Larger than Life

I was wrestling with my food demons last night, running through my litany of self-talk. Addressing a chunk of teriyaki steak from a half-eaten Applebees kabob, I said, "I don't need to eat you. I don't want to eat you. You are not bigger than me and can't make me eat you."

(I know, I know. I talk to food.)

Then I had this thought: I have often perceived food, namely my obsession with it, as something bigger than myself. In fact, many things in my world that feel like they are out of my control, beyond my understanding, at odds with my desires or needs, have always been perceived as BIG in my mind's eye.

So I wonder if I made myself physically larger by eating to try to be "bigger" than the problem. The more I struggled with food, the bigger I became. If I was bigger than the problem, then I could beat it.

Now I'm small and I think I finally could be bigger than the problem.

Shameless Plug

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C'mon. Just buy it. Pretty please?

Pound for Pound

The vacation weight is coming off. It's been a difficult week of trying to stay off the scale and stay focused, making good choices and being aware of what and why I'm eating, not drinking too many calories and drinking enough water.

But the pounds are coming off. This morning I weighed in at what I had the morning of my lowest consecutive weight. Now it's a matter of seeing it three days in a row. Or not...maybe it will keep going down.

I was pretty desperate to get the weight back off, but soon realized that a year post-op is a lot different than a month. Losing weight really isn't a given anymore. It helps that you don't have a grumbling stomach and it's a lot easier to load up on water. That's about it.

So I simply went back to basics. Protein shake every morning. Sensible lunch. Sensible dinner. Controlled snacking. Sounds like a Special K commercial.

I've heard of some post-ops so desperate to continue losing weight that they forgo eating regular food and stick to an extremely limited and rather unbalanced diet--or resort to frequent enemas. Sure, stick a hose and a quart of water up your butt to lose a half pound.

I think those behaviors are just as screwed up as mine. Hey, I'm not judging. I think I'm at least to a point where I can see how my eating behaviors are screwed up. And that, my friends, is the point at which you can at least try to change them.

Wish me luck. Again.

Welcome to the other side...

Word from Susan in California is that sassy sister and pin-up girl Danyele came through surgery just fine.

And darling Brooke is also up and running again. What a fooker!

The world will never be the same!

The good, the bad, the ugly.

The good: I'm home. Vacation in Scottsdale was relaxing...lots of long hours lounging by the pool, a trip to the Grand Canyon, a ride in a hot air balloon, champagne breakfast in the dessert, shopping for my new fall wardrobe, whizzing through three novels. I loved just about every minute of it.

The bad: food. I've long said that this blog keeps me accountable and so it will today. I gained weight on vacation. Not just "that time of the month" weight. Not water weight. Just plain old "stuff your face like a pig" weight. No, I didn't eat full-size meals three times a day. But I often ate more than I should. A lot more.

We'd go out to eat for one meal a day. I'd taste this incredible food and then I couldn't stop eating. It was like some switch flipped in my head and I was going to eat until I was sick and sore. Vacation was just an excuse to indulge in all those old, screwed up reasons for eating.

As the week went on, it seemed like I cared even less. But the truth is it bugged me more and more, and I could not stop myself. Never once since my surgery have I felt as out of control with food as I did this past week.

The ugly: Flight 833 from Phoenix to Milwaukee.

Two chocolate chip cookies. I normally wouldn't have even taken them, but I was going to give them to Rose. They sat on the tray, smelling so heavenly and looking like they were just the right temperature to break them apart and watch the melted chocolate string from one half to the other. And it did just that when I broke one. That first taste in my mouth coated my tongue, sweet hitting just the right spot, a salty bit working its way in there. The swallow was divine. It was the first bite of a fresh-baked chocolate chip cookie I'd had in a year. It was the best one in my whole life.

Before I had even realized that first bite was down my throat, I took another and swallowed it. Then another. I never even thought about it until the half-chewed wedge scraped the back of my mouth. What the hell was I doing?

I sat there dumbfounded. I wanted to cry because I felt like I just took this horrific turn for the worse. Yes, it was another bad choice on top of a week of bad food choices. But who was I fooling? I didn't want to give the cookies to Rose. And if I did, how supportive is that of her? She had her own two cookies! I wanted those cookies for myself. I was tired. I was sad that vacation was ending. I was stressed about returning to work. Those cookies were going to make everything ok.

So this morning I stood on the scale and let the numbers scream at me. How long will it take to knock off those flippin' pounds? What am I going to have to do to make them disappear? There's a reason I'm a scale whore and that's because the damn contraption keeps me on a short leash and smack-dab in the middle of a narrow path.

Back to basics for me. I'm doing two days of protein. I'm cleaning out the cupboards in case there are any lingering foods of temptation. And I'm not flying Midwest for at least 2 months.

Mile High Club

I hit the bottom and bounced back up. Guess what I did this morning!

Falling off the face of the earth

At the last moment, I was rescued. Lucky you.

What I eat...

Danyele asked a question in response to my post below about the nutritionist visit. Do I journal what I eat and what do I eat at 1-year out?

Well, I journal when I feel like I'm slipping and not paying attention to either portion control or overall amount of food consumed during the day. When I journal I use Fitday or Calorie-Count. (Links at right. I'm lazy.)

What I eat varies from day to day, but it generally boils down to this:

Breakfast: Protein shake made with either RTD shake with added protein scoop or fat-free milk and protein scoop.

Beverage: Tassimo latte (2 shots espresso, 1 t-disc)

Snack: yogurt or South Beach cereal bar

Lunch: 2-3 oz. protein, such as chicken, turkey, tuna, shrimp with 2-3 oz. salad or veggie side or unsweetened applesauce.

Snack: 1 piece fruit (apple, peach, nectarine or banana) or baby carrots or zucchini sticks with ranch dressing.
Dinner: 3-4 oz. protein, such as chicken, turkey, fish, shrimp, beef or pork with 2-3 oz veggie side or salad.

Snack: 1-2 oz cheese and 2 crackers or peanut butter and crackers.

Beverage: Tassimo latte (2 shots espresso, 1 t-disc)

PlusÂ…48-64 oz. water or other liquids

I don't generally eat all those snacks. But I do give myself permission to have them if I feel hungry or want to eat. I usually will have a snack in the late afternoon just because if I don't eat, have a tendency to eat too much for dinner.

I don't really count calories, but I think I probably end up around 1200-1500 a day on big days. 900-1100 on normal days.

I try to stay away from processed starches and don't eat bread for the most part because it's evil and leads to eternal damnation--for me at least.

I really need a lot of variety to keep me happy, so I do vary what I eat. I do crave fruits and veggies and will feel yucky if I don't have at least one serving of them a day. I think that, for the most part, I eat a balanced diet that's what most healthy people should eat--just smaller portions. I like that fact that I really can go just about anywhere and find food to make me happy.

Nutrition Facts

I had my 1-year post-op visit with the nutritionist on Thursday. It went very well. She seems to feel that I'm hitting my protein counts, have learned to incorporate fruits and veggies into my diet and am keeping up on calcium. All things she said that she doesn't regularly see people doing at 1-year out, especially the part about having balanced variety in a diet. A+ for me.

Surprisingly, I didn't do my normal pre-appointment starvation diet where I don't eat or drink a thing before a weigh in. I did that for my 1-year surgeon appointment. But not this time. I guess it's starting to sink in that after losing a ton of weight, what's one or two pounds up or down from the lowest?

I left her office feeling pretty good about where I am, but definitely aware of what I need to do over the next year and beyond to maintain the weight loss.

One other thing...she thought I looked good, like I really didn't have anymore weight to lose. Interesting coming from a professional. I must be getting close.

Anniversary

Yesterday was the 2nd anniversary of my commitment ceremony with Rose. We've been together since '94. In '04, we celebrated 10 years with 100 friends and family members in attendance at a church ceremony, followed by a beautiful outdoor reception.

I don't even recognize these people in this photo. I remember looking at this picture when it came back from the photographer and thinking that Rose looked beautiful and I looked like a fat pig. Even now, I see the outfit I didn't want to wear, but settled for because it was the one that fit. I see the sweat trickling down my fat face. I see how I practiced holding my bouquet so that it covered the mound of flesh in the middle of my body. Why the hell didn't someone tell me that there was no way 24 roses would cover enough of me to make a difference?

It pains me to look at this picture. It reminds me of how we were, how I don't want us to be anymore.

My weight loss forced a lot of changes on both of us. We weren't ready for hardly any of them. Neither of us had even a small inkling of how far-reaching the effects of my surgery would be. If someone would have told us we'd separate 18 months after this photo was taken, we would have laughed at them.

But here we are. We celebrated our anniversary by moving more of my stuff from the apartment back to the house. I officially gave notice to the landlord when I paid the September rent. The separation is over. We managed to weather it all and still find each other in the midst of finding ourselves.

We're lucky. I know. I wish I had a picture of us today. Together.

By definition

I wonder when my universe will stop revolving around the fact that I've lost this huge amount of weight in a short period of time.

Will I ever be--or can I ever be--just Jen? If I had lost the weight through conventional dieting, I suppose some day I'd just be a thin version of me. But because I had my innards reorganized and permanently altered, will I always be a gastric bypass patient?

Right now it's still easy to let it define my life. I have different eating habits and different nutritionals requirements because of it. It keeps me set apart from people in some ways.

But I'm at this point now where I'd like to let it start taking the back seat at family gatherings and in conversations with friends. I could just be me and worry about the last 10 pounds to lose like every other American woman.

Sometimes, though, I worry that I need the definition. What if there's nothing special enough about me to set me apart from people other than the surgery? What if it really is the only thing that makes me interesting?

We wear these labels around our lives. Some times they get slapped on us, some times we paste them on ourselves. I think they're probably like bumper stickers...they stick on us, making statements, getting all grimy and tattered, until we get up off our asses and peel them off ourselves. So what do you do then with the suddenly clean spot where the old one was? Stick on another?