Play By The Rules

Nov3

 

Over recent weeks, I’ve been dealing with one of the biggest challenges I’ve met since starting to lose weight. Not just for this time — for any time.

If you’ve been reading along, you know I was sent home from my orthopedic surgeon’s office with instructions to lose 20 to 25 pounds. That was roughly six weeks ago, and at that time, I managed to get them to pencil in a surgery date in December, with the agreement that I’d lose the weight. I was pretty angry after that appointment because I felt like I hadn’t been heard. On the advice of friends who are also medical professionals, I rescheduled the checkup to make sure I met with the actual surgeon. And that appointment was on Wednesday.

There’s bad news, and there’s good news — of a sort. First, the bad news: I was turned away yet again. I lost 16 pounds between the appointments but was sent home with the instructions to lose 20 to 25 more pounds. I fought my case; I showed my progress photos of 140 pounds lost, I lined out the previous four years of progress I’ve made, I pointed out that it’s quite likely at least 15 pounds of the weight I currently carry is excess skin.

I’d rather be a pirate and make my own rules.

But it didn’t make a difference: their goal, pure and simple, is to be below a BMI of 40. I’m hovering just above it. I have until February 2, now, to get below that mark. If I meet it by then, I’ll have surgery in early summer.

Just as an aside, I think BMI is a convenient construct of insurance companies, and I wouldn’t doubt it a bit if my insurance company has a hand in this; I’ve never been a fan of insurance companies dictating health care. Those decisions should be between my doctor and me. Even the creator of BMI stated that he thought it was too general a rule, but at the time, it was at least a consistent measure. And apparently, being over a BMI of 40 brings with it notable increases in health risk.

I understand that. With a few exceptions, the more weight we carry, the more health issues we end up with. I’m talking averages — not specific cases — but I totally disagree with the (insurance-driven?) notion that those risk factors suddenly drop off once we pass a magical number. No, risk factors are on a sliding scale, not a drop-off. While I am more than willing to embrace the idea that my risks were far greater when I was at my original weight, I don’t truly believe that the risk factors are all that different for me at my current BMI and the mere two points I am away from their magic number.

Nonetheless — my surgeon will not do a total knee replacement for me until I lose even more weight, no matter what evidence I was able to present. What stands between me and knee surgery is an illogical (and mathematically rather than biologically based) number devised by a mathematician in the 1830’s, before The Alamo fell. For all our technology, we cling to this outdated and unreliable system of measurement. Regardless, I’m stuck and my choices are to abide by it or keeping living with debilitating knee pain.

The good news? I was heard, at least. I was treated with kindness and respect. I was listened to. I was given options. Not all of them are viable or preferable, but if I want this particular surgeon to perform my knee surgery, I have to go by his requirements — and I do want that. He did talk with me about my biggest concern: that I am at an impasse with my weight and my ability to exercise, so asking me to lose more weight seems nearly insurmountable.

He made some recommendations that I am considering, and I was also fitted with (yet another) knee brace that may help me get a few more steps a day without as much pain, and therefore, burn a few more calories.

I have to fight for this. I refuse to do anything else than fight; giving up never got me anywhere. I suppose on some level, I’m angry because I felt I was ready and I was not prepared to hear otherwise, but what I have done to this point is not enough. Imagine that — losing close to 150 pounds isn’t good enough. Not for this.

For the first time, I’m being pushed to change when I stubbornly want to remain on my current path, and it’s a hard thing to internalize. To this point, the choice has been mine; but now, if I want to achieve what I believe is the next step in pushing my health forward, I have to play by someone else’s rules.

I’ll do what needs to be done. I don’t like being told no.

 

Stay Grounded

Oct27

 

Burnout. All of us have dealt with it in one way or another — and that’s where I find myself this week.

I’m one of those people that needs a certain amount of uninterrupted alone time to nurture and replenish myself. When my battery is running low, I’m at my most vulnerable. I’ve had a lot to deal with over the past few months, and I know that once I can withdraw a bit and plug my life batteries in for a recharge, I’ll be ready to face whatever challenges are next in my life.

That’s just how some of us are made. I know plenty of folks who thrive on being surrounded by other people and activity. I’m not one of them. I get to a point where I’m like an over-stimulated toddler who, like it or not, needs that nap badly. If I don’t have a certain amount of time for restoration, I run dangerously close to empty. It’s no fault of those around me or even circumstances. It just is.

It’s a lot easier to stay grounded when you’ve built a solid foundation.

Curiously enough, though, I’ve found that my abilities to stay in sync and not fray at the edges, and remain in control, have improved with time. It takes a lot more to deplete my mental and physical batteries, these days. When I’m exhausted and had enough, now, I don’t find myself as vulnerable and at risk of doing stupid things that undo the hard work I’ve put in.

In my past, these are the times when it would be remarkably easy to consider my diet just one more stress point and reward myself with food that makes me feel good in the moment, but loses that ability to comfort me the moment it lays like a brick in my stomach. Last weekend, I celebrated my birthday with family, for instance, but I completely forgot about the cupcakes a friend sent home with me until they were too stale to eat. I got back on course afterward, and I really didn’t stray as far off the dietary path as I might have; eating things I’m not used to tends to make me regret it soon afterward.

It’s a side-effect of undertaking this long journey that I didn’t expect or foresee; it’s not like I’m young and just diving into life’s experiences. No, even when I’m at burnout levels these days, I’m calmer about knowing what I need to do to push through. Hell, yes, I’m stressed, but I’ve managed to learn what behaviors only complicate stress even more.

It’s also about perspective and staying grounded. We were at a wine fest last week, and I realized after discussing it with my husband that one of the reasons I was disappointed in the festival itself was because I can get around better, these days, and had been looking forward to doing more while I was there — but the festival is going through a downtime and there wasn’t as much to wander around and do. I realized this most when we went to a different winery and I thoroughly enjoyed taking a tour. It was a livelier place to be. I don’t regret for a second being there with my family — but what was good enough, before, now no longer is.

By the way, those two bags of Cheetos from a couple weeks ago are still sitting on the counter in the kitchen. While my eating hasn’t been perfect this last week or so, I’ve mitigated the desire to simply check out and do whatever I want. It’s a little bit like growing up and behaving like an adult, which isn’t always my forte. I may not be at my absolute strongest, right now, but I also know how to keep myself in line until I’m able to plug myself in and build myself back up.

On that note, I’ll be visiting with my knee surgeon this coming Wednesday and I expect to solidify a surgery date in December. I’ve been in caregiver mode for a while, now, but the next challenge will be a complete change — and the beginning of the next stage of learning how to live in this new life of mine.

 

October

Oct19

 

If you’ve been reading this blog the past few weeks, you know a few things: that I have an important appointment coming up in a matter of roughly 11 days, that I want to lose a certain amount of weight before that date, and that I have yet to get back to my low weight.

Here’s what you don’t know that’s throwing a curve ball into all of this: although I’ve lost some of the weight I want to lose, my weight has been more stubborn than a mule. It keeps dancing around one set point no matter what I try to do to break it. Normally, I wouldn’t worry too much about it, because I know that it’s likely something hormonal that’s holding me back, and as long as I keep doing what I’m doing, it’ll eventually solve itself.

That’s all well and good when I don’t have a deadline, and I do have a deadline of sorts. Although I know that seeing my knee surgeon will likely go in my favor regardless of a number on the scale, I still have a point to prove to both his physician’s assistant, and to myself.

Red, white, and blush — definitely good therapy.

I also have my annual wine fest and birthday — this weekend. This is one of those rare times that I usually incorporate relaxed eating into my plan so I can fully enjoy myself, knowing that the consequence is that I’ll gain some weight I’ll have to re-lose.

I honestly don’t know what to do this time. I do plan to watch what I eat a bit closer than I would on a normal year, but I admit that I fear the fallout, and that although I have a little more than a week to take off what I gain, my weight has been abnormally stubborn lately. It’s one of those times that I really don’t know what decisions I’ll make until that moment arrives.

I do know this, though: I have plenty of non-scale victories (NSVs) ahead of me this weekend. Last year, I still walked with my cane, and while I was able to get around the grounds of the wine festival, it was still a challenge. This year, my cane won’t be making the trip with me. I can walk easily just about anywhere I need to go, despite the terrain, and I think I may even be able to take a walking tour or two this time. The distance between areas isn’t the issue it once was. I can also look at their shaky plastic folding chairs that they use for their dining tables and feel just a bit more confident that I’m not going to cause damage.

We’ve reserved dinner in a restaurant that’s built in an old wine cellar; it’s well over 100 years old, and while some things have obviously been modernized, it’s still something that I wasn’t willing to take on a year ago. Stairs can still be quite daunting for me, and will be until after both knees are replaced, because my knees don’t bend to the degree necessary to take on stair treads that might be higher than normal.

This is a matter of short-term rewards versus long-term goals, so I admit I’m a bit anxious about navigating all of it. This is life, though; had I stayed in the same place I was over four years ago, not a single thing I’ve mentioned in this post would be possible — not walking the grounds, taking tours, or even considering the possibility of knee surgery, so it pays to ground myself and remember that.

 

Questions and Answers

Oct13

 

Some days, I honestly don’t know what to write. Today is one of those days, so I asked people what sort of questions they’d like to have me answer. Here are a few.

 

I’d love to read what motivates you when you feel like you just can’t do the healthy eating any more or when you are having a stressful day.

Believe me, there are days when I get absolutely and horribly frustrated, especially when I’ve pulled out every trick in my bag and it doesn’t seem to be working. That’s happened to me, lately, and I needed a reality check that luckily came from an outside source.

I can’t always rely on outside sources, though, to remind me to get my head in the right place. On talk radio tonight, coming home after eating dinner, I heard the host put forth the idea that we often give up on something just before we achieve success — weight loss being one of the things mentioned, and the reasons are often because what motivated us, in the beginning, is no longer motivation. In my case, when I first started losing weight, being able to move easily and fit in semi-normal size clothes were big motivators, but now that those things have happened, they’re not as motivating as they once were.

You betcha.

The host suggested that prevention becomes more of a motivator that can help that final push of success, and I believe that. I have photos of where I used to be. I have journal entries of how tough things were at that time. I made videos of myself at various stages, and look back on them. When I’m having a moment where I just want to trash it all and give up, remembering where I’ve been often pushes me past whatever is holding me back at that moment.

I don’t see myself as a stress eater, but can be prone to it at times; I let myself stress eat months while caring for my husband after his first knee surgery. And that fact is — I love food. I’m not gonna lie about that. I used to kid myself into believing food is only fuel, but I love a fine glass of wine, the satisfaction of a great meal.

Mindless eating isn’t that. Being selective in my eating actually makes the meals in which I choose to have something I don’t normally eat much more special. I can fully experience it and go on, instead of just eating whatever fills the space. When I do that, I end up feeling like crap and feeling sorry for myself.

Besides, none of us ever get closer to our goals by doing the exact opposite of what we know will get us there. Throwing my hands up in frustration and diving into a bag of Doritos certainly won’t make me feel better. I have to focus that stress somewhere else.

 

I would love to hear your thoughts on the willpower you muster in regards to avoiding unhealthy foods.

I think most of us know how to eat healthy when we’re at home and we have the time to fix meals; the challenge is when someone shows up with cupcakes with three inches of frosting on them, or your well-meaning aunt is pouting because you’re trying to resist that marshmallow salad with whip cream on top that she made just for you. Or in my case: Bavarian pretzels are my kryptonite. (Salt is a food group, y’all. Honest.)

I try to look at these sorts of temptations in two ways. The first is that I view each day much like a bank account: I start with a set amount I can spend. If I want a treat, I have to consider whether I can afford it, or what I’m willing to give up so that account isn’t overdrawn. I will also plan times when I can spend more from that account, and thinking this way tends to make me evaluate what I’m willing to spend on, and it had better be worth it. (I actually get pretty upset if I plan for a special meal — or pretzel! — and then it’s not up to snuff. I feel like I got ripped off. Eating selectively makes you appreciate each bite a lot more.)

The second is that I know what the consequences are when I eat (or drink) outside of my norm. Eating clean helps balance cravings for treats, and it also amplifies how different I feel after I do have a treat. Someone who doesn’t drink caffeine for months and then has an espresso will have a more pronounced reaction to it than someone who has caffeine daily, and the same holds true for sustained clean eating. That pretzel might taste fantastic, but it could very well make me hungry for a couple of days when I don’t normally deal with a great deal of hunger. Am I willing to possibly deal with food cravings for a couple of days if I have that pretzel?

Sometimes it’s about limiting the amount of the treat, too — a bite of pretzel might satisfy that desire for the taste rather than eating the whole thing. It’s a longterm choice rather than an immediate “gosh, that looks good!” reaction.

I’ve become a picky eater. I want food to be a joy, so those decisions are actually not big decisions. When I do make those occasional decisions, I do so in a way that I can appreciate them instead of regret them.

 

Are there certain foods you substituted to satisfy a sweet tooth or a salt craving?

I don’t do a bunch of substituting. That way lies craziness and turkey bacon, but I do workarounds on occasion.

During the summer, I like my backyard cocktails, and I like combining sugar-free drink mixes with clear alcohols (rum, tequila, vodka), as well as adding things like sugar-free ginger ale. But really, I don’t crave a lot of sweets. I like my salt. I will snack on bacon or pepperoni. I like my hot sauces and spices, too.

For me personally, I stay away from processed foods that are meant to duplicate other foods. I also don’t make rice out of cauliflower or noodles from zucchini. I know there are folks who swear by them, but I don’t miss rice or pasta, so have no desire to duplicate it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks to my friends for posting questions — I hope I’ve given a little bit of insight. Got questions? I may consider them for a future blog.

Today

Oct5

 

When I first started this weight loss journey over four years ago, I said I was tired of first days of diets.

Although I see my current experience as a full lifestyle change, since going back to the way I lived before means I will sacrifice every physical, mental, and emotional gains I’ve made over the duration, it occurs to me that every single day is actually a first day of sorts.

Every day, I wake up with choices. I can get up, weigh myself, commit to eating the right things during the day, take the first step toward a step goal. Or I can get up, skip the scales because I suspect it’s not what I want to see, grab what’s easiest for breakfast, ignore the voice inside that’s chiding me for not making the right decisions for myself.

Every meal, every opportunity to move, every sip of water, every step toward health is a choice. My journey isn’t one huge effort; it’s a long series of small choices, made every single day, that culminates in an ongoing improvement to my health.

Start now.

The fallacy with many diets is that they tout a beginning — and an end, as if it’s one continuous commitment that can be left behind once the final goal is achieved.

My experience has taught me the opposite: this is a series of beginnings, and as long as I draw breath, there is no end. There is no final goal. It’s a process that draws me as close as possible to where I want to be, and after that point, the work continues. The choices and the consequences of those choices do not stop.

Now, the longer I go on, the easier those choices are. Choosing not to eat the two bags of Cheetos that I know are just a few feet away is a much easier choice now than it was years ago. The same with going out for a walk, since my walks are no longer endurance contests for how long I can go before pain sidelines me. The pain is still there, but it’s not the same.

The process gets easier. It struck me the other day that although the first time I lost 140 pounds was much faster, the amount of time I was able to maintain before I started gaining (and finally giving up) was, in total, about the same amount of time I’ve been on my current (and hopefully last!) journey. As I go on, I compare a lot with that journey, and it is an astoundingly different process for me these days, especially mentally.

I got to a point where I was so desperate for change, back then, that a good chunk of every single day was dedicated to exercising, walking, maintaining a regimen so severe that the quality of the rest of my life suffered. I may have felt strong (and was certainly stronger then than I am at the moment), but if I wasn’t working, I was working out.

This time, I’ve surpassed my old loss — a feat I originally thought was impossible, especially considering the physical issues I faced at the onset — but the quality of my life far exceeds those days. My days aren’t just about concentrating on losing weight. I not only have the ability to work, to care for my loved ones, but also enjoy parts of my life I thought were gone, including music, simple joys like knitting, and just enjoying what life brings.

Finding a balance in all of these things makes the choices I make each day far easier. Every day may be a start day, but the rewards far exceed the effort.

 

How to Play the Cards

Sep28

 

Last week, I talked about not accepting no as an answer, and with the help of friends, found even more ways to fight for yes. Thanks to those of you who encouraged me; I have since rescheduled my follow-up appointment, which was initially just a weight check, to be specifically with the surgeon who will replace my knee. A bonus: it’s also a week later, so that gives me more time.

I am still dedicated to losing as much weight as possible between now and then. It’s given me the drive and focus I’ve needed to get my head firmly back in place. I’ve even noticed a shift in my thought processes over the past week, and I’m grateful for that. I’ve also dropped more than half of the weight the physician’s assistant requested — something I suspect he didn’t think I was capable of doing. I knew I was carrying water weight and said so; he simply didn’t look past the easily available stats in front of him.

Gotta play those cards!

I hit a low weight in May, and since then, I’ve let circumstances become an excuse for weight creep. My mind has been slowly changing and losing that drive I had months ago, thinking I must accept where I’m at. I don’t have to accept that at all, and if nothing else, I needed this wakeup call.

Now, I’m not far above my low, again, and I’ve been thinking of where I’ll be later this fall — and what I’ll be able to accomplish after knee surgery. I’ve been working toward meeting all of my fitness goals each day, despite needing to care for my husband after his second knee replacement surgery. (As you can see, I’m pretty familiar with this entire process — which is one of the reasons I was thrown for such a loop when the PA threw a wrench in the works.) I let his first surgery in July throw me out of my regimen; I allowed myself no such excuses this time.

Life’s not fair — I’ve been dealt a number of physical complications that make weight loss quite difficult — but I can either whine about it or do something about it. Lamenting my issues instead of dealing with them not only got me up to at least 371 pounds (that’s the number on the scale when I finally looked; not necessarily my highest weight, just the one I know about!), but it destroyed both of my knees from carrying the weight of my body, robbed me of years when I could have been living a better life, destroyed my skin (need extra skin? Give me a call!), worsened any health issues I had, including depression — the list is a long one.

Playing the cards I’ve been dealt instead of just accepting them has changed much of my life. It’s my responsibility to research, change, adjust when necessary, and keep moving forward. I spent too many years creating my own limitations; my life, these days, must be about tearing them down, wherever and whenever possible, and doing the unexpected.

“Every hand’s a winner, every hand’s a loser”. When that PA glanced over my numbers and spoke to me, he didn’t see me. He saw stats and he judged. I am still a large woman. I’m sure there are a legion of women my size that are doing absolutely nothing to improve their health; that adhere to a regimen, that walk daily, that put in the effort. That isn’t readily visible on a medical chart or just by looking at me.

Conversely, there are plenty of people in this world that look entirely fit but ate Cheetos for breakfast, if they ate breakfast, and lead sedimentary lives. The truth is we don’t know the full picture of anyone until we dig deeper. My goal is to make sure my physician knows the whole person, rather than the stats. Then, we’ll be partners in my surgery and recovery. Whatever I do in the meantime to improve my health is a bonus.

Thanks for being there for me. Had I not taken the step of being publicly accountable in my weight loss journey, these current hurdles may have created enough of a limitation that I might have started to turn back instead of moving forward. That support means the world to me.

 

Tell Me No

Sep22

 

No.

That’s what I was told earlier this week. No, you’re not ready for knee replacement surgery.

I couldn’t believe it when I heard it. I went in for x-rays and the physician’s assistant told me immediately that my x-rays look horrible. That’s nothing I don’t know, already; they looked bad years ago when they first started telling me I needed total knee replacement on both knees.

The next words were even worse: come back when you’ve lost twenty to twenty-five pounds, and then we’ll talk about surgery.

I narrowed my eyes at him. Uh, say what? He then told me that this was “something new”, which astounded me, because I’ve seen my husband through two knee replacement surgeries, now, and I’m telling you that there were a lot of people much larger than me, out in the hallways and making those first post-surgical steps with newly bandaged knees. Further, I’ve been seeing this particular surgeon for around 12 years, but never this particular physician’s assistant. No one in that office, including the surgeon himself, has ever told me to lose weight; in fact, when I have said I need to lose weight in the past, when I just wasn’t ready physically or emotionally, their response was you can’t put surgery off forever.

That “no” will be a YES.

Two things hit me, immediately; the first is that one of the reasons I wanted to get this done by year’s end is because of insurance advantages, since my husband has just had his second surgery since July. If I wait until next year, my cost savings are lost, and they are major savings. I’m not a wealthy woman by any means, and one of the many reasons I haven’t had this particular surgery yet is because of the cost. If I don’t at least get the first knee done by year’s end, I realistically don’t know when I’ll be able to have it done.

The other? The amount of weight he told me to lose is identical to the amount I’ve recently gained over my low weight, achieved last May. I’ve been struggling with getting that weight back off and I haven’t done nearly enough to make it happen. I have to own that responsibility; had I walked into that office at my low, there would have been no discussion of my weight. That’s entirely my fault.

Mind you, I don’t much care for no, not when I’ve come this far, fought this hard. And I didn’t stand for it.

We have a deal; we penciled in a surgery date for me in December, but only on the condition that I come back, weigh in, and lose at least those twenty to twenty five pounds. Honestly, I know what they’re after; it’s that blasted BMI number, and I am tottering on the edge between weight classifications. It’s numbers, stats, and risks. But it doesn’t make it any easier to accept. (The good news here is that I know a good deal of the excess is water weight, which is relatively easy to lose, if I set my mind to it.)

Yes, I’m angry over it. I’m angry, because that physician’s assistant doesn’t know me at all, doesn’t know my weight loss history, and it was obvious by his manner that while he agreed to allow for penciling in a date, he has zero faith that I can pull it off. He doesn’t think I’ll make it.

I’m angry at myself, too, for not having put in more effort and remaining steadfast; I’ve let things creep in my way while knowing I’ve needed to return to my focus.

But oddly, I’m also thankful. I have a goal to achieve. I have a point to prove — not just to that smug physician’s assistant, but to myself. It’s time to stand and deliver, and I’m going to turn that no into a yes. Part of that weight is already gone, and I’m going to be pushing hard during the weeks ahead to beat those stats.

 

Alive

Sep15

 

Forgiveness is not a single act but a matter of constant practice.

Forgiving is a hard thing to do, no matter how often I do it. I fight with it. I want to cling to what’s fair and what’s right, instead of what brings me the most peace; they aren’t always the same thing. Accepting that the best thing for my own peace of mind is not the fairest conclusion is tough, but I’ve had to do it any number of times over the course of my life. No doubt, we all have had to make those decisions.

Even harder, though, is the constant practice of forgiving myself.

Better to live them than regret just dreaming.

I’ve done a lot of supremely stupid things over the years; things that I struggle forgiving myself for. They are things that I’ve thought I’ve made my peace with, only to have them churn up again, which tells me I’m not done forgiving myself.

I’ve spent most of my (long!) adult life as a morbidly obese woman who convinced herself that there weren’t other options, that I was doomed to be fat for the rest of my life. Thinking of how much time I have wasted believing this, how much time I spent in deep depression over it, caught in a body that wouldn’t let me do the things I wanted to do, pains my heart. I wish I could have led a better life, and I find it difficult, now, to forgive myself for not knowing any better at the time.

The problem with not finding that forgiveness is that I have a deep sense of justice. I want to cry that it’s unfair that I’ve been saddled with a body that makes it so tough to lose weight. It’s unfair that the new me should have to deal with the consequences the old me created by complicating my metabolism. Unfairness should be punished, so I punish myself in small ways and make myself feel bad instead of forgiving myself and moving forward.

Every day, I have to forgive myself for those bad days, months, years — decades. Every day, I have to remind myself that this isn’t about fairness; it’s about doing what’s right for me, which means not only doing the things that result in a happier mind and body, but feeding and nurturing the good parts of me, so they continue to overpower the bad.

I know I will always carry the me that once was within me, and if I don’t work on that internal sense of forgiveness, that old me will overcome the new one.

That girl who was fit and stood proudly for a pic with her friends after a long hike on a low mountain, with pig tails and a spreading grin — I’m that girl. But I’m also that girl who spent entire days in bed, unable to exist, barely able to function enough to make a meal or take a shower.

I am both; I carry the seeds of both within me, but neither one is me. My definitions are different. My goals, my days, my dreams are different, and while I need to find it within myself to forgive both of those former iterations, I can never forget the lessons I learned from them and the burdens they carried. I have released those burdens, even if I occasionally need to remind myself.

Today, I forgive myself for not knowing better back in those days, not having the desire to do better, being fearful of change. I need to make it a habit to do this daily for the sake and the preservation of the person I am, now.

 

Down The Road I Go

Sep8

Last week, I reposted the blog entry that started my journey. This past Sunday, September 3, marked four years that I’ve been on this journey, so it seemed appropriate to look back.

My husband read the old entry and observed something I had not: that my writing tone, from that day to this one, has changed quite a bit. I didn’t have much confidence — not in myself, no faith that I’d actually persevere in this quest. It was as if I really didn’t believe my own words.

Good things are also here right now.

Quite honestly, I didn’t. I was faking it until I made it, a gamble in itself because that often doesn’t work. I didn’t feel as if I had much of a choice, though; my life had become so limited, so small, that I knew I either needed to find the desire to change it, or sink into depression. So I took the step to give it another try; one step, one day out of innumerable previous attempts.

Living life on a small level left me feeling out of control. There were so many things I either couldn’t do or wouldn’t do because of fear. I felt overwhelmed by the things I needed to do, to a point where I did nothing at all.

Working my way out of that sort of mental (and physical) prison requires gaining control of something, no matter how small, and one thing I always have complete control over is what I put in my mouth. It’s that simple; that’s where I started. It was the small spark in tinder that grew to a flame and spread.

That’s what I mean by faking it until you make it. Taking control of that little bit of something allowed me the chance to start moving in the right direction until I built up enough momentum and enough success to become my own motivation for continuing.

He is right that I didn’t believe I could do it. Four years later, I know I can do it — because I’m doing it. Yes, I have my ups and downs, but the ways in which my life has changed are nothing short of breathtaking.

On a related note, I went to my doctor for an annual wellness checkup. I’ll brag and say the really nice part of being consistent in weight loss is that I don’t worry about the doctor fussing over my weight; he’s my partner in moving forward, and he’s aware of where I’ve been and where I’m heading. I told him that it’s quite likely I’ll be having knee replacement surgery within the next few months, and that I’ll soon be seeing my orthopedist to start the process — and he told me something I never have heard from a doctor, before.

He said — you’re going to come through this just fine. You’re healthy and you’re ready.

The lab results showed the same; my labs have never been better than they are at this moment. And while I still have weight to lose and health to gain, I am astounded by being here, at this point. Four years ago, I never could have imagined taking these steps.

Where will my fifth year take me? I can only imagine where I’ll be, a year from now.

 

Revisiting the Past

Sep1

This coming Sunday, I will pass my 4th anniversary of starting my current — and, I hope, the last and most successful — weight loss effort. This week, I’m reposting what I wrote on my first blog; so very much has changed, obviously, but I’ll let these words speak for themselves.

Thanks for being there with me for the past four years.

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This past Tuesday was a special day: it was the first day of my last diet.

That’s my goal: I want that day to be the last ever “first day of diet” that I ever have, because this time, I am going to do everything possible to make it a success.

Of course, that’s the attitude I always start out with, even though the memory of all the previous failures is there. It’s ever-present, that reality, and I have to fight strong to believe that this effort won’t be like every other time I’ve attempted weight loss — just another diet, doomed to failure. It doesn’t have to be that way. Because if I believe that this time won’t be different, I will fail.

I’ve decided that the best course of action is to do things that will help me down the road. Starting a diet is easy work; the hard work comes when the scale’s not cooperating, when there’s no evident progress being made, and the temptation to give up is great. With that in mind, I’ve already done a number of things I usually avoid doing when starting a diet, as well as committing myself to things that will hopefully help me in the long run.

They are:

Reviewing the footage of 140 pounds lost!

I took a starting weight. As elemental as this sounds, there have been times that I’ve been so afraid of the scale that I haven’t done that one thing. In fact, my most successful weight loss journey ever started with not knowing my exact weight, because I didn’t have a scale that could weigh me.

Look, I’m not going to beat around the bush, as much as I’d like to: I am morbidly obese. There’s no hiding or avoiding that fact. Older scales generally only weigh up to 300 pounds, and guess what? I was over 300. The first reading I was able to get, after several weeks of dieting, was 338 pounds. During that journey, I lost 140.5 pounds — based on that starting number of 338, which wasn’t accurate.

This time around, our home scales only weigh to 300 pounds, but we have a gym membership. The gym has a doctor’s scale, so shortly before 5 am on Tuesday morning, I went there to weigh — only to discover that the scale stops at 350.

And I apparently weighed more than that.

We now have a new scale that weighs to 400 pounds, and also takes some other nifty data, like body fat percentage. I was able to weigh myself on Wednesday. While I am thoroughly embarrassed to admit this, that starting number is 371. I could write volumes here about how that number devastated me, but that’s for another blog.

So, although it wasn’t easy by a long shot, I have a starting weight.

I am also weighing daily, which I haven’t done with a diet for quite some time. I’m charting daily weights to see if I can detect any trends, and each Friday, I’ll post the lowest weight for that week.

I took starting measurements. The last few times I’ve dieted, I have skipped this. I can’t even really tell you why, except that it’s avoidance. The dumb thing about skipping measurements is that when I’ve needed some sort of indicator of success, I’ve denied myself the ability to compare and see progress and success.

There are times when I have really needed that reinforcement, and when I’ve denied myself that, I’ve struggled. I’ve done this enough to know that there are times when measurements change and the scale doesn’t, so I’m giving myself the gift of knowing those beginning measurements, this time, so months down the road, when I need the boost, I’ll be able to see the difference and hopefully keep myself on track.

I plan to take new measurements at the first of every month.

I took starting photos. During my most successful weight loss journey, I took a photo journal of my progress. I can still look back on that and say “hey, I did it.” While it’s difficult in the early months to see much of a difference, those changes become much more evident over the course of time. It’s another reinforcement of progress, and while I’ll likely take photos monthly, I also will take photos when I hit specific weight goals.

Along those lines, I am also going to take a good head shot photo on a regular basis, and it’ll be one where I fix my hair, do my makeup, and look happy. I’ll use this as an avatar for my various online activities. I’m guilty of using photos that are a year or two old, sometimes older, and it’s important for me to have an accurate idea of what I look like at any given time. Why hide it? I am who I am.

I publicly committed myself. I need the support of my friends and relatives, so I felt it was important to make sure those close to me know that I’m working toward improving my health. This blog is an extension of that effort.

As silly and vain as this sounds, the last time I lost weight, I lost around 70 pounds, which is a terrific effort. But my ego took an extreme hit when no one noticed or said anything to me about it. I’d like to believe that I don’t need that ego reinforcement, but apparently, I do; I need people to acknowledge that I’m making the effort and seeing success.
That doesn’t mean I want people gushing over me… no, what I want is the sincere comments of people who actually see a difference, especially from those that don’t realize I’m making an effort to lose weight. This is a slippery slope, and I’d really like to take ego completely out of the picture, but I have to admit to myself that I loved it when I lost 140 pounds and people didn’t even recognize me. That gratification helped keep me on track. And while I’ve written quite a bit about not wanting to be identified by my weight or my weight loss, to a point, that’s not entirely true. I don’t want to be the fattest person in the room; and I don’t want to continually be that woman that lost so much weight (please, let that be the case again!), but inevitably, I’m the sum of my experiences, and that includes the battle I’ve waged with obesity.

I privately committed myself. I did something I’ve never done, before: I made a video to Future Me. In it, I explain to the Future Me who’s struggling to stay on plan how it is, right now, to live in this body, to deal with this weight, and why things need to change. I did it in hopes that I’ll watch it when I need a kick in the butt, when I have forgotten the struggles that drove me to the point of recommitting myself to another effort — my last effort, if I’m successful.

There are other things I plan to do during the course of this journey, including things like tracking my symptoms, tracking changes in clothing sizes (for the record, I’m currently in size 28 jeans and 4X shirts), and more. It is a colossal effort, but it needs to be done.

I’m 51 years old; my 52nd birthday is next month. This is a gift I’m giving myself; I can’t live like this any longer. I have denied myself any number of pleasurable pursuits because of my weight and subsequent physical problems.
It’s not who I am, today; it’s who I am tomorrow that will make the difference.

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If this is the first time reading my blog, I want you to know that all of this worked. At my lowest, I’ve lost 148 pounds, and while I’m not currently at my lowest weight, I know with certainty I’ll get back there. My life has totally changed since that first day, and I am thankful for having done all of these things, regardless of how mortified I was at the time.

Next week, I’ll talk a bit about those changes.