March Update

 I started this on the 10^th of March.  It’s now the 28^th and I’m finally finishing it.  Sue me… been a little busy.  I go back to Dr. Long on the 13^th of April.

3/10/11

So, I’m updating sooner than 3 months.  Finally, right?

Dr. Long’s scale yesterday – 256.6 (-58.4)

My home scale yesterday – 254 (-61)

My wii game today – 251 (-64)

So much on my mind lately.  I go in my head a lot and I’ll think of something and think, man, that’s a good blog topic.  So, I started keeping a list of topics so I can jog my memory and come back and write about it.

Tonight’s topic is a major one for me as I inch closer to my first mini-goal.  I went to see Dr. Long and Nurse Brian yesterday.  I love these guys.  They have given me my life back through the surgery.  Brian reminds me every time I go there that I’m human and I’m allowed to EAT even though I’ve had surgery.  He’ll ask me how I did this month and I’ll say, oh, I’ve had a bad day and he’ll laugh at me when I tell him my version of a bad day.  He rolls his eyes and says give me a break.  As long as it’s one day and not forever, everyone is allowed to have “those” days.

Why am I so critical of myself?  I’ve always been my own worse critic.  Goes back to that measuring thing that I am really trying to stop doing.

So tonight’s topic is:  Owning my success and not being scared to succeed.

This is huge for me.  I am now about 10-12 pounds away from hitting my lowest weight from when I was doing weight watchers (depends on the scale I’m on as to how many pounds.).  I’ve set my 1^st goal at 242.2.  That’s the lowest I ever weighed during my weight watcher years.  I had done so well and thought I had the food thing under control.  I was so excited.  I was fitting into sexy clothes and felt better than I had in a long time.  I mean to lose 72.2 pounds is huge.  That’s the equivalent of losing a 3^rd grader.  Go lift a 3^rd grader (get permission first) and see how hard that is to carry around.  I carried that with me every single day. 

I think the biggest difference this time as opposed to the weight watcher years is that I’m quieter about it.  I’m actually afraid to talk about my success too much because the last time I was obsessed with each little change in my appearance and body and all I talked about was points and weight loss.  I got on everyone’s nerves.  Friends and husband.  I had become addicted to it.  So this time, I celebrate a little more quietly and try to consider whom my audience is when I talk about it.  The first time, I alienated my friends and family because I didn’t know how to handle success.  Don’t get me wrong, however.  If someone asks have I lost weight, I say yes.  If they asked me how I did it, I’m honest and say surgery.  If they want to know more, I tell them, but I wait for them to ask me.  I also don’t try to push my ideas about food and weight loss on others.  They know I’m here and what I’ve done and am doing.  If they want help, or information, I’d be more than happy to talk about it.  But I think I’ll wait to be asked this time around instead of volunteering the information.  Not everyone cares what I have to say J 

In our family, it was expected you did a job well because it was your job and that’s what you do.  You don’t do it because you think you’ll get rewarded or pats on the back.  So in our family, if you were successful, it wasn’t celebrated.  We weren’t paid to get good grades, we were expected to do it or we got punished.  We were paid an allowance for chores, but once we started earning our own money, we bought our own things.  For example, if we wanted more than basic jeans or shoes, we paid for them.  So, I’ve never been good at patting myself on the back or rewarding myself for a job well done.  That was considered bragging and we didn’t do that.

So as I became successful in my weight loss, I also became scared.  I remember my weight watcher leader saying to me and another woman that we both were so close to the 75 lb mark, that she had ordered our certificates.  She knew we would reach that goal.  Just knew it.  Shortly thereafter, I hit my plateau and started the slide back down the hill I had just climbed.  It was like I hit a mental block.  Friends were sick of hearing it, husband was sick of hearing it.  I’ve put the blame on a talk I had with Tony back then, when he told me our friends were complaining to him that all I ever talk about is my weight loss.  But in hind site and in all honesty, I have to accept part of that blame.  I did it to myself. 

So, as I inch closer to my first mini goal, I’m scared.  I’m afraid of hitting that mark and pushing past it.  I’m safe where I am.  And for those who know me well, safety is a huge thing for me.  I’m trying not to focus on the past failures, but looking for the new successes.  I’m trying to remain positive.  Failure is really not an option for me since I have band.  When I overeat, I hurt.  And when I hurt, I hurt badly.

I do want to succeed this time.  I want to be able to look back and remember where I came from and the journey I took to get to my goal.  I’m fitting into clothes that I haven’t worn in years.  I’m back into the weight watcher clothes that have been in my closet and under my bed waiting for me to rescue them.  Some of them are even getting too big already which is the best feeling in the world.

If you have topic suggestions, feel free to email them to me.

More soon, I promise.  The ride is just getting fun J

Long over due...

 Wow… has it really been since December 10^th that I last wrote.  Damn where the heck did 3 months go?  So much has happened since I put the words in my head to “paper”. So much.  I really don’t know where the heck to start so I’ll just jump right in.

In the last year I have made three major decisions.  One was the decision that I wasn’t a happy person and come hell or high water, I was going to start finding out what would make me happy and take the steps necessary to find happiness, tackle it, tie it up and keep it with me.  Two, I hated the way I looked and how much weight I had gained that I was going to finally do something about it, either on my own or with the assistance of surgery.  And last as part of finding my happiness, I realized that after 20 (almost 21 years of marriage) that was one of the things making me unhappy so I decided to separate.  That was probably the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life.  That was on January 14^th. 

I can’t say that I won’t discuss what happened in some of my writings as time goes on because I was literally married for half of my life.  Being married was who I was, and helped mold me into who I am, at least partly.  For those of you who are friends with Tony, some of what I write may not be easy for you to read.  I’m not trying to tarnish him in your eyes and he’s not a bad person, but some of what I went through married is why I have some of the issues that I write about in my blogs. That’s life.   I am in counseling now and working on some of the problems and resentments I have carried with me all these years.

I’m not ready to discuss that on this posting, but just wanted to warn everyone.

On the weight loss front:

OMFG… I’m having fun and remember why I did weight watchers 6 years ago. 

Highest weight recorded: 315

Highest at Dr. Long’s:  312

Feb 9^th weigh in at Dr Long’s:  260

Scale at home is saying: 257

Total lost from highest to now:  58 lbs

I go back to Dr Long’s on March 9^th.  I haven’t done as well this month as I did last month.  I can feel it.  Last month I had lost 9 lbs.  That’s not expected with lap band surgery.  But I’m not complaining.

I am beyond excited.  I only have another 15 or so to go and I’ll be at my lowest weight ever.  Look out world.  I say that but don’t believe.  Because the more I lose the weight and am happy for it, the more scared I get because I’m losing the me I’ve always known. 

I don’t know how to be thin.  I know that sounds so weird, but I really don’t.  I was a normal size girl up until about the 4^th/5^th grade.  Around that time, I started to develop and never seemed to stop.  I got boobs early.  And not just your usual training bra type but I got adult size boobs on a 6^th grade girl.  That draws a lot of attention from pre-pubescent boys.  I became self conscious about them and the attention they brought and would eat to escape.  And I eventually learned to use my boobs as a way to get attention (remember bad attention is still attention).  And I learned to use my fat as a security blanket.  I could make jokes about it.  As long as I was joking about it first, than others couldn’t say something mean and hurt my feelings, right?  I’ve pretty much spent most of my life in a plus sized body.  As I keep getting smaller, I don’t have that fat to hide behind anymore.

Through counseling I’m learning not to measure myself against other people.  That is very hard to do in this society.  We’re taught at a young age if you’re not thin enough, or pretty enough, or popular enough, you aren’t good enough.  How horrible is it that we teach children to believe in that?  How much pressure does it put on your children and then how much damage does it do as those children become adults?  Me, I always thought of myself as the ugly one in the family.  I had my sister Marie who was tiny and could sing and had great legs and was beautiful.  I had Ann who was tiny, beautiful and all the boys adored her.  Then, there was me.  The chunky one.  The one no one seemed to notice.  Except for how big I was.  That’s how I saw things growing up.  I was always bigger than them; I was never pretty like them.  Remember, this is how I saw myself.  No one ever said that to me, but it’s what has gotten in my head and is taking a long time getting out.  When you don’t feel like you amount to much, you learn other ways to compensate.  I learned how to be funny.  I learned how to cook.  I’m an awesome cook.  I learned how to be a people pleaser.  If I kept everyone around me happy, then they would like me right?  Right?  I mean they would have to like me because I did everything they wanted and I took care of their every wish.  Umm…We’ll explore that more in the next post.