Week 8

Down 37 pounds.

Last week, Tuesday, in fact, I decided it was time to head back to an exercise routine.  Tuesday, I went to the gym, and I alternated days doing that and a yoga dvd I have.  It's felt pretty good to get out there and move.  I think it's helping with my energy levels.  Truth be told, I'm afraid to trust that, though... you know... the way some people who have been burned one too many times are afraid to trust another potential douchebag.  I've tried so many things along the way to try to make myself not only lose weight, but to feel better... less drained... less mentally fogged...  Every time I'd try something, it would work for a few glorious weeks or months, and then... it was like the rug got pulled out from under me, and the fatigue and mental fog came swirling back in.  I'm maintaining my optimism about it, though.  I'm going to keep on keeping on.

I haven't really mixed it up any with the food.  I'm kind of sticking with what I know works, for now.  I did try a few things that didn't agree with me, like a hamburger patty.  That was confusing because I've eaten ground beef in other ways... in chili, taco meat...  you know... stuff like that.  I really figured I'd be able to handle it.  I guess not.  Ah well... I'll wait on it a little longer.  I'm sure I'll react differently in a few weeks/months.

This week's focus needs to be on slowing down when I eat.  I used to be the slowest eater of any group I was in, but now, I'm always the first one done.  Sure, that could be because I have far less food on my plate, but I'm thinking I could at least be finishing along with someone who eats faster than I used to.  Even that would be okay, I'd think.  All the info I have from the clinic, though, says I should be taking half an hour to eat.  So, yeah, that will be this week's focus.

It seems to me like bariatric surgery is kind of like the number one rule of Fight Club... and there... I just went and broke the rule.  haha.  Or.. rather... it's like you aren't supposed to say anything that isn't a glowing review of it for fear of scaring off someone else who may be considering it.  Let me be clear...

This was the best decision I ever made, and I am 100% happy with both my progress and my decision.  If I had to, I'd do it all again tomorrow.

The thing to remember is this...  It's a process; it's a process I am brand new at, and it's a process I am still learning. I know that my real friends LIKE it when I take them on my journeys with me... through the good, the bad, and the ugly.  Ultimately, I'm a realist.  I WILL paint an accurate picture of this for you.  Furthermore, I have a right to reach out to my friends for support and encouragement.  It helps me to hear from others who have done this "I experienced that icky feeling, and it passed" or "here's how I coped with this." Apparently, I don't get to be like 99% of my friends who have had this surgery and got zero discomfort afterwards.  Certain foods bother me right now.  Right now, I have constipation.  Before I started exercising again, it was hard to get out of bed in the morning due to extreme energy depletion.

Guess what, though?  That stuff passes.  Eventually, I'll get to a point where I'm not having any of these problems.  And we all have to remember...  Well... the ones who carry the same motivations as I do need to remember this, anyhow.  I didn't have surgery because I'm afraid of vomiting occasionally (seriously, it's happened twice), constipation, or other temporary discomforts.  I did it because I'm afraid of heart disease, diabetes, esophageal cancer that comes with years of GERD (acid reflux), high blood pressure, achy joints, and all the other things associated with carrying around too much weight.

If you make this decision, don't make it because your friend used to be fat and now she's pretty, vivacious, and awesome.  She's always been all those things.  Do it because it's right for YOU and YOUR health.

That being said...  I've lost 37 pounds in two month's time.  I talked on the phone with my mom yesterday.  In true critical fashion, she asked how much I've lost so far.  I told her, and she says, "wow... I'd have thought you'd do better than that."  It took me straight back to being 16 years old, introducing her to a boy I liked, and hearing her say "he's cute.  What's he like you for?"  It feels kind of shitty, but I know, at the end of the day, I've never lost 37 pounds in 2 months before.  I know how to keep my sense of perspective.  I know I was at the smaller end of the spectrum of people who have bariatric surgery.  It comes off of larger people more rapidly.  I'm doing what I've been instructed to do, I'm compliant with my program, and I'm happy with my progress... But... god DAMN... why do our mothers have the ability to slice into us that way?