in the pureed stage and am approaching the solid food stage.  To be honest, the pureed stage has been disgusting. Like my friend said to me today, mush is mush. Boy is it ever! 

I won’t lie kids; this past week has been rough.  I got my period January 2nd and have only lost 2lbs since then.  Please do not get me started on the fact that I got my period a week early and it’s been dragging on for 7 days, with no end in sight.  Being 41 currently sucks ass and can move on to sucking all the dicks.  I’m beyond frustrated by this. I was loosing weight really quickly and it was exciting.  However, I am happy to share that  as I type this I’m wearing a pair of pajama bottoms that haven’t fit in years.  That makes me happy.  But WTF is up with the stall? I called my doctor’s office and the nurse said that sometimes this happens but I have not reached the slow down stage yet.  Let me tell you right now, I am not interested in any stall or any delays. I want to reach my WLG (weight loss goal) YESTERDAY. 

I’m having a hard time with food too. I’m still watching the Food Network like its porn and I spend a lot of time thinking about food.  Things that are juicy. Things that are savory. Things are tasty and crispy and full of buttery goodness.  I know that the hunger is in my brain.  Over the past few weeks, I’ve had lots of company.  I know I probably should not have been cooking and baking for other people, but I have been.  I know I know, bad idea.  Being in the kitchen so much has made me keenly aware of how often I start to eat or lick this and that.  Kudos to me, because for the most part, I haven’t been. (Keeping a sugar free sucking candy in my mouth helped that, quite a bit) I will tell you something. I have found it interesting/appalling/eye-opening to me that my natural way of being is to sort of eat mindlessly.  Here is the thing and this is the thing I know for sure. This is it. My last shot at looking, feeling and being normal. Oh I’m sure that the Fat Acceptance Movement (FAM) would have a field day with me. 

If anyone from FAM is reading, calm down a second and hear me out.  I am supportive (no, really I am) of everyone’s right to accept themselves the way that they are, so long as they feel that they are the best "them" they can be.  I terrible truth is that I just don’t feel that I am at my best right now.  I think that the best of me is yet to come… in every way. Not just my size. 

I have said this before and it stands true. I will not be happy until certain things happen for me. In order for me to be happy I have to finish college, become a better writer, find my purpose in life, become a wife (a mother?), own a home and be at a desired weight.  There are more. But those are, in no particular order, the top 6 life goals of yours truly.  Happiness will not begin and end with the size of my waist or the number on scale.  I know that.  I could be a size 6 (which I don’t want to be) and be miserable.  But I know that I will feel better when I can walk up the subway steps without the wheeze. I will feel happiness when I can tell someone, honestly, that I went to such and such College and graduated with a degree in whatever.  There will be a certain pride when I purchase my own home where I can paint the walls whatever color I want or better yet, knock down a wall just cause I want to. I will find satisfaction when I have a piece that I have written and can share with people. Not like a secret blog where I mostly bitch about the bullshit that happens to me.  There will be joy in my heart when I introduce a friend to my new husband.  There will be no greater jubilation then when I finally figure out what my purpose in life is.  Like it or not those are, just a few, of the things that will make me happy. I don’t hate myself. I just know that I can be better all around. 

I would like to see myself do it.