Nope. I am definatly NOT in Kansas anymore. The honeymoon is over. The first year is said and done, and now the real learning and living begins.
I still find it funny that even though what seems like months and months of preparation and research goes into the decision to get weight loss surgery, Lap-Band patients still generally forget that as this is the least invasive of the three procedures (verusus Verticle Sleeve Gastrectomy and RNY Gastric Bypass) so are the results. As well as the restriction that comes with it. I’m by no means calling anyone out here as not being informed, but what I am saying is that I myself thought shortly after my surgery that I should feel something MORE in terms of not being able to cheat. This just isn’t the case. We are told to our faces that it can take over a year to get to the fabled “green zone”, a place where we are neither too lose or too tight, and that it will take several fills of trial and error in the process. Yet, we want to snap our fingers and have things happen overnight. We want to be seated at the buffet and say with a smile that we have had enough, and truly feel that way.
What we want and what we get is not the same thing. I lost the majority of my weight still eating things like pizza and hamburgers. I’d go into the surgeon’s office and honestly tell them that a Portillo’s hotdog got the best of me. I wanted so badly to get that mysterious signal to tell me to stop, but had I not diligently counted every calorie and started my fitness lifestyle I wouldn’t have done it. Because here is the kicker folks, you have to diet and exercise to lose weight. Yep. That’s all.
14 months later I will be able to eat a turkey sub one day, and then choke and puke up a single grilled shrimp the next. I will get stuck and PB a handful of potato chips in the morning, then stupidly eat those same chips later that day and finish off the bag. I make mistakes. Sometimes the slap on the hand is enough and sometimes it makes no difference at all. No different than a toddler getting a time out for touching the china then going right back for it.
No procedure in the world can cure my addiction to Doritos. I went several months without a single one, starting my fast on Ash Wednesday and then just refused to buy a bag to have in the house. This week, I found a bag, tucked within a Jewel bag in the garage and after walking past it about ten times I opened that sucker thinking I would just eat ONE serving. But really how could a few more hurt since I have been doing so well. And really, just a few more dissolves to dust. And a few more. And a few more.
I finished off the fucking bag. That’s right. I ate a bag of Doritos today and really not much else food at all. Which is not okay. I snapchatted the empty bag with the caption “Bag. Of. Regret.” and sent it to my husband who bought the damn things in the first place. I know was my own hand that fed me, but if he were an alcoholic I wouldn’t keep liquor around the house. So I am choosing to be pissed off at him too.
And now I’m sitting here pissed off at the world. Pissed off at me. Feeling like I know damn well when I wake up with the carb bloated belly that I hate so much I’m going to feel like I failed. And then I will put on my big girl panties and move on. Because that’s all I can do. My job, my kids, my home, my beloved chip purchasing husband will all be there tomorrow.
The band doesn’t cure hunger. It doesn’t cure addictions. It doesn’t even feel the same every day or even every hour. Just thought you should know.
But I don't want to end this post in a negative light. I don't want you to feel bad for me or wish you could give me a hug and make my boo-boo feel better. So....well....I'll end with reminding you I only have 20 days of work left until I get paid to sunbathe in my new two-piece I waited ten years to wear.
Don't feel so bad for me anymore, do you?