It’s surgiversary time! It’s surgiversary time
(Did anyone sing Howdy Doody when they read the headline?)
FIFTEENTH YEAR!!! What!?? Fifteen…my sleeve is a learner’s permit age. It never stops learning for sure. This year it has returned to its former glory and decided it likes where it is. I’ve maintain that size 4 all year. Granted, I have not always done it the right way, but we all know I do nothing the “right” way. I have been playing a mental game. Anyone that has ever had bariatric surgery will tell you, 90% is mental. There is a reason we are overweight. We have eating disorders. We take comfort in food for one reason or another. We live to eat. We eat for joy and we eat our sadness. All celebrations center around food. When we see a friend we say “let’s grab a bite and catch up”. Is it someone’s birthday or anniversary? Someone having a baby? Let’s have a tailgate party! All things we celebrate involve food. To an already skewed brain, this is a recipe for disaster.
Before our surgery date, we have to jump through psychiatric hoops. I think those same hoops should be required afterward and they may be now, but not 15 years ago. I’ve always been forthcoming in my blogs and I will honestly say I have an obsession with numbers. Numbers on the scale and numbers on my clothing are the reigning psychological issues of this past year.
I remember my mom would not get over a certain weight. If she did, she cut back. Some things we watch as children become ingrained in our psyche along with other outside forces we don’t realize until they are faced. Often times these things are found within the recesses of our brains during those sleepless nights. Other times they are found with the help of therapist.
I remember the first “diet” I went on in the 8th grade. I drank TAB! Yuck! The horrendous taste of the supposed diet drink started the yo yo world in which I became accustomed. I did NOT need to lose weight. I was 13-14 years old. I wasn’t fat but I wasn’t “shaped” like my peers. I am still not shaped like my peers and although I am now a “mature” age, I am still haunted with the fact that I never will be. A lifetime wasted trying to be something that wasn’t meant for me.
When people see me, they see a petite, lively, spirited person with a ready smile. I see a little old lady, with crepey skin, wrinkles, at least in the right places on my face, a jowl that is never ending and a belly like a bowl full of jelly. What I wouldn’t give for my brain to see nothing but that petite, lively, spirit. I am so thankful my friends see that for me. I am thankful my patients see a kind face. I’m thankful my grands see the zany fun Mammie.
My son, when he was in high school saw a picture from two years prior and said “dang mom! You were fat!” He was right, I was. But, my children didn’t see the fat that plagued me. They saw their mom. Their mom saw the fat.
Changing the mental game is tough. Mind over matter….if you don’t mind it won’t matter. Well, at least that is the saying.
Show me a person that doesn’t primp in the mirror an extra minute or two. Show me a person that doesn’t thoughtfully put together their outfit for the day. Show me a person that doesn’t look down at their shoes and think they need a new pair because those are looking rough. Show me a person that doesn’t drive the nicest car they can afford or live in the nicest house they can keep.
Everyone, and I do mean EVERYONE has something they pride themselves in. Fortunately, you can buy makeup, get a haircut, buy new clothes, purchase that car, put paint on that house and your reality changes. We want our bodies to be the nicest. We want to be pretty, healthy and thoughtfully put together but reality is, it isn’t just about calories in, calories out. It isn’t about putting on makeup, or shoes or cutting hair. We have to eat to live. We can’t get rid of the thing that haunts us. We can’t shed it like skin. It is sometimes a metabolic issue. Sometimes it is a mental block. Sometimes the hormones in our bodies fight against each other. Sometimes (like in my case) it is the constant food noise in an already noisy space. It has taken 15 years to finally shut her up. The tools of surgery helped a lot.
I wouldn’t trade the surgery for anything. The side effects I would give someone else in a heartbeat BUT the lessons and key points of the surgery are right where they are supposed to be. I will forever have to be on supplements as my bones are deteriorating. I am constantly in pain as those bones continue to crumble. Add the old arthritis that I so wonderfully inherited to the mix and it is enough to make one question the surgery. I don’t question the surgery at all. I would do it every time. My numbers are great. A1C down, cholesterol wonderful, I had a few good years with no joint pain, I’ve been able to run a half marathon, hike and climb any where I’ve wanted to go. I have stood atop some beautiful places and crawled into a few spaces. I’ve been on the back of a motorcycle with amazing friends going places I could have only dreamed possible. I’ve seen the northern part of our country and its most southern point. I’ve crawled through the mud and dirt of Arkansas. I’ve been able to travel to Guam and look forward to Japan and Utah this year. I have created a tribe I love dearly from perfect strangers. These are all things that without the surgery I couldn’t have done.
There are things I don’t miss. The looks of disgust from “skinny” people. While the reader may feel they don’t do this….trust me…most do. I don’t miss the way people treated me as a big girl in the world. People make some pretty weird and often times hurtful, assumptions. People (mostly guys) that would not even speak to me when I was bigger all of a sudden wanted to strike up conversations. This affected me in a strange way. I called out a few in the beginning. Now, I am apprehensive for anyone showing me attention. Asking myself the questions “would they be saying these things to me if I were bigger?” I am the same person little as I was big. My heart may be a bit harder but I still hold the same thoughts of love, companionship, dreams, goals and success that most all want.
I don’t miss the unflattering clothing. Although I will say, I had some cute things from Lane Bryant. Don’t discount the fact that larger sizes include ill fitting undergarments! Large doesn’t mean the same thing across the board. XL, XXL, XXXL all different from store to store. I don’t miss the shortness of breath. I don’t miss the inability to move freely. I don’t miss the sleep apnea. I don’t miss cutting my big ass with a razor (LOL story for another day)
Things I do miss…..eating. The art of mastication. Chewing and swallowing savory foods all while your eyes roll back in your head with pure delight. Not being able to get enough of those luscious foods (think the holiday feeling). I am stuffed after a few bites. While one side of me wants to eat more the other dares me to do it. It is a constant battle of wills.
Believe it or not, SOMEtimes….not often…I would love a Coca Cola. This isn’t as bad as it was the first few years but a little taste would be good on a hot day. Like an alcoholic, I know I will never have another taste of one for fear of the repercussions. Cokes were my devil. They were my evil. The red cans remind me of the hell I was in when I was drinking them and it isn’t worth the taste.
Things that don’t change regardless of the amount of time away from metabolic surgery. Depression is real. Obesity can exacerbate it. Serotonin does not replenish. You have what you have and if depleted like anything else there are consequences. The way you see yourself, the way you feel others see you, regardless of your size, the devil is a LIAR. Always has been, always will be.
Obsessive behaviors are often traded for other issues. Overeating can turn into overspending. Excessive dieting can turn into excessive control of other things. It is called addiction transfer. Giving up one addiction can transfer over to another. Giving up the addiction to food can turn to an addiction to smoking, gambling, over exercise. Unfortunately, my addiction is numbers. So, this year. I am going to try and step back a bit. I make no promises. Why couldn’t I have the over exercise?
There it is… the yearly celebration of the blog beginnings. The ramblings of an old lady looking back on one of the best decisions ever made. If you made it this far, thank you for spending some time with me. If you ever read my blog before now, thank you for indulging me. Thanks for getting to know me. Inside this blog are lots of tall tales and funny stories, but the surgiversary ones are the most baring and personal of all. HAPPY 15TH!!!!!
