Super Inspired Writer

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Monday, November 17

Holiday Game Plan

Saturday I started a diet. Okay, I’ve been on a diet for two years but as you know I recently underwent a small gain and that shit needs to be stopped in it’s tracks before the holidays come and I am drowning in a sea of my own cinnamon sugar tears. I took a hard look at what I have been doing and there is no denying that I will never be someone who can just relax and live and maintain my weight I knew this already, I’ve known it for my whole life.

The first aha moment as I analyze this kink in the hose is that I have reached my own personal “point of no return.” I know we have all heard this cliché many times but has anyone really stopped to think about what it means? The phrase started with German military teams and refers to that point when you are swimming under caves, without the aid of scuba gear, when you have a choice to make. You get to a point where you will either have enough breath left to double back and make it out, or enough to continue and hope you make it through. That’s where I’m at now. I have lost weight so many times in my life I have lost count, but then I get to this point, and for some reason unbeknownst to me I double back instead of swimming on. Today I chose to swim. No going back, I’ve come too far.

So I am starting with the basics. I scheduled a fill for three weeks sooner than I had planned on checking in. I haven’t gotten an adjustment since March and even though I constantly am on the fence as if I need one at all or just need to be eating right, I think it’s time to give it a tweak. Last time I went in I had gained two pounds and if I went in today that would be two to three more. I can’t be ashamed and avoid the obvious, I need to go in and own up to it and let them help me. Let my band help me.

I also stocked up on my protein shakes and doing a mirror of what my pre-op diet looked like. Two shakes and one healthy meal. If not a shake then something of the same calories/nutrition. Two days and I’m already feeling better. I am going to hope and pray that I can stick with it until Thanksgiving when I will take a day off and enjoy my family and food. People are not fat because of Thanksgiving after all, they are fat because of their daily choices. 

Another huge problem in this equation is me not taking time for myself to exercise. I wish I had a good excuse, like the famous line about not having time. But we all know this is not true and the oldest excuse in the book. We all can make time. We chose not to. I have a gym membership with classes and availability that I can work with. It has a kids room that I used to dump my brood into several times a week. I used to go rain or shine, light or dark. I have no choice in this matter, it’s an essential part of my success.

So tonight I’m trying a yoga class for the first time.  I’m hoping it helps me with two things. Obviously my body will benefit from the stretching and muscle work, but also hopefully it fulfills me emotionally just like everyone raves it to do. Teaches me to breath and reflect. To just be.

My hope is that by writing typing this down it will manifest. That I will be accountable to my readers.  Accountable to myself.

Be calm and swim on.

Wednesday, November 12

Finding Atlantis

I’m starting to feel like I am searching for the lost city of Atlantis. A magical place where everything is beautiful and perfect. Where everyone is happy.

I’m starting to realize that such a place might not be hidden after all, only found by the bravest and most courageous explorers, those worthy of finding the hidden treasures there. I’m starting to realize that maybe it’s not there at all, but just a legend, or a mirage.

I have been open and honest about the fact that I am struggling right now with body image and combatting my body dismorphia. No, I have not been diagnosed by a professional, but I KNOW something is wrong when an otherwise commonly intelligent person looks in the mirror after weighing a few ounces more and literally sees how much more fat there is. It is not at all possible or rational but somehow it is real and happening for me. Every day all day I am critiquing every square inch of myself, much worse then in my fat days when I just didn’t give a shit because I looked horrible anyways every day.


This week I worked with a substitute teacher that has gone through an unspeakable tragedy. More on that later. When I got home I cried and cried for two reasons. One was that the horrible, horrible thing that happened to his family is something that no one should ever have to think about let alone live through. And as someone with anxiety and emotional errs, I just couldn’t process spending a day with this strong person. The second reason I cried is because this person smiled all day long…. SMILED!! It is enough that they woke up and actually lived another day through it, but laughed and smiled and was inspirational to others. I felt like a soda pop bottle all day ready to blow just from being so close to someone so powerful. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I cried.

Then today, damn it to hell, was a girl on the Today Show that was in the Boston Marathon bombing and lost her goddamned leg and she was laughing about it…LAUGHING! She wrote a break up letter to her leg. She wrote with a magic marker, “It’s not you it’s me.” ON HER LEG! I saw this young, blond beauty, strong and healthy with a firm runners body, who was now going to be a runner with one leg, and she was laughing just for being alive.

So instead of feeling inspired, I feel even more shitty. Because in my mind I have “problems” and “body issues” when in reality I have none.

I contacted my nutritionist this week along with a friend from my group and asked about classes for people with body image issues. I am in search of a support group for those that are past the initial weight loss surgery ups and downs. It’s been nearly two years, I know how to navigate the lap band at this point and am now walking others through it. What I don’t know quite how to navigate is me. The me in THIS body. And I need a map.

Thursday, November 6

Screw you, Moon.

To sleep…perchance to dream….

Two years. It has been two years that I have had to strap it down before bedtime. During this time I have become one with my CPAP machine, or my CRAP machine as I prefer to call it, but that doesn’t mean I am happy about it now or ever will be. I have come to accept it, to work with it, to just put on my big girl panties and use it every night. But I wish I could say it has gotten easier emotionally. It hasn’t.

At my monthly support group, one of the things that we have to go around and share is what the nutritionist calls our “Happies and Crappies”. Just like the name implies, we share all the good things that have come about since having surgery (um…the weight loss!!) and also the bad things (regurgitation, constipation, and lack of motivation are common themes). The adorable dietitian with her blond hair and blue eyes and cute little figure asks us to fill in the blank with, “I didn’t know ___________ would happen after my surgery.” She wants the veterans in the room to share with the newbies and those still in contemplation phase.

My answer?

Happy: weight loss, new life, can breathe, better relationships with my husband and children, family time, a new sense of hope.

Crappy: still have food addictions and unhealthy feelings about food, still see fatness in the mirror, still critique every inch of myself, still have to sleep with a mask.

Oh, and I didn’t know that after surgery, after the scars were long gone and the weight was lifted, that I would still be in constant…CONSTANT conflict with myself.

But I am.

I am pissed off.

I am pissed that every day someone has a problem that makes me want to lose my shit, a disgruntled soccer mom pissed about jersey colors, a disgruntled school parent who cannot fathom that their child is the monster they are at school, a disgruntled PTA member that isn’t getting exactly what they want, my disgruntled kids who still can’t follow a bed time routine.  And me. A disgruntled dieter that can’t lose any weight these days. That just doesn’t see what everyone else sees.

Is this my pattern? Full moon comes along and I write a long ass blog about how shitty I feel? About how I just want to control everyone and everything and I can’t?? Followed by 28 days of being empowered and lucky to be alive?

After I finally find that crystal ball on eBay I’m going to search for “Life for Dummies” next…..