Dominican a-ha moments

Erich and I recently went on a vacation that was 10 years overdue. For our 10th anniversary, we went to the Dominican Republic.

Since we've been married, we take our time off work to go to Ohio. Twice a year, a week each time. At my job I don't have a lot of days off so after the Ohio trips are done, I'm past done with vacation time. Erich does have more, but usually stays home when he takes it...because I can't take any more time off. I sometimes take an unpaid day or two here and there and we travel somewhere to see Bo and all our friends. So that's been the extent of our vacations. Forever.

This year we decided to buck the trend.

I'm not going to bore you with a long, winding blog about the minute details of the trip. Let me just say that I had a-ha moments every day.

Day One: Even getting on a plane nowadays is extraordinary. I zipped down the aisle to my seat (lots of room) and clipped my seat belt together for the first time without an extender. The last time I flew - in December 2009 - I was happy to fit into one seat but still required an extender. This time I had at least 6 inches of belt leftover. And yes, we took a picture (as always, click to enlarge):



I used an airplane bathroom for the very first time. I was always too afraid of not being able to fit and being embarrassed so I learned to hold it, even on longer flights. And there were the logistics of getting up, (yes, simply "getting up" in such a small place), inconveniencing my row-mates, not fitting down the aisle properly, etc., etc. This time I decided to try it and of course it was fine. See? Ordinary things become extraordinary.

Day Two: I am sitting on a white-sand beach, looking out over a crystal blue sea. I have on a swimsuit with no towel or store-bought piece of fabric to cover my body. My husband smiles at me and grabs the camera to take my photograph and I don't object. No one is staring, I don't feel self-conscious. A total first on a beach.



Day Three: Excursion to a national park and the El Limon waterfall. There will be hiking and horseback riding involved. Old thoughts creeping up on me as we wait for our horses to be chosen by local guides. Oh, I need a BIG, STRONG HORSE! God, what kind of Clydesdale will they select for me? I'm going to break the horse. They place the horses in front of stairs so we can climb up on them better. I'm starting to panic. Everyone is going to watch me climb on this horse?? Of course everything is fine. My horse is normal and seems to have no problem carting me up the huge hill. We have to hike to the bottom of the waterfall and there are more stairs. My arthritic knees are such that going down stairs is an issue. Going UP is no problem. The clouds burst open and a warm, hard rain begins to fall. Erich had to help me going down but he has problems going back up, while I trot right past him in the pouring rain. He tells me to go ahead but I wait for him at two points, then worry when I get to the top and he doesn't appear right away. Our roles are reversed in some ways now, especially when his asthma acts up.

As I'm riding back to camp in the rain on this horse, tears come to my eyes. I never would've entertained the notion of doing something like this two years ago. It would've been impossible. And look what I would've missed. Look at the life I was missing out on. It's crazy and makes me emotional.



Day Four: We go on a shopping trip with two other couples to the capital of the province, Samana. On the way to town, talk eventually turns to my weight loss. "Did you do it naturally or with surgery?" a woman asks. I loathe this question. I guess I will hear it for the rest of my life. I need to make some kind of peace with it, I suppose. "Surgery," I answer. "But I still worked my ass off." This is my go-to answer as I always feel the need to dispel the myth that you have bariatric surgery and the weight magically falls away. She nods and asks me if I have any regrets. "Not a single one," I reply. "Best thing I ever did in my life."

We explore the town. I can walk all day long and feel nothing. NOTHING! It's amazing stuff. We go to a little shop to buy something to drink. They have peanut butter!!!! I am missing my peanut butter already! LOL! Five US dollars for a tiny jar, though. I leave it. Ahhhhhhh peanut butter. We sit outside on the patio of a little cafe and hydrate. In chairs I never would've attempted to sit in two years ago. The small things are fantastic, you know?



Day Five: A free day. I wander around the resort taking pictures. We go back to the beach and head to dinner early. I bought five new dresses before I went on this trip. Dresses. ME!! I brought four with me and hey - they're comfy and I actually think I look ok in them. We have a drink in the poolside bar and the waitress keeps refreshing them for us. "Uno mas?" (one more?) she'll say while sitting new drinks in front of us. I've never drank as much alcohol in my life as I have this week. I was worried about that, being post-op. Always having been a cheap drunk, it's even worse now with my new plumbing system. And these drinks are STRONG. I'm not drunk but am having trouble maintaining my balance. LOL! Drinks, sun, a dress, a little tan - is this me? Wow.



Day Six: The day of our 10th anniversary and we're heading out on an ATV excursion. Yes, we're riding an ATV. One. With me on the back. As I climb behind Erich and wrap my arms around him, I am aware that this is a big first. I tell him "We have to get a motorcycle now." It's a messy, muddy day but so much fun. We're zipping along backroads in the Dominican countryside waving to local children and again I think how impossible this would've been pre-op. And the JOY, the LIFE, the fantastic moments I would've missed out on spending one more day trapped inside my body.



Day Seven: Another free day. We laze around the beach, the patio. A resort photographer offers to take some pictures of us. He takes a couple of me by myself with his pet iguana draped around my shoulders. He asks me to put my hands on my hips. I do and think the following: This is going to be a good picture. I feel my waist dip in where I put my hands. My body is so different now, huh? When we go look at the finished pictures later on, I can hardly believe that normal-sized, confident-looking woman is me. My mother-in-law looks at it when we get back home and nods her head in admiration. "Wow," she says then looks at me. "Congratulations, darling. Congratulations." Indeed.



It sure was a trip to remember, that's for sure. Full of WHOA moments. I hope I never take the normal, little things in life for granted just because I'm now at a size that allows me to do so. If I forget, I feel like I could easily go back to pre-op behaviors. And that's a slippery slope to walk, lemme tell ya. Falling into the abyss is only a few bad decisions away and I want to continue to live this wonderful life I've only recently discovered.