6 Month Anniversary

Left: Today at 212... Right: June 2006 at 317

My surgery was six months ago today on Aug. 26, 2005.

Spare Change

I'm at that point in my weightloss when I'm beginning to realize just how much my life is changing, my perceptions are morphing and my reactions are evolving as the pounds come off.

I can walk through a restaurant without planning my weaving exit through narrow, constricting aisles. I see that I am not the same shape I was six months ago. I am less likely to think that laughing people in a room are snickering at me.

I've been adamant that "I" have not changed...that deep down, I'm the same Jen I always was. But now I know that this isn't true. How can I possibly be that same person living under pounds of smoldering, suffocating, crippling hot fat? How could I have gone through whirlwind months of constant, swift and drastic change without evolving into someone else, another Jen. The new and improved, fast-acting, tamper-resistant Jen.

But there's a catch. There's always a catch, right? I'm moving forward, but the rest my world is standing still. Everyone else seems to be two steps behind me. And some people, I think, don't even know what's happening yet! Or, they can't even accept that I'm changing.

I've said this to several people: I cannot go back to Fat Jen even if I wanted to. I could gain back the weight. I could eat myself to death. But I would always and forever be different because I've had this sweet, satisfying taste of a thinner me. And I like her. I like me. I can't remember a time in my adult life when I could say that with any ounce of sincerity.

I wish I could do something to bring everyone up to speed with me, yank them onto my sassy little bandwagon. But the new me doesn't even want to expend the energy. It is not my responsibility to make them better, make them understand, make them comfortable. The only allegiance I owe is to myself.

(Note to self: read this post 10 times a day for the next week and stop apologizing)

Sassy Sisters Travel North

My Sassy Fatty Sisters Katie and Dagny braved the bitter cold and headed to Wisconsin for a Sunday afternoon adventure . After hours gallivanting about Wisconsin, (read about it on Dagny's Blog,) they headed over to my home for a simply deli-i-i-i-i-ghtful visit.

All the lesbian karma wore off on Sister Katie. She oohed and aahed over my wedding photos. She worshipped Dusty, the lesbian fashion doll in her bridal outfit.

She even watched two back-to-back episodes of The L Word. And when I thought she couldn't take it anymore, she surprised me by popping "the question" to dear Dagny. I cried. It was really quite lovely.

I'm hoping they'll ask me to be a bridesmaid. Now that I've lost so much weight, I could go shopping at David's Bridal Store and possibly fit into some of those hideous dresses. And yes, I would wear a dress if they got married.

Maybe they'd let me stamp their wedding invitations...

Drum roll, please

And the results are in...

101 pounds!

I've reached my first major milestone and can now say with confidence that I am down over 100# since surgery on 8/26/05. I feel like I've never done anything as meaningful as this in my whole life. Maybe because I did this for myself, I've actually stuck to the plan and changed some habits in my life. And I'm healthy. Healthier than I've been during any of my adult life.

Ramblings

I went to a party after work tonight and saw several people who haven't seen me since before my surgery. That was interesting. One person didn't even recognize me. A few others did double takes. Some people told me they liked my haircut, but failed to say anything about the weightloss. I don't care that they didn't say anything--it was just strange that they said something about my hair which is really such minor change compared to losing a couple of 4th graders in mass.

Crazy busy week for me. Long hours at work. Teaching a class on Friday night and getting ready for that. A day-long biz seminar on Saturday. More stuff on Sunday. Oh, but a potential shopping trip to IKEA on Monday in celebration of President's Day. If Monday's plans fall through, I'm call the day Vice-President's Day because my intentions will all be shot to hell.

I started an on-line class on emotional eating sponsored by OH. We'll see if it's worth it.

I tasted chocolate lava cake on Valentine's day. The first nibble was wasted because I was talking as I put it in my mouth. I took another small taste and felt like I was eating chocolate for the very first time in my life. And then I took a third and final bite just to make sure I wasn't fooling myself. Nope. Just as good. But the 2 tsp. of chocolate heaven didn't sit so well in my gut. I was miserable for the next hour or so. However, it was worth that moment of feeling like I tasted something for the first time.

I've been focusing on protein and water for the past 2 days. Plenty of shakes and liquids. I had a regular meal on VD. And then today I had cheese and some blackbean shrimp thingy tonight. I'm going to get to my next goal, damnit. I feel it coming on.

I know some people claim a scale victory as soon as it hits the low point, but my deal with myself (since I weigh every day) is that my scale has to read the same 3 days in a row before the loss is official. We're getting close, folks, really close.

Disappointment

I really thought I'd have hit a major weightloss milestone by this weekend. But I haven't. And I'm rather upset about it...disappointed, angry, frustrated and pissed at myself.

How hard can it be for my body to let go of 24 ounces it doesn't even need when it's already given up so much? And why when I think about it does it make me want to shovel food in my face?

All day yesterday I thought about a plate of spaghetti smothered in chunky sauce. I didn't even care about the garlic bread. But somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind, that plate of pasta was festering and tormenting me. I knew I couldn't eat it --and didn't really want to eat. But I wanted to put lots and lots of good tasting stuff in my mouth. Lots. I wanted to fill it up full and have that achey, need to lay down and digest feeling.

And for Valentine's Day, I asked for 10-year old cheddar. How crazy stupid is that? I'm asking for food! Honestly, when I said that, I wanted that frickin' cheese more than jewelry or anything else. I'm embarrassed and ashamed to admit that. But I told Rose to definitely NOT get me cheese (because she really would have). I could use a role of masking tape for my mouth to prevent future phrases of denseness from rolling out...or to keep me from shoveling food in.

What they say about having surgery on your stomach and not your brain is so true. Damn them.

The people that you meet

Two things.

1. Yesterday I saw a therapist. I've been wanting to start this since early on after my surgery. And my recent cranky-crabby-freako thinking made me realize I had better get off my ass and do it. If couldn't lose weight on my own, what makes me think I can fix whatever it is that's screwed up in my head on my own? Not that I'm a psycho or anything. But I know enough about myself to realize when I need some guidance from someone with a bit more insight than myself.

2. Tonight I met a young girl that I hope to mentor. She's sweet and a little bit sassy. And I see a lot of myself at age 12 in her. She thought I was cool. I could be her flippin' mother, and she still thought I was cool. She likes to read and write, and some day she wants to be a judge. I think I love her already.

It's interesting to me how so many connections in my life are starting or stopping. Ones that seemed like they'd last are suddenly tenuous. Those newly formed seemed remarkably electrified. I feel like people who've just met me know me better than people who've been around me so much of my life. I can think of very, very few instances where my interactions with and reactions to people haven't changed since my surgery. Yet I'm still not convinced--or feel--that the essence of who I am has been altered.

And isn't it a bit ironic that the same week I seek help because I don't feel strong enough is the exact time I open myself up to someone who needs a solid, secure force in her life?

I spent most of my day at work reviewing recipes. I'm a book editor and 95% of the titles I do are food related. I have access to this incredible database of recipes and for most books, I sort through it to come up a brand-new gotta-buy-it idea.

A few months ago it would have driven me crazy with craving if I had to read food all day. Once food was on my mind, my obsession would grow until I had so much food inside of me, I'd want to puke or until I couldn't take it anymore and I'd go to bed to escape it.

I think I'm still obsessed with food--just in a different way. I don't obsess so much about eating a lot and getting in as much as I possibly could without missing out on a single bite. But now I obsess about making the right food choices...how do I know that bite of [fill in the blank]is really worth the space it's going to take up. I can think about dinner from noon until I sit down for that meal. Now, though, when I do sit down to dinner I'm not instantly out of control. I eat what I planned and then move on. Does that make sense?

I don't know if that's healthy or not. Normal or not. I guess I should just be grateful that I can think about food all day without gorging at night. I wish, though, that I wouldn't have to think about food at all.

The People Have Spoken

I woke up early this morning in anticipation of the 8 a.m. deadline for my poll. What would it be? Shopping? Movies? Social withdrawal?

I was cheering for the social withdrawal and had actually cast my own vote for it. (Even W got to vote for himself.)

But as fate would have it, I must now shop. Oh, the torture.

I actually did do some shopping yesterday and snagged myself a swimsuit (shudder) for an upcoming cruise, some casual tops, 2 pairs of dress slacks for work and...my very first little black dress! Why yes, that slinky black sheath is a size XL (18-20 Lands' End MISSES!), thanks for asking.

I will, however, force myself to go shopping again. Maybe this time for some strappy black shoes. I had a few other non-clothing items on my shopping list, but I took care of those yesterday, too. Shoes. It's shoes, I swear.

If you enjoyed altering the course of my life, why not play social scientist with Craig! This poor guy needs help with Valentine's Day and is hosting a contest of his own on his site: www.renewedreflections.com. Give the man a hand. I'd say you could be a winner...but I'm going to win. Sorry you're going to miss out on that $50 gift certificate. I need it for my credit card bill.

My fate is in your hands...

Obviously, I've been in this dark, murky place in my head for the past week or so. The muck is getting thicker, but it's not going to keep this Sassy Fatty Loser down. So I'm going to do something to cheer myself up and try to break this cloud of gloom and doom.

Want to help? Please vote in my newest poll (at right.) I've given you a few options. Whichever one has the most votes on Sunday morning at 8 a.m. CST is the one I'm going to do. Maybe. I do reserve the right to change my snarly mind.