The Frazzled Scribe

I’ve been recapping the Weight Loss Surgery Foundation of America Meet & Greet over on Bariatric Foodie. And I won’t say I’ve been diplomatic in that post, but I’ve held back my personal feelings there. Bariatric Foodie does not take positions in conflicts in the weight loss surgery world. Bariatric Foodie engages post-ops in playing with their food.

The Frazzled Scribe, however? Can say whatever the hell she wants. So…here goes.

Dear Weight Loss Surgery Foundation of America,

Over the past two years I watched with a bit of envy as friends of mine attended your annual meet & greet in Las Vegas. This year, I looked with envy as you announced this would be the “Mother of ALL Meet & Greets” (+1).

When I was asked by a company that works with my blog what events they should consider checking out for 2013, I suggested your event. I also asked that I get a sponsorship to attend said event and the company said yes. I was very pleased, not only because this was my first corporate sponsorship at an event but also because I was getting to go to this mythical, magical thing everyone else was going to.

If I had to rate the entire event on a scale of 1-100%, I’d give this event a 70%. Here’s why.

I enjoyed the comraderie of fellow post-ops, many of whom I know from online. That part was great. Being Vegas (where I’d never been before) was great. Some elements of your event, however, were kind of wonky. Let’s start with the Night in Paris.

Not sure who planned this shindig but here’s a piece of general wisdom for you. If you are going to hold an event anywhere within the realm of what people conceive as “dinner time” you either have to:

A: Serve dinner

B: Make damn sure people know you are NOT going to serve dinner or

C: Serve heavy hors d’ouevres and plenty of them

You did none of the above. The event was at 7. This is still in the dinner time range, especially since people had to get dressed for the event. PLUS you asked people to bring “+1” and many chose to bring their significant others (who are not post-ops).

Now what you did serve, I personally didn’t have much of a problem with. But I have the Wonder Pouch. For newer post-ops, raw veggies might not have been that great of an option. The cheese was a good option but there was very little of it. I missed the cheese. Literally. I didn’t get in line fast enough and the cheese was gone and then there was no more cheese. So, yeah.

Then there was the program. Sigh. I wanted to like the program. I did like the first 25 minutes or so of it. The video you showed of a WLS grant recipient was great. Bringing out the recipient and her sister was great. Announcing the next location was great.

After that things just sort of went to hell.

But I can’t entirely blame you for that, WLSFA. I think in general nonprofits all make the same mistake with events. You don’t give people enough time to talk amongst themselves. Now had you shown the video, intro’d the next award recipient, announced the next location and gotten the hell outta dodge, you know what would have happened. A conversation at each table that would have gone something like this:

“Wow, did you see that lady who got her surgery! So inspiring”

“Yeah, I had no idea WLSFA did that!”

“I wonder how I can get involved.” (Conveniently there would have been a flyer about getting involved on every table in my fantasy.)

“Wow this flyer says we can start a local chapter and fundraise. I think I’ll check that out when I get back home!”

“Yeah definitely. I got the chance to change my life. I’d love to give someone else that chance.”

“Hey do you think you’ll come to this again next year?”

“Yeah, it’s been great seeing everyone and this flyer also says this meet and greet is a fundraiser so I’m in!”

Yep…that conversation would have happened at every table. But instead I watched people tap dance. And no offense to the performers. I think it was cute. There was just too much. I flew in from Baltimore, you see. By 8 p.m. my brain was at 11 p.m. and it was just too much. But even without the jet lag it would have been too much. It made no sense. There was nothing Parisian about what was going on. I admit after the tap dance act I bounced. When you get to the point of being pissed off by an event program, you sometimes need to put YOURSELF on time out. I did.

Ok, so the next day! I worked the exhibition table of the company that sponsored me. I will give you kudos on the exhibition hall. And for the small group discussions. I thought those were great ideas. There was lots of swag to be had so clearly your sponsors saw the marketing opportunities that you yourself missed (I don’t recall being given much information at all about how WLSFA works).

I was feeling pretty good about Saturday. And then came the lunch.

Now, again, I’m no event guru but lunch was…off.

Firstly, we were greeted at our table by a ginormous tray of desserts. Now…I understand they were supposedly sugar-free. But nothing on the table said that so who really knows. To me, you are suspect in the fact that you even put desserts (oh, and bread!) on my table KNOWING that many post-ops can have an adverse reaction to either or both AND that at best, WLS patients are prone to a lack of self-control around starchy carbohydrates. So I’m not seeing how I was supposed to assume the desserts were sugar free. Their very presence was a breech of trust.

The lunch, at first glance, appeared to be served in courses. We first received about a quarter cup of vegetarian chili. It was pretty good. Then we were served literally a handful of salad (and by handful I mean the hand of maybe a five year-old). And it was pretty good. And for a moment I thought you guys genius. Finally, FINALLY someone gets that you don’t frontload a multi-course meal so that a post-op still has an appetite for the entrée.

Except there was no entrée. Oops.

Now many newer post-ops found the amount of food fine. And I’m happy for you. But I’m five years out. A quarter cup of chili and a handful of salad no longer “does it for me.” And obviously not for a lot of people because you know what I saw? Hungry people reaching for the only sustenance available which was…DESSERT!

But the biggest irony was to come. Then Dr. Garth. Fine ass Dr. Garth. Gets up in front of us and talks about how we eat too much processed food.

The moment was just too much for me. I had to live blog it on Facebook.

I wondered if he noticed we were sitting in front of trays of dessert and bread. I dunno. At any rate I heard his “eat more plants” speech several times. I will say this year I was more inclined to be receptive to his message. I am eating more whole foods, less meat (not less protein, just less meat) and I actually feel pretty good. So yay Dr. Garth!

Anyhoo…so that portion of the day wrapped and that night was the “Let Your Star Shine” gala, which I have come to term “Bariatric Prom.” That was really nice. Folks got all dolled up, we took pictures. It was very classy.

By this time my trust in food offerings was gone so I went out to dinner before-hand which seemed a good idea because I came in to see folks eating a good deal of bread and cheese. Whatever. Maybe I am the only anti-bread person in the room. And I’m not even anti-bread. I’m anti “as much as you want” bread type situations. Anyway, I had a glass of wine and kept it moving.

The program consisted of crowning a king and a queen, which was campy but in a cute way. They then recognized donors (which ended up being a major source of drama which I’m not going to speak on at length but I will say that because of the outcome of this I have opted NOT to become involved directly with the WLSFA). And finally Carnie Wilson spoke.

That was the highlight for me. I find her to be a very brave soul. She’s a food addict. And I think she’s lived through a lot of my fears. She had the surgery, lost a lot, stretched her stoma. For her the restriction is what kept her level headed. That scares me. I don’t want to rely on restriction to keep me in check. I want to learn to make better food decisions. That’s not a snipe at Carnie. We each have our own challenges and solutions. For me, I didn’t go into this process wanting to rely on the physical parameters to keep me in check. I wanted restriction to take the edge off while I learned what the hell my problem with food was and corrected it.

Seems it ain’t that easy because I’m still pushing, pushing.

After her keynote she took pictures and met folks. I wasn’t going to go up and say anything, mostly because what I had to say was gonna make me cry. But I figured what the hell.

So I made my way up to her (and got distracted when the “Cupid Shuffle” came on. I have to dance every time it comes on, you see…). So eventually I get to her and I tell her what I have to say. Damn the media. Damn post-ops. Damn everybody else but her family. She did a great thing for her KIDS. And I wanted to encourage her in that. I buried my mother last year because she could not bring herself to do what Carnie did: admit she was powerless and needed help. So I told her to hold onto that and I’d be rooting for her. And yes I cried. And she cried. We both cried together.

That night I decided, as I often do when I am out of town, that it would be my one night to get tore-up drunk. Now you can do a whole PSA on post-op drinking but the reality is this. You can count on one hand how many times a year I consume alcohol. It’s not my addiction. Believe me I’ve battled some transfer addictions but alcohol is not one of them thus far. If it gets out of hand I give you all permission to do an intervention on me, k?

So I drank. And danced. And drank. And danced. And stayed up too damn late.

The next morning was the closing breakfast. And it was the only meal I found to be satisfactory across surgery ages! But that might have been because my stomach was a bit thrown off by the sheer number of margaritas I had the night before. But no…I think it was still good. We had quiche and fruit and coffee. It was good. They did the raffles (I didn’t win anything) and the program closed. I stayed in Vegas another day to see the sights.

So all in all, I think it was an ok event. Next year is in Tampa and, WLSFA folks, I’m not 100% confident I’ll go. Partly because of the aforementioned donor drama but also partly because I don’t want anyone to have to deal with me stuck on a boat after having been underfed. And frankly I don’t trust you to feed me properly.

I was going to try to do the land portion but then the donor drama happened. Like I said I’m not going to go into the nitty gritty but basically I have to say to WLSFA this.

A large group of post-ops came together, despite their reservations, and collected a generous donation for you. It was the largest donation you received at the gala. And you rejected it. Because you don’t like the LEADER of that group.

I work in nonprofit. So I watch this as a nonprofit professional. I tell you that heads would roll if the employees of my nonprofit behaved in the ways that you have. We know here at my nonprofit to take the high road. We approach things with a “the donor is always right” attitude. Yes, we grumble amongst ourselves sometimes but NEVER outwardly. And because we work toward a mission that is larger than any one person we never ever EVER return a donation. That’s just stupid. And wrong. Because think of what that money could have done. Think of who it could have helped. Is your disdain for the leader of that group worth denying a person in need? If it is, I think you need to rethink YOUR mission.

So as a result of that I think I need to find another way to support people who cannot afford to have weight loss surgery. Your response has lacked tact and frankly I wonder if this is how you run your business is my money really doing what you say it will do? How do I know?

Damn, I said no nitty gritty and there I went. Oh well. I have a big mouth.

Ever wondered if you are a “food addict”? Here’s a glimpse inside my head. I am a food addict. Are you?

In general I don’t use alarm clocks. For some reason if I want to wake up at a specific time, all I have to do is look at a clock before I fall asleep and my eyes pop open at the time I want them to.

My mother, before she died, theorized that my brain actually counted down the seconds, minutes and hours.

This could be true. Addicts focus on things like that. And I know when I am awake I literally count the seconds, minutes and hours. Until I can drink after I eat. Until I can get in another meal. Until I’ll be hungry enough to eat. Unfortunately in that order.

But when my internal alarm awakens me at 6:15 a.m. I’m not hungry. At least not physically hungry. And on good days that means I wake up, go to my dresser, where I always stash a bottle of water mixed with a drink stick (so as not to have to go to the kitchen) and have a long swig to wash that “just woke up” feeling from my mouth.

On good days, I’d then proceed to awaken the children (who have the responsibility of feeding the dog in the morning, again, so I don’t have to go into the kitchen) and then go and take my shower.

And on a good day, I’ll have finished that bottle of water and will be ready for my protein shake when I arrive at work, then physically hungry, an hour later.

But then there are the not-so-good days.

On those days I awaken and if it’s been a bad week then I never mixed the bottle of water and put it on my dresser. So now I have to go to the kitchen, you see? And I do so with resignation. Resignation that not only will I leave the kitchen with a bottle of water, flavored with a drink stick, but also having consumed between 3-400 calories while in the kitchen. But it’s not my fault. It’s the kitchen’s fault. You see, kitchens do that to me.

At this point I usually have a bit of a stomach ache. I have a pouch just like any other person who has undergone Roux-en-Y gastric bypass surgery. And just like most of us RNYers my pouch doesn’t particularly like food in the morning. But my brain does. And my brain says it’s been 10 whole hours since we last encountered food. That’s FAR too long. What about our metabolism? Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. And studies show that when you eat close to waking you see a bump in your overall metabolism.

This justification would be convincing if I weren’t scarfing handfuls of Honey Bunches of Oats.

Eventually, after fighting traffic and dropping off my two children (who are perfectly content with a granola bar for breakfast), eventually I land at work.

Here’s where things get interesting.

I had a “meal” when I awakened but it was mainly simple carbs. Now I’m kinda hungry again. So I could have my protein shake (which would probably offset the impending blood sugar drop). But I want a nice cup of coffee. I don’t like protein coffee. It’s what I call an “un-meal.” It fills me up without my brain feeling like it ate something. And that drives me just a little bit nuts. I avoid un-meals at all costs.

Now one of the weird things about me is that I cannot do successive meals of similar tastes. That is to say that if I have the coffee (which is sweet) then I won’t want the shake (which is also sweet). I think about this a moment and decide that since the coffee is lower calorie, I should go with the coffee and ditch the shake.

And this justification might work if I didn’t already know what would happen come lunch time.

Come lunch time, on a bad day, I’ve not packed ahead. I probably had everything I needed at home to pack something nutritious BUT since I went off the rails with cereal I avoided the kitchen at all costs. Kitchens are dangerous. The make me do things I don’t want to do.

So now I’m left to order something. A co-worker asks if I want to go to sushi. Sure! I love sushi. Yes, it has even more carbs but it’s not that unhealthy and besides I have an exercise class this evening and I can work the excess calories off. So off we go to sushi. Where, on a bad day, I can fit an entire sushi roll (sometimes two) into a pouch designed to only hold about a cup of food at five years post-op.

After this I feel full. So full I feel uncomfortable sitting upright. It feels like something might bust open. It feels like maybe I might throw up. And although this is not a good feeling it’s actually a relief. Because it’s not hunger. When I am this full of food, even my brain gives up the ghost. All day long its mantra, running through my head, behind every conversation and thought has been, “foodfood foodfood foodfood foodfood foodfood foodfood foodfood foodfood foodfood foodfood.” It only stops when I am chewing. Then briefly after I eat. Then about an hour later it resumes. But not when I’m full like this.

Getting full like this buys me an extra hour or two.

And getting full like this enables me to do what I probably needed to do all along — become engrossed in something else! And I do. And the rest of the day passes with nary a thought of food. And so does the ride home.

Once I am home, things get interesting again because I’ve always been averse to dinner (as a post-op, that is). It seems so…final. You mean, I can’t eat anything else for the rest of the night? Or just a measly little snack? How the hell is THAT gonna shut up the mantra in my head.

Instead I tend to do the “bits and bites” which I justify by calling them mini-meals. In between those mini-meals I go to work out. And I come back. And eventually my pouch sends some signal to my brain that it’s done for the day and honestly I am relieved. Because between you and I, I’d give my right arm for a few solid hours where some part of my brain was not focused on food.

Interestingly enough, running my food blog helps. Thinking through recipes is more of a problem solving exercise than a food exercise. Food is more scientific than people know. Certain things work together, certain things do not. There is a thrill in finding a combination of things that will work together that create something that is healthy instead of unhealthy. As such, when I plan my food, when I blog my food, when I photograph and write about my food, ironically enough, I eat quite normally.

But on a bad day, this is how it is. That unrelenting mantra in your head. The inability to throw away that last two bites. That inability to go into the kitchen in the morning or late at night. The fact that you had to stop bringing peanut butter into the house because you’d eat yourself sick.

These are all reasons why the cavalier use of the term food addict kinda bug me. But I don’t say so most of the time. I wonder, when people say they are addicted to Cheetos, if they literally go through anything near what I live with each day. But I try not to judge. Because on the outside looking in, I don’t want people judging me.

And in my head I can’t decide which days are harder on my psyche — the bad or the good. On bad days, at the end I feel regretful and sick. Tired and frustrated with myself. On the good days I feel exhausted, because on those days I listened to that damn mantra all day and fought it. I took the paths that avoided temptation but always find they are the “long way around.” I did what I was supposed to do even though I didn’t want to.

While I can’t speak for the mind of every food addict that ever existed, this is the daily reality for me.

So this quote by the president of Abercrombie & Fitch has been going around the internet and recently I put it out there for discussion on Bariatric Foodie’s Facebook Page. One of my Foodies had an interesting response that made me take pause. She said (I am paraphrasing), “Well I can’t shop at Lane Bryant, so how is that any different?”

You ever have a moment where you have a gut feeling you are fairly sure is right but you can’t articulate why? That was such a moment for me. So I took some time to think about it. Went running a few times (the motion bumps together my two remaining brain cells) and here’s what I’ve got.

It is different in a few important ways.

#1: The “Apples & Oranges” argument

To me it’s apples and oranges because of one major reason. The existence of clothing stores like Lane Bryant, Ashley Stewart, etc. are, IN PART, in reaction to the sizing policies of stores like Abercrombie & Fitch. Granted, I’m no plus-sized clothing store historian, but I’d venture to guess that the founding of these specialty stores was to give women a place to shop for clothing in sizes they could not find elsewhere. Also in that mission is, of course, style. Different ones cater to different women. Lane Bryant & Ashley Stewart are very classy/contemporary while, say, Torrid is more for women with a sassier/vampire side.

I’ve noticed lately that stores have sought to become more mainstream but carrying larger sizes. H&M is a good example. I believe their sizing goes up to a XL/18. Sears, JC Penney and other stores have also expanded their offerings of plus sized clothing. All this makes us think that clothing stores are on equal footing. But not so. Many traditional clothing stores that carry plus sizes have wonky sizing structures. I am universally thought to be a size 12. But there are some stores 12’s I can’t fit. Conversely I am too small for a plus-sized store version of a 12. So without universal sizing, I would argue that the NEED for plus-sized clothing stores still exists.

This being the case, I don’t think Lane Bryant et al discriminate against smaller people so much as they fill a gap, a need that persists in the clothing industry: for quality, stylish plus sized clothing.

Conversely, Abercrombie & Fitch exists, in some small way, to DRIVE that need. I know many healthy sized people who can’t wear their clothing. It’s sized small (and now we know it’s probably on purpose) in order to create the illusion of exclusivity. So in my opinion, no, it’s not the same. If (a) all stores carried clothing for all clothing sizes and (b) if clothing sizes went by some universal standard then I would theorize plus sized clothing stores would not need to exist (in theory…there is still the fact that traditional designers don’t seem to have a CLUE how to design for fuller figured people).

#2: The Intent

I can’t wear clothing from Lane Bryant anymore but I CAN wear accessories. And they have cute accessories. There’s an “LB” a block from my house and I often go in and buy bracelets, necklaces, etc.

And nobody tries to stop me. I’ve never gotten sideways looks from the store clerks. Nothing about their advertising says I should not be there (and frankly many of their models are about my height and size).

Most importantly, perhaps, LB, Ashley Stewart, etc. don’t build their branding on a culture of exclusion. So even though their clothing doesn’t fit everyone they also don’t make any assertions that someone wearing their brand that falls outside their target demographic might mess up their brand.

Conversely, that is PRECISELY what the president of A&F is saying. Historically I’ve noticed they are very protective of their brand. I remember a hub-bub about Jersey Shore’s The Situation wearing their clothes. They weren’t too happy about that and said so.

So, the culture of exclusivity is present and active over at A&F. And for the most part that doesn’t bother me. Stores promote images all the time. Yes, some of them are effed up but I think when you deal with anything that requires people using expendable income the first order of business is to sell the fantasy. Once you do that, the consumer will buy the necessary “tools” to make that fantasy their reality.

But, here’s what bugs me…

#3 – The Image

The notion that to be a part of the “in-crowd” you have to be “thin and beautiful.”

Dear Mr. Asshat, I was a cheerleader in high school. I had friends and many people liked me. I had no problem getting a date and was not a wallflower. And all while I was, technically, obese.

The ONLY thing for which I am thankful in this whole scenario is that A&F doesn’t quite have the level of influence it seems to think it has. This story has gotten some outrage but mostly eye-rolls from what I’ve seen.

Because if they DID have such influence over our culture and collective self-image then I’d be very afraid for our society. To define society in that way is not only dangerous but inaccurate. I know plenty of cool kids who aren’t thin. I have no conception of a concrete definition of beautiful but many didn’t have commercial looks. Instead they relied on such crazy things as their personality, wit, intelligence and humor…you know…frivolous things like that.

Conversely, Lane Bryant and Ashley Stewart in particular have almost been bucking the image trend. Both have been criticized in the past for using “smaller models” but both stores are getting better with that. It’s clear to me in their advertising that the models they use could actually wear the clothes straight off the rack, but they’ve also recognized that there are women who shop there that are in the lower spectrum of their size range and, dammit, they have needs too! I know I personally would feel equally intimidated as a size 12 woman going into a store that magnifies size 18 women as I am about being a size 12 person going into a store that magnifies size 6’s.

In the end, I just want to go into a store and know that whatever I choose to buy, it’s ok.

So, those are my thoughts. The president of Abercrombie & Fitch is an ass. And insofar as he sets the tone for the culture of that particular store, I find the A&F brand to be divisive, not exclusive. Immature, not forward thinking. I never really liked their clothes so to me a boycott wouldn’t make much impact.

BUT I will say that we need to think critically about these issues. How do they affect our sons and daughters? Our nieces, nephews, cousins, sisters and brothers? Are we supporting brands that affirm them or condemn them to some second-class citizen status?

For my part, I’m raising two “bigger than the average” girls and they are gorgeous. I talked to them about this and they summed it up well by saying, “It’s ok when clothing stores don’t sell your size but it’s not ok to say that your size is wrong.”

Truer words have never been spoken.