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”.

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