The Frazzled Scribe

First let's get the business out of the way:

Date of surgery: 326 lbs.
Today: 294 lbs.
Total Weight lost: 32 lbs.

Ok, so I am writing now because my stomach has finally decided to act like it has some daggone sense. I must say that the routine nature of my life is quite comforting. I'm back to work, exercising, trying to keep up with my meds and vitamins and just generally feel really peaceful.

Good things are happening people. Guess what? I just landed my first writer job!!! Seriously, the word "writer" will be in my job title! I am all at once excited and completely petrified. It's interesting to me how low self esteem can creep into even your happiest moments. I mean, I know I'm a good writer (if feedback from others counts as knowledge that is). Deep down in my heart I love to write. But in that moment of finding out I got the job, I couldn't help but think "what if I suck at it?" Self-doubt is so not hot.

In reality, I think that's part of what my unhealthy life has been about. Committing myself to fail so horribly instead of being brave and taking the chance to be successful. Everyone makes mistakes (especially me), but the brave person learns from them and keeps on striving. The meek person builds a shelter around them and fortifies themselves against change. I don't want to be that meek person anymore. I want to use the talent that God gave me. I want to realize the optimal human form that I can have. And why shouldn't I? I deserve it. You guys don't know how much therapy it takes to actually be able to say the previous sentence without going "yeah right" in your head. I deserve it!

In less Dr. Phil-esque news (well, maybe not), I find myself more and more interested in my aesthetic lately. Not that I ignored how I looked before. I was mildly concerned but frankly I had given up on myself a ways back. These days I long for a manicure and pedicure and I actually am thinking about having a facial. The point is this. There is a whole big world full of things to do that have nothing to do with eating and I'm discovering that. I know I've said it a zillion times, but I had no idea that food was such a big part of my life. I was centered around it and the results of overeating dominated my life. These past few weeks have been like being reborn in more ways than one. Things seem more possible, like a blank slate for me.

Plus, I can't drink too much without being burped. But that's a story for another day! I'm out.

That last post was really depressing. Yeesh.

Seriously, though. These emotional highs and lows are to be expected as I work to try to change my lifestyle. And make no mistake, people, this is hard work. Imagine if someone told you...from now on you must breathe out of your ears. It's silly, I know, but I'd liken the adjustment to that. At first you have no idea what to do, how to start, you're afraid. Then slowly you start to figure it out: what works and what does not, how the changes affect you and you learn so much about who you were before that you never even thought about.

A good friend of mine told me that obesity is the symptom. So to successfully change my life I have to complete the sentence "In my life, obesity is the symptom of..." I won't detail my lengthy answer to this question. There are many factors, many reasons why I chose to abuse my body for so many years. I won't burden you with them all. The most important thing I learned (or, perhaps, rediscovered is a better word) is that I am a person with unique qualities, interests, likes, dislikes, quirks, irks and all the rest of it. So I hold on to that when I feel lost (which happens quite often in this food-centric world of ours) and it makes me feel hopeful.

So anyway, back to work Monday. I don't know how I feel about that but it's my job and I'm going to it! I went to my first gastric bypass support group meeting. That was nice, even though I was wickedly nauseous from a new med I began taking that day. I met people who'd reached their goals. One woman, you would never ever have known she was ever obese. I hope I reach that point. But the focus has to be on fitness, on health. I cannot get scale obsessed. That's why I decided that after this week (since I've already weighed myself...more on that in a minute) I will only weight myself once every month to track my progress. And I'll only weigh on my doctor's scale.

Speaking of scales, the home ones are notoriously unreliable. I weighed myself Wednesday night and delighted at the number...291. That would have meant a 25 lb. decrease in two weeks. I was suspicious. I don't think my doctor would have praised that number either. He would have demanded to see my food journal and would have been worried. So I thought to myself...self...your house is a classic Pigtonian row house (read: no level floors) and you are weighing yourself on a carpeted surface. So I did what any reasonable gal would do. I took my scale over to the projects to the girl's paternal grandma's house and weighed myself. Why? Because the projects have the most level, hard surfaced linoleum floors this side of any elementary school. On her floor I was 302. I am satisfied with that. One month ago I was 326. In another week I'll be under 300 lbs. for the first time in seven years. But my focus will be fitness and health. It's like a mantra, innit? Fitness and health, fitness, and health. Fitnessandhealth. Fitnessandhealth.

Well, folks, I'm to that point. What point you ask? That point in every WLS patient's post-op recovery where they ask themselves, "what in the hell did I do to myself?" Needless to say, it's been a rough week.

For the last month I have existed on the following foods:

• Sugar-free oatmeal
• Eggs
• Grits
• Sugar-free pudding and/or Jello
• Chicken noodle soup
• Sugar-free popsicles

Deviating from these foods either causes a stomach ache or makes me deathly ill (you all know what that means so don't make me spell it out). So...here I sit, wondering if it is really that important to me to be smaller. Of course it is, but in these moments of doubt I can almost convince myself that the risk of diabetes, heart disease, and early death is worth it to be able to eat something, ANYTHING, that is not on that list.

It's funny to me that I used to love eating. I loved all kinds of food: I loved Indian (shout out to chicken tikka masala), I loved Thai (Drunken Noodles), I loved sushi (Spicy Tuna rolls), I loved Afghani (oh...samosas), I loved Chinese (Shrimp with Lobster Sauce), I loved Ethiopian (except Injera bread), I just loved food and I loved eating. Now? I am most happy in situations where I do not have to think about food. If it was up to me I might never eat again. That sounds depressing and sad and unhealthy but it's the way I feel. I do eat, of course. I eat those lovely foods listed above, but it's not enjoyable. Somehow I think that's the point. You're supposed to eat to live, not live to eat. So I have to start looking at food as a means for sustenance and nothing else. But that doesn't seem fair. Even fit people enjoy eating, don't they?

Oy...let me end this post before it gets depressing. Bottom line: it's been a rough week. It'll get better I'm sure and this is all a part of the process and before you say it, I know that this surgery and the ensuing changes were all my decision but it doesn't make it any less hard, k?