Here's a tip for ya

'Tis the season to be inundated with "helpful" tips to keeping your waistline trim while you navigate your way through office parties, get-togethers with friends and celebrations with family. Here are my thoughts on this, likely to be controversial.

Isn't there enough to stress out about? Enjoy yourself a little bit. Why in the world would you have half an apple and a full glass of ice water (cold water revs up your metabolism; water fills you up; apples are loaded with water) at Aunt Mabel's house rather than enjoy a small slice of her homemade pie or shortbread? Honest to god, I don't get it.

I recently read that the average person gains one pound over the holidays. And even if you gain two or *gasp*...three, so freakin' what? Your routine will return to normal in January and it'll come off. Just live your life.

Have a cookie. Not the whole tin. Done.

And if you're one of those people who can't have one because one starts an avalanche, well, ok. But for most of us, we can live with it. I believe moderation is the key to living without deprivation. I don't believe you need to give up mashed potatoes or the occasional piece of pumpkin pie to have success. Relax and enjoy the holidays!

Now, off topic, if you don't follow Tony Posnanski, The Anti-Jared, you should. Especially on Facebook. His posts are awesome. Tony lost over 200 pounds and knows what he's talking about. Listen to him and get inspired.

The secret under our clothes

Good grief, it's been a while.

So did any of you watch TLC's The Real Skinny last Monday? I didn't watch till this weekend, but man...it was like watching me.

We follow two post-ops on their final journey to "normal" - the removal of the excess skin that oftentimes comes with massive weight loss. Sarah is 28 and was once almost 400 pounds. Chris is 41 and started out at 424. They have both reached a normal weight, but deal with the aftermath of what they did to their bodies every day when they look into the mirror.

They both get the dream procedure for most post-ops: The 360 circumferential body lift. YOWZA!!! If I ever win the lottery, this is the one. As their surgeon, Dr. J. Timothy Katzen, described, it's sort of like "cutting someone in half and putting them back together."

Sarah's story was especially poignant to me, since we look very similar naked. I know it's not what a lot of you want to hear, especially those just starting out, but it's the truth. It's the "secret under my clothes", as Chris said that people who have gone through massive weight loss - whether surgical or "natural" - hide every single day. Hide it from everyone but themselves, that is.

It's very difficult to explain how painful it is, psychologically, to be successful with your battle against obesity yet not to feel like you've completed the transformation because you are still ashamed of the way you look. It's hard to explain that to people who are not in the same boat. They think you're crazy. You should just be happy that you've lost all the weight and to them, you look great! Of course, they don't see you naked, right?

Sarah explained her daily routine stuffing her stomach skin down into her jeans. Of lifting the skin to wash underneath it; using powder to keep it dry and diaper rash ointment to soothe the inevitable rashes that occur (I have both in my bathroom right now). Of feeling it jerk and jiggle all over the place when you run. Chris talked about how it smacks him when he does jumping jacks or "hits the ground first" when he does a push-up. All of this is true, and the great majority of post-ops quietly deal with it every day.

It's worth mentioning that I never had these issues with my fat. It's the skin that's the problem. So that's the demoralizing part. You think the physical challenges of your life will be over when you lose weight. You think you'll be bursting to get into a bikini or wear shorts and halter tops. You think life will be normal, and it's not. It's still not. And that is heartbreaking for a lot of people. Sarah's first words in the recovery room were "Am I skinny yet?" This from someone who has lost more than 200 pounds.

Now I'm not about to sit here and tell you I cry into my Crystal Light every day about this. I don't. I am so grateful to have accomplished everything I have so far. I'm proud of myself and hey....I do look pretty damn good (with clothes on, anyway). But the excess skin does suck. It affects the way I shop, it affects the way I see myself and reminds me of what I let myself become. Of what I did to myself and my body. That hurts a lot. This is what I did to myself. It's my punishment for how I behaved for most of my life. Sarah said as much during the show and that's similar to how I feel, too.

Lately I have felt myself backsliding into bad habits that I know I need to get a grip on. I've had some regain this winter but the scale is starting to move back down. I know how to do this. Another reminder that I will never be done. That's ok; I just need to always remember it and not just when it's convenient for me. I made a promise to you all and to myself - in this blog - that I would never be one of those people who says "Before I knew what happened, I'd gained 50 pounds." So I need to get it together before that happens. Don't worry, we're not even close to that number! And we never will be!

One more thing then I'll stop: Those Weight Watchers commercials with Jennifer Hudson screeching in them grate on my nerves. Tired of it! Moving on....

Judgment nation

I've had a pretty crazy week, so I'm just going to get right to it and talk about a few things out in the news last week, things I have definite opinions on and feel need to be addressed.

The British singer Adele appears on the cover of current issue of "Vogue" magazine. The article is wonderful and makes no mention of her figure. Adele herself has been quoted as saying she "makes music for ears, not eyes." Well, let your eyes get a load of this (click to enlarge):



Obviously, this has created a lot of controversy. Why would they so obviously Photoshop her body in that way? I don't have an issue with them perfecting her skin or whatever, but making her body look like Jessica Rabbit is not cool. She's gorgeous just the way she is. What kind of message does this send to young girls? You can have the voice of an angel, be beautiful to look at, honored for your outstanding work by your peers but....but really, we still want you to look like a Barbie doll. Crazy, crazy stuff. Totally wrong and dangerous.

The other story that caught my attention last week was an interview Star Jones did with Matt Lauer on the Today Show. I believe this is the first time Star has really opened up about her gastric bypass surgery and resulting 160-pound weight loss.



Star begins the interview by declaring "“I was definitely a food addict. My entire adult life I had been overweight. I wasn’t fluffy. I wasn’t full figured. I wasn’t plus-sized. I was morbidly obese.” She goes on to explain her decision to keep the surgery a secret - she had made so much of her life public, some fans were understandably upset when learning how she launched her weight-loss success story. And she gets that. She basically just said she wasn't ready.

Honestly, I totally understand why so many people choose to hide it. There's a large stigma, even today but even more so in 2003, attached to having this surgery. I'm not sure what the difference would be between someone who uses surgery to help them lose weight and someone who uses a nicotine patch to help them quit smoking. Would you tell the reformed smoker that they "took the easy way out" or didn't "do it on their own" simply because they didn't go cold turkey? Whatever works, people. This is a matter of life and death. The stigma really has to stop.

Star says she attributes about 100 pounds of loss directly to the surgery; the rest was just hard work. She's so right about that. You will lose weight at first but it's up to you to eat right and get your ass to the gym to go the distance and lose all you need to then keep it off.

Then we had the sad and tragic news of Whitney Houston's death. I learned this from a dear friend while at a dinner party in Nashville (more on that later!) and needless to say, I was stunned. She was a big part of my teenage years and beyond, her beautiful voice weaving its way into precious memories of my youth. We still don't know for sure what killed her but boy, the opinions are pretty narrow. It had to be a drug overdose, right? And should we be honoring her (with either half-mast flags or non-stop press coverage) when she was just a drug addict anyway?

How sad. How sad that we can't just remember her for the wonderful memories she brought to our lives. Even if you have never bought a Whitney Houston CD in your life, surely (especially if you're American) you remember her unparalleled rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner at the 1991 Super Bowl. Do you remember who was playing? Who won? Probably not. But you remember this:



For the record, I don't think the flags in New Jersey should be at half mast. But not because she was "just a drug addict singer". I don't think it should've been done for Frank Sinatra, either - but it was. That honor should be reserved for fallen soldiers, presidents, etc.

The sad parallel between these three seemingly unrelated stories? Our expectations of other people and the way we so harshly judge them when we know nothing about them or the struggles they go through. Adele is judged for her body, not her voice. Star for her obesity and the method she chose to save her own life, and not her intellect. Whitney for her illness of addiction and not her fantastic talent. Society places such unrealistic expectations of perfection on people, especially women.

I propose that we all give each other a break. Just a thought.

A tale of two dresses

Well one, really. One dress, two bodies.

Most women I know long for the days when they were thin enough to fit into their wedding gowns. I am not one of those women.

Oftentimes, that's when we look our absolute best. We diet and kill ourselves to fit into this tiny, white dress so we look perfect for 24 hours and have the photographs to prove it. Then the business of actually being married sets in (kids, frantic schedules, bills, stress) and the weight is gained back and then some. This is the normal routine in most women's lives.

I started thinking about my own wedding gown a while back, as our 10th anniversary approached. We talked about possibly renewing our vows and joked about altering my gown so I could wear it on my new body.

Recently I was reading Redbook, one of my favorite magazines, and it seems they are featuring an ongoing story about women who want to fit back into their wedding gowns. It's called the Wedding Dress Challenge. The piece will follow 13 women on their quest to squeeze back into that frilly white dress. By the way, there are some great diet and exercise tips in that link - I urge you to check it out. So reading that got me to thinking: I hope I never fit into my wedding dress again!

There's a show on TLC called Say Yes to the Dress: Big Bliss which features plus-sized brides looking for the perfect dress. I watched several episodes of it last weekend and again found myself thinking about my own quest for the dress as what's termed a "supersize" plus-sized bride-to-be and how my gown would fit me today.

You know what happened next. I dragged it out of the closet and handed Erich a camera.

Holy shit.

So this is Erich, my brother-in-law and me 10 years ago at my wedding. We don't have very good photographs from that day, I'm sorry to say. No photographer or anything, just family snapping pics. It's my biggest regret from that day. Always, always hire a photographer. Borrow the money if you have to (click to enlarge).



And this is that same dress on me, last night:





The first thing that struck me was how long it was. I felt like a little girl playing dress-up. So yeah. I hope I never, ever fit into that dress again. It must also be said that I had it custom made, so it fit me well at the time. I mean, there was no way I could go into a bridal salon and pick out a dress; it just wasn't going to happen. When I was watching Big Bliss, there was one bride who was bigger than a size 32 and they just didn't know what the hell to do because that's where the sizes stopped. I would've been screwed as well and I knew it. I never set foot inside a dress shop, I had one made for me. Crazy, huh?

Seriously, if I can do this you can, too. You can. You are stronger than you think you are!

My 600-lb Life on TLC

I am inspired by others' weight-loss success stories, so I often watch television shows featuring diet, exercise and healthy living. I've written extensively about my personal need for broadcast motivation. I see others succeeding and it makes me think I can do it, too.

So I was very anxious to watch a new short-run series on TLC called "My 600-lb Life". It's a four-episode series that follows a different person each night on his or her weight-loss journey via gastric bypass. Each patient begins weighing at least 600 pounds. It premiered Wednesday night and featured Melissa, a woman from Ohio, living in Texas, who started out weighing in at 653 pounds.

In one of my first blog entries, before my surgery, I said "...before it gets to the point where I need assistance in walking across the floor, I have to do THIS so I never find TLC knocking at my door wanting to do a special on the shut-in. No, never, not me." It was a serious fear of mine. I could feel myself falling down the rabbit hole and knew something drastic had to be done. At my highest weight, I was hovering around 500 pounds.

Melissa can still walk but it's not easy. She requires assistance to do the most basic of things, intimate tasks which she embarrassingly talks briefly about later in the broadcast. Her husband is her lifeline. He is more caretaker and nursemaid than lover or partner. This was also a big fear of mine...I did not want to put Erich in this situation. Ever. I could see it coming like the light on a locomotive still far away but barreling down on me, fast. And me, standing in the darkness in the middle of the tracks, terrified but knowing I needed to swerve or die.

In one of the first scenes, Melissa is on a scooter in a grocery store - because she cannot walk around long enough to shop - and people are staring; one man makes a smart remark and she cries. Again...I could see this coming at me. I could see this being my life. I resisted the scooter in stores and walked through the pain, in agony and red-faced, sweating in January, because I didn't want the scrutiny. There are so many things that resonated with me in the two hours of this show that I can't write about all of them or we'd be here all day long.

It seems she got much the same after-care advice I did: Protein, protein, protein. Limit refined carbs and sugar, especially at first. They follow her through seven years of ups and downs. It's quite a journey.

She had two skin-removal surgeries, one of which removed 60 pounds and another that took off 30. And she still had some loose skin issues. Kind of makes mine seem trivial in comparison. It seems she didn't experience many complications from the gastric bypass beyond initial nausea (same with me). However, complications arose after the second surgery but mainly because she wasn't eating properly and became malnourished. I've said it over and over...patient compliance is KEY to success with any surgery, including gastric bypass.

Two major things I want to say about the show: A big plus: The relationship with her husband is explored quite a bit and I was glad to see that. Her husband had problems adjusting to this new woman who wanted to do things for herself now, who wanted to get out and enjoy her new life. I've also written about the minefield that can be a post-weight-loss marriage/partnership. People get accustomed to living a certain way and when that gets turned upside down, it can be a lot to handle. Your partner MUST get on board with it or be pushed overboard. It's that simple. Please, please, please do not hold yourself back. Have some sympathy for the fact they will also need time to adjust, but not at the expense of yourself and your success. I question Melissa's decision to have a child with her husband and stay with him through his treatment of her. When she discovers his infidelity, her response is "well, at 600 pounds what do you expect?" You expect RESPECT. Kindness and loyalty. It's so sad how a person's self-esteem will make them react to pain inflicted upon them. They think they deserve it. Very sad. It's not about the 600 pounds. It's about his character, which he proves to her again and again. Yet she still stays.

A big minus: In the whole two-hour episode - which, as I said, follows her over the course of seven years - we never see Melissa at a gym. Not working out to an exercise DVD, nothing. I fear this will perpetuate the myth that she simply hopped onto an operating table and lost nearly 500 pounds. She alludes to this way of thinking and debunks it, but still. I kept waiting for the sweat and never saw any. HUGE fail, in my opinion. You have to work at weight loss, no matter what the method is. Yes, you will lose weight with gastric bypass no matter what you do in the first few months. But you won't continue that loss or maintain it without either hard work the healthy way or transferring your food addiction to other damaging behaviors like anorexia.

After her weight loss, Melissa found work as a patient liaison at the bariatric clinic at which she had her surgery. It was her job to talk to patients pre-op and get them ready for the journey ahead. She led group discussions and private meetings; they even showed her going into peoples' homes and guiding them on what foods to eat. THIS is what I want to do. I've known it for a long time. To help people on their way to a new life would be the ultimate dream job. I'd said to myself this was one of my new year's resolutions - to find work like this. There's a clinic about 30 minutes away from me and that's where I'll start. Somehow! I don't know the first thing about the place - never even been there - but I need to take some baby steps towards this new goal and make it happen.

The show re-airs on Monday at 9 (EST) and a new episode, with a new patient, airs Wednesday night. I have so much more to say about the show but this blog is long enough. Besides, I'm sure I'll be writing more about the new episode and each one after that.

A thousand words

When Erich and I first got married, I insisted that we begin a tradition of having yearly family portraits taken with my stepdaughter, Ericha. My family and friends were very far away and when I sent Christmas cards, I wanted a nice update to include along with it. Ericha's birthday is in early November so we would always schedule a session around that time in order to get a nice shot of her, alone, and have the prints back in time to send in our Christmas cards. I was also eager to start some traditions for Ericha and indeed, this was something she seemed to look forward to every year.

We stopped when she turned 18 in 2007. But last year, Erich and I talked about getting some professional portraits done for our 10th wedding anniversary. We didn't have any really nice photographs of us since my weight loss and it being a special occasion, we decided to revive the tradition and include Ericha in the session as well.

When I went to the pre-session consultation (this was big time, no usual Sears or Walmart portraits...LOL), the photographer wanted to know what kind of family we were. Casual, formal, playful, etc. I told her we were very casual. Just because this was a professional session, there would be no formal wear and no stuffy poses. I told her my husband's hair was shoulder length and my stepdaughter's was pink. Multiple tattoos and piercings all around. So you get the idea. She laughed and said "Wonderful!"

The photo session was interesting and fun. None of us had never posed for a pro before, so there was some trial and error as they hovered around us with light meters and gently persuaded us to move a hand, tilt a head, or put on a genuine smile.

The results were more than I could've hoped for. The photo on the left below is the one from our first family portrait, in 2002. The one on the right is from the latest session (click to enlarge).



After showing this before-and-after to someone just the other day, she asked me, in reference to the shot on the right, "Did you ever think you would look like that? Or could look like that?" No. Absolutely not! I suppose I do so many of these before-and-after things because the change doesn't hit me too much when I look in the mirror. I need to see it with my own eyes laid out before me, then I get it. And it helps! It's motivating and makes me understand all the hard work I've done and how I never want to go back.

Motivation for maintenance is key. You have to do what works for you, whatever it is that makes you get up and go to the gym, eat healthy at least most of the time, and love yourself enough for your accomplishment to GET IT. Look what you've done! It's amazing! But it ain't free. You have to work at it forever. But it's very important to take the time and be present in your mind to look at what you've done and what you CAN do.

Here's our 10th anniversary portrait. I can't say enough about my love for my husband. Partnership and support through this whole journey is of the utmost importance. And the best thing about him is this: He loved me just as much in that 2002 portrait as he does in this one. Just as much.

Coat tales

Before I lost weight, I would "joke" that I had to be the biggest person in Canada.

I couldn't find a single, solitary thing to wear in stores. Everyone - and I mean everyone - around was smaller than me; indeed, most people were a healthy, normal weight, but even those who were obese weren't as big as I was. The difference in the appearance of the population between my hometown in south-central Ohio and here was jarring to me, especially at first. Most of the time, I felt like a freak. I hadn't felt that to the same degree at home because there were a lot of people around who looked like me. Unfortunately.

When I arrived here 10 years ago, I complained that sizes in Walmart only went to 3X in clothes and size 10 in shoes. Plus-size specialty stores had sizes up to 4X. Seriously...what the hell was I going to do? My mother-in-law made a lot of my clothes and I did a lot of stocking up on trips home. That's how I avoided scaring folks by walking around naked.

My favorite line was "There are no fat people in Canada!" None like me, anyway!

Since losing weight, I have given away an entire wardrobe of clothes. I sold very little, preferring to give most of it to thrift stores and charities. However, I had some really nice coats that I couldn't see giving away. I mean, a size 4X leather trench coat and a never-worn size 6X parka....there has to be a market for that, right? Someone, somewhere would buy them. So I put them a lot of other offerings on our local Kijiji and figured I'd be rid of them within a few days. If I'd seen this stuff listed pre-op, I would've been jumping for joy, I reasoned. There has to be someone who is having a hard time finding a coat who will be really pleased to take one off my hands.

WRONG.

I first listed them last fall and got lots of responses right away so I was optimistic. But I quickly learned people don't understand the concept of these sizes. I had women show up to try on a size 5X jacket or coat who were clearly much smaller than that. As soon as some of them walked in, I knew. "What the hell are people thinking?" I would ask Erich. "You can't wear a 5X if you're clearly a 2 or 3X!" Every time someone came by, the coats were too big for them. Always.

I sold two out of 16 items.

After briefly considering giving them all away, I decided to keep four of the nicer, more expensive ones and gave the rest away because well, one of my old coats takes up the room of three or four in my new size. I needed the space. So this past fall, I re-listed the four. No hits. Not a single one!

Finally, this past weekend, someone emailed about the size 6X parka. Dude drove about 45 minutes to come try it on. He really wanted it. I handed it to him and his first words are "Whoa! It's big!" Well....yeah, it's a 6X. It's big. WTF? He tried it on. Too big.

Sigh.

After being told what I weighed pre-op, I've had people (here, in Ontario) say to me that they never would've thought I weighed that much. Maybe 250 pounds or something. That, to them, is the highest they can imagine someone weighing. By that I mean that they don't have a concept of what 450 pounds looks like so they can't imagine anyone weighing that much. I guess when you weigh 120 pounds, 250 seems enormous. So maybe that's what's going on with the coats, but in reverse. These people have no concept of a size 6X (because it doesn't exist much up here) but they know they're big; so they show up thinking they'll be able to wear it but can't. It's weird.

So now I don't know what the hell to do with these beautiful, wonderful coats. I know someone would love to have them but those people are certainly not in my area. I don't want to mess around with shipping so e-bay is out. Maybe I'll hang onto them till I go home and have my parents put them up for sale there.

Hm. Maybe I was right all along and I really WAS the biggest person in Canada! I'm kidding. I know I wasn't but I find this misconception of obesity and size by people around me strangely fascinating because I know there wouldn't be this issue in my area of Ohio.

If you know any plus or super plus-size people who need a winter coat, send them my way!

So you're considering bariatric surgery?

As I mentioned in my last blog, a friend of mine recently had gastric bypass surgery at a nearby hospital. He came through everything just fine, as expected. There is no doubt in my mind he will be successful - because he totally rocks - and I am so excited to bear witness to the wonderful journey on which he has embarked.

There are a few other friends of mine who are either considering surgery or completing preliminary programs and waiting on a surgery date. While no beacon of knowledge, I make myself available to those who have questions and concerns. I've been through this and like to think I can add something to the table. However, I also make it clear that my experience is mine alone. Everyone's is different and you should only do what you and your doctor feel is right for you.

Looking back through old posts recently, it occurs to me probably one of the most valuable things I can give to those who are searching for answers - beyond answering individual questions, which I'm happy to do - is direct them to the blogs I wrote surrounding my surgery date. Maybe start in late June, 2009 and continue on through July. My surgery date was July 7, 2009 and I wrote about the actual surgical procedure and its aftermath here.

Day one of my pre-op liquid diet, and a particular passage caught my eye:

Right now, I'm in a much better mood than I thought I'd be. I've been on the verge of tears a few times, but overall I'm ok. I'm hungry, but I'll live. The first day is always the worst. But what I'm doing now to overcome this lifelong, debilitating affliction is a small price to pay for living long enough to hear one more song; read one more book; feel one more hug or kiss - write one more word.

It'll be worth it.

This is something all bariatric patients, including myself, need to remember when the going gets tough. It's also true for those who haven't had the surgery. It's hard, it sucks some days, but it's all worth it in the end. I haven't spoken to anyone, personally, who wouldn't repeat the surgery and go through all the bullshit over again. I was very lucky and had very few physical side effects. Most of my issues were psychological and I still struggle with those.

Recovery from food addiction and obesity is a lifelong process, like recovery from anything else. There are times when I fall off the proverbial wagon and have to chase it down again, scrambling back on with both hands and holding on for dear life. If I don't, I'll end up right back where I started and I want to ride that wagon, baby! Take me far away from the behavior patters I made in the past, please. It's not easy or something that will ever be effortless, at least not for me. Choices are made each day to be healthy, to continue living. You'd think that would be effortless and a no-brainer but it's not. When your demons get a hold of you, they are difficult to eradicate.

There are also a couple links to the side of this blog I found helpful but I will also put them here for those who are interested. The woman who started the website from which they originated doesn't update anymore but she left everything up and it's a good read. After you get to these FAQ sections, I would suggest clicking around her site via the links on the top right of those pages:

FAQs for pre-ops

FAQs for post-ops

Again, her experience differs from mine and yours will likely be different from both of ours, but it's still worth checking out, in my opinion.

Good luck to everyone choosing a healthier lifestyle, whether it's through surgery or not. I'm here for you in any way I can be!

Cool clothes?

Shallow blog alert:

Clothes are weird. When people lose weight, you hear about them going nuts buying clothes because of the sudden abundance of choices. Now, of course I did that - the sheer joy of owning things I was never able to fit into was not lost on me. But now that I'm "settling" into maintenance I have noticed something: Clothes are still difficult to find.

At first, I just wanted the damn shirt because it was a 2X...or a 1X...then an XL. I can wear it? Then I must have it!!! Right now!!! There were things in my closet that, in the clear light of day, made me go WTF? much like taking off beer goggles the morning after a drunken one-night stand.

Wandering around any random women's clothing department, nowadays I'm trying to be much pickier about what finds its way into my cart. And here's the thing - most of the time, I prefer the styles of the plus-size department. Shocked? Not more than me.

So I got to thinking about this....why? For years, I assumed I wore the clothes I was physically able to wear for that lone reason. They fit on my body, so I bought them. Of course, I couldn't wear many things in the plus-size department anyway; I was too big, even for them. But I wanted to. Badly. And sometimes I still do. I'm not sure if I grew to like the styles because of necessity or what but in some instances I find myself turning my nose up at the offerings in the misses' department and wishing I could find something small enough in plus sizes.

Weird, huh?

Just another thing I bet most people don't consider when beginning a weight-loss journey. I know, I know....cry me a river. And honestly, it's not a huge thing but it's on my mind so now you're going to read about it. Sorry!

It's not all about patterns and colours. My new body is also a big factor in why it's difficult to find things that suit me because I often discover I need the cut of a plus size (nipped-in waist, fuller cut in the tummy/hips) but the numbers on the tag aren't small enough. The "regular" clothes aren't cut for someone with all this extra skin. Spanx helps but doesn't work miracles.

So the hunt for cool clothes is never ending for us all, right? To be continued...

A shout-out to a very special reader/friend who will go under the knife this week and start his own weight-loss journey: You know who you are. Good luck and I'm merely an email or phone call away if you need anything. You're going to do this and kick ass. I know it! *hugs*

Making a list

I came across an old forgotten list yesterday. No heading, but I can guess the topic:

- Walk long distances
- Buy any clothes I want
- Not worry about width or strength of seats at concerts, movies, etc.
- Sit in a booth
- Cross my legs
- Sit on Erich's lap
- More energy
- Have people easily pass by me at my workstation
- Stand **UP** at concerts or just in general
- Never be embarrassed to be seen again

So let's take stock of these goals:

- Well, I officially walked a 5K but I certainly have walked farther than that, too. So I think that counts. It's funny that I put this at the top of the list...maybe it was because when I started exercising, I could only walk a few feet before wanting to stop due to the pain and breathlessness.

- It took me a long time to not think too much about the strength and width of seats before I sat down, but I don't too much anymore. The fear has lessened greatly.

- Every time I sit in a booth, I am happy. I think about how I once couldn't do that every time I climb into one. And I will sit in a booth everywhere if I can. 20+ years of answering "Table" to the question "Booth or table?" is o-v-e-r.

- I now cross my legs as a matter of comfort. It's how I prefer to sit. Unthinkable pre-op.

- I still feel odd sitting on Erich's lap but I love to do it. Just because I can.

- More energy is a given.

- This took a long time to get over as well. Until recently, I pushed my chair in when I sensed someone was about to walk behind me at work. But slowly, I'm understanding that it's no longer an issue.

- I can stand and rock out for an entire show then walk blocks and blocks back to my car. No sweat.

- I'm not embarrassed to be seen anywhere. Being in a bathing suit on a beach in the Dominican Republic went a long way towards easing that fear!

I guess I was brainstorming? Probably thinking of things to write about. Most likely these goals did become part of the history of this blog, as they became history in my life. I think it's safe to say I've accomplished them all with the exception of the second one. "Buying any clothes I want" isn't going to happen without skin-removal surgery which isn't going to happen without a winning lottery ticket. But if that's all I have to worry about then I'm good. And I do pretty well - last month I bought two size-10 dresses. I've decided to buy all my clothes at Sears now, since the sizing is obviously skewed as I am NOT a size 10. However, a label is a label! :)))

This list seems like it was created pretty early in my journey. So much has happened to me, it seems like a lifetime ago when I felt that way. Yet it also seems like yesterday. Some people, after they lose a lot of weight, say "I don't even know that person. She/he isn't me anymore." They shake their heads at their former selves and shudder. But I don't feel that way at all. That was me; it IS me. How can I forget her or have any malice toward her? She kept me alive for 40 years and I am grateful to her for her strength in the creation of the NEW me.

I don't want to forget the woman who made this list. If I do, I will lose myself and fail.

And she is a winner. Oh yeah! She is!

The whining women

When you're a fat chick, the last thing you want to hear is women thinner than you bitching about their weight. It feels insulting and it pisses said fat chicks off. I know, because I was one of those fat chicks all my life. Well....I still AM a fat chick, but I digress. Few things ticked me off more than a size-four woman whining about how she reeeeeeally needed to lose 10 pounds.

Notice I refer to fat CHICKS, because honestly, I don't know a single man who complains that his life would be complete if he could just shave off the last, stubborn 10 pounds. Not a single one. I think it tends to be a woman thing. We never think we're good enough, do we?

I have lost 250 pounds. I am healthy, happy (most of the time) and look better than I've looked since I was 18 years old (well, in most ways). See how I qualify everything? I truly believe the qualifiers, too. It never ends. No matter how you look or what you accomplish it's usually not enough. Why do we constantly seek perfection instead of taking a step back and recognizing what we've already done well?

The bad news is I can see myself turning into one of the whining women. The really bad news is that I truly do need to lose 10 pounds, but anyway....my point is that the way that thought is always in my brain makes me crazy. I hate it from the point of view that I'm turning into what I have never liked. Is it vanity? Probably not in my case. The elephant in the room is that for food addicts like me, 10 pounds easily turns into 20 - then 30 and so on. So getting a grip on things is very important.

I've spent a lot of time writing about how I wanted to be "normal". I did come to realize, eventually, that I am not and never will be "normal" in my relationship with food. I can't be casual with my diet and exercise - it's something I will have to be super conscious about my whole life. And it SUCKS.

The one thing that is "normal" and shouldn't be is this constant self-criticism. Every day I strive for some sort of happy medium between knowing I need to watch what I eat and trying not to be neurotic about it. Because I can see the neurosis is leading me to some slight depression and in turn, to bad choices....which is what I'm trying to avoid in the first place. There's no need to be perfect. Vigilant yes. The perfect, happy, shining face of gastric-bypass success? No.

With the holidays coming, we all walk a slippery slope. I think most people gain a couple pounds over the holidays and it's difficult to get back into healthy habits after the new year. But again, for food addicts like me, it's doubly difficult. Imagine a smoker who has quit, takes it up again for a month then must cut back to having only one cigarette a week. And they must be happy with that much nicotine and no more. That's a good comparison. This year I'm already behind the 8-ball in that I need to take off a few pounds as the chow-fest that is December begins. So, vigilance is the name of the game. I am not normal. But I'm also not perfect. The key is forgiveness and moving on, right? Right.

My intention is to LOSE weight this month, not gain. Wish me luck! This constant fight is not easy but the results are worth it. There is no going back to the old me.

Fat Flashbacks

I'm pretty sure everyone has heard of acid flashbacks. Well, I'm here to tell you I have FAT Flashbacks. The best thing I can compare it to is post traumatic stress disorder - almost like I've been through a war and sometimes a certain thing will trigger a memory where I'm right back in the trenches, feeling and experiencing everything I was going through before I lost weight.

I've made no secret of my love for the show "The Biggest Loser". I started watching it when I was losing weight for my surgery. It helped me tremendously to see real people who were nearly my size (there have only been a couple contestants on the show who were as big as I was) exercising and doing things unimaginable to me. It made me think I could do it, too. I still watch faithfully. This season, one contestant on the show is particularly tugging at my heart.

Musician Vinny Hickerson arrived on the ranch weighing in at 426 pounds. Now there's some backstory with Vinny. Erich and I saw him and his band Trailer Choir perform at the 2010 CMA Fest and were so impressed, their new CD became part of the soundtrack in our home and cars. Yes, even Erich - the country music hater who let it be known he would NOT have a good time there but in the end loved it - really got into their sound. We were also blown away by Vinny's stage performance. Here was a 400-pound guy in bibs doing the worm on stage in 95-degree heat. Vinny can MOVE! I remember watching him and being envious of his agility. I certainly couldn't move like that when I weighed that much!

Last week, trainer Bob Harper was pushing Vinny beyond anything he's done so far on the ranch. Vinny was on the treadmill and Bob kept raising the incline. Eventually, he got to 10. A 10 incline is tough when you're just strolling, but Vinny was RUNNING. Vinny's done very well on the show, but as young as he is (27) and at his weight...and being a man....one would expect bigger numbers from him and his male team members each week. Now I'm not sure exactly what their problem is (I do have an idea and plan a blog on that later) but Bob's team has kicked ass each week. So when Bob finally got a hold of Vinny, I was soooo happy.

"It's time for you to pull double digits every week," Bob told Vinny.
"Yes, sir" was the Southern-boy reply.

Meanwhile, a tape is running of an interview with Vinny taken after all this was going on. He says, "I weigh 372 pounds. You're not supposed to be able to do a 10 at 372 pounds."

I kept watching this and was suddenly overcome with emotion. I weighed 372 pounds on July 7, 2009 - the date of my gastric bypass. Watching Vinny running on that treadmill did something to me. It took me back in time and made me empathize with what he was feeling. How hard that must've been for him and how satisfying it must've been to accomplish it. The look of effort on his face made me weep for him, for me, for everyone in that position. I remembered how hard it was for me to run around my cul-de-sac the first time. I did it because I saw another contestant on this show do it - so I knew I had the power as well.

I cried. I paced. Wrung my hands. My breathing increased and I was worried about a panic attack for a moment. My cats looked at me like I was insane. Deep breathing...

"You are not 372 pounds anymore. Never going back. Never going back. It's ok. That's not you anymore." These are the things I whispered to myself and eventually I calmed down.

Fat Flashback. I don't know if others go through this, but I've had a few of these kinds of episodes. I assume it's my brain's way of dealing with change and fear. Even though it's been a year now in this new body, my head hasn't completely caught up with it all yet. Actually, I don't know if it ever will.

Plus, everyone who has ever lost a great deal of weight fears going back. Regain is the nightmare monster chasing us 24/7. I think when I remember being that way, the fear comes to me that the boogeyman is there. Again, my brain has to somehow deal with this shit, right? It is what it is.

MSNBC calling?

I woke up this morning to an email from what I thought had to be a prankster or a troll. Someone purporting to be health reporter Rita Rubin was asking to talk to me about a story she was writing for msnbc.com about families of gastric bypass patients.

Suuurrreeee, I thought. Tell me another one! I almost didn't write back to her. Well, I'm glad I did because it was no joke and I ended up having a very nice conversation with Ms. Rubin. The premise of her story was that families of gastric bypass patients are found to sometimes lose weight as well. She asked me if that had been my experience.

Erich hasn't lost massive amounts of weight, but his lifestyle changed right along with mine.

Erich has never been extremely overweight. When I married him, he wasn't overweight at all. As I mention in the article, I sort of dragged him down with me into my illness of inactivity and bad eating habits. I feel badly about this a lot. He was active before we met and had hobbies such as camping, swimming, etc. I wrote about our ninth-anniversary camping trip last year and what a wonderful feeling it was to give that back to him, something he loved doing so much but we were unable to share when I was so obese.

Since I've lost weight, we've not only been camping but also canoeing, ziplining, 4-wheeling and horseback riding in the Dominican Republic, and even simple things other people take for granted, like riding roller coasters take on special meaning for us.

The rest of our lives together is just beginning. I can't think of a better partner to take on the journey.

Here's a LINK to Rita's article on msnbc.com.

By the way, the trouble with my IUD that I talked about in my last blog has subsided for now. I spoke to my gynecologist and for now, we're taking a wait-and-see approach. Cross your fingers for me!

Ain't nothin' gonna break my stride

This past week has been challenging, health-wise. Again I must issue a disclaimer - female issue ahead!! Just sayin'.

I mentioned my surgery on Sept. 9 for the removal of a uterine cyst and insertion of an IUD, which was supposed to help my psycho-cycle. It's normal to have some breakthrough bleeding/spotting for the first few months after IUD insertion and I have definitely been experiencing that. However, a somewhat disturbing pattern is emerging.

When I exert myself physically, i.e., exercise, the bleeding is heavier. After the 5K last Sunday, the floodgates opened to the point where I ended up in the ER on Tuesday, wondering if there had been a perforation or the device had shifted or WTF was wrong with me.

I called the doc who inserted the IUD on Monday and was given an appointment for the 12th. Now listen to this: I asked his receptionist - who had previously advised me that if I had any questions to call the office - if it was normal to experience heavier bleeding after exercise like this. She said "Well, if you're seeing a pattern of bleeding after exercise then I would say that's normal."

WHAT? No...what? What the hell kind of answer is that? Ridiculous.

At the time, the bleeding was heavy but not too horrible, so I figured I'd give it a day and if it hadn't got better by Tuesday, I would call back and demand to either speak to the doctor or get an appointment that day. Lo and behold, it got worse. Much worse. So I called back on Tuesday and was told the doctor wasn't in and if the bleeding was that bad, I should go to the emergency room. Great.

The situation was such that I couldn't hide it from my co-workers or bosses. I mean, I was in the bathroom most of the day. So late afternoon, I called Erich to tell him what I was doing - I didn't see any point in him taking off work to go with me - and headed to the hospital.

I had visions of being there till the middle of the night, but I guess when I told the ER staff how much blood I was losing, they decided to get me in quickly. So in total I was only there a few hours. Nothing really happened, though. I was examined by a doctor who told me the IUD seemed to be in place. An ultrasound was ordered and I had it, but when I called my doctor - the guy who inserted it, not the ER doctor - for the results, I was told they wouldn't have them till Tuesday.

So the moral of the story is: Suck it up and get over it. I guess. Jesus.

I have an appointment Wednesday morning anyway, so whatever. At this point the bleeding has completely stopped. I have no idea what the hell happened. Several people asked me if it was my period. If it was, it was 10 days early and the heaviest, weirdest (I'll spare you the details) period I've ever had in my life. It scared the crap out of me in part because of how sudden it started, coincidentally right after the 5K and how heavy/weird it was.

I'm now in a situation where I'm a bit hesitant to exercise. If I go to the gym and push myself, will that start up another geyser of the damned? Here's the one thing I know for sure: I must exercise to maintain my weight loss and I won't allow anything to get in the way of that. Ain't nothin' gonna break my stride. So...depending on what the doctor has to say on Wednesday, I may have this thing taken out immediately.

A couple months ago, I wrote a letter to the editor of "O Magazine" and found out today they published it. A friend told me about it on Facebook. I subscribe to the magazine but haven't even had a chance to take it out of the wrapper. I ripped it open right away (LOL) and there I was! Pretty cool. The letter I wrote was in response to an article they did about makeovers for women who had lost 100 pounds or more. Two women who had weight loss surgery were featured. I was moved to express my appreciation for this as it's a rarity to see a WLS patient's success validated in the same way as a non-WLS patient. So go Oprah for that! My letter appears in the current issue (November), if you're interested in reading it.

I Run For Life

Last Sunday I participated in the CIBC Run for the Cure, which benefits the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation. My original intention was to run what I could of the 5K and walk the rest. My knees are totally shot due to a lifetime of obesity. And while losing weight has lightened the load and therefore lessened the day-to-day pain I used to endure, it certainly is still present. I can run but not an entire 5K at this point.

Well, on Saturday morning I turned around in my kitchen and nearly hit the floor like a safe. That small movement somehow twisted my right knee and I clutched my kitchen counter for dear life, saving even further injury. I started to take a tentative step and the knee said "Nuh-uh." It scared the crap out of me and OMG....so frustrating!! This happens the day before the run? I thought, "Are you kidding me? Like....are you kidding me?" I wrapped it up and tried icing it but the ice seemed to make it feel worse so I abandoned that plan quickly.

Crazily enough, the pain was worse when I was stationary; if I moved around on it - with the brace on - it didn't bother me too much. So I knew I would still be able to participate in the event but I would have to walk the entire length. I was pretty bummed about that as I was looking forward to pushing my body and seeing just how far/long I could run.

Since I only decided to participate on the previous Tuesday, imagine my shock when - by event day - I had raised a grand total of $640.00 including online and offline donations. My and Erich's co-workers, YOU my beautiful readers, our friends and family really came through and I am so touched and so proud to know all these wonderful people who chose to support both me and such a fantastic cause. My Aunt Betty would be very pleased. I've received a couple more donations since then as well. Donations can be made until October 31, so if you'd still like to give please click HERE.

It was absolutely FRIGID outside on Sunday! About 42F, 6C with a biting wind. Everyone was bundled up as best they could. I registered and signed the 'Wall of Fame' for participants then Erich and I wandered around looking at everyone's get-ups and trying to stay warm! There was a photo booth where everyone could get a free memento of the day and we listened as survivors shared their inspirational stories. I was so into these women's moving words that I forgot to take pics of them. But I got a few shots pre-startup:







I made a button with Aunt Betty's photo on it to wear. I also stuck on a couple buttons they were giving away to participants at the event. And, although you really can't see it because it's so small, I wore my small gold Centurion Club pin, the one I received from Henry Ford Hospital for losing at least 100 pounds. I pinned it up on the collar of my t-shirt.

If you look closely at the photo below on the left, you can see on my t-shirt where it says "Betty - My Aunty" on the left. I tell you, when I saw that it made me cry. Fate, right? Amazing stuff. The shirt also says "Uncle Bob" - who was Aunt Betty's husband. It also says "Cousin Lisa" - Aunt Betty's oldest daughter. She spells her name "Leesa" but wow, right? Crazy.



I was more than ready to get started, if only to get warmer! Poor Erich stood around and waited for me to finish, so by the time I was done, he was pretty much a Romanian popsicle.

Me at the starting line-up:

When we started, I teared up at bit. Me, participating in a 5K. It would've been unthinkable a couple years ago. And my dear Aunt Betty, one of the most wonderful women I've ever known. Her spirit was with me and I could feel her pride. It was moving for me.

I can honestly say I more than held my own in this walk. I was trotting right along like I always do when I exercise, the tunes on my mp3 player helping me keep up the pace. I was passing people all around me during the first leg, when we were walking on pavement. I brought a camera with me to snap a few pics along the route.



There were two routes to take: One was paved, straight and non-hilly and one was on the nature trail surrounding the campgrounds/park where the event took place. When I came to the fork I hesitated a second before choosing the nature trail. My knee was feeling fine so I decided to go for it. It was definitely more challenging, especially downhill. The knee that was not braced cursed me a few times. Plus it was more difficult to pass people on the narrow trail. And a word of advice: LEAVE THE DAMN DOGS AT HOME, PEOPLE. I am not a dog person in the first place but those dogs constantly getting in my way was really pissing me off.

Pics from the trail:


Between the rows of people blocking the narrow trail and the stupid dogs all over the place, I went a little slower than I would've liked. But I still finished in just under an hour, which everyone tells me is pretty good - average, at least. "You were going at a pretty good clip," my boss told me. He and his wife were there as she is a breast cancer survivor. They ran some of the way, he said. He is in super shape and regularly participates in long-distance biking events. He told me they finished about five to seven minutes ahead of me. And I could see there were lots and lots of people behind me.

I once yearned to be average so I should be happy about that, I guess. But next year, I'll kick average's ass.

Me crossing the finish line and afterwards:


We got the hell outta there ASAP in order to thaw my husband out. All in all it was a wonderful experience that I will definitely repeat next year.

Thanks again to everyone who took the time to give their money or words of encouragement to me. I so appreciate it, you have no idea!

The song that inspired the title of this blog:


It took me a week to get this blog out because this has been Hell Week for me. I'm still not sure why any of what happened this week occurred, but that whole thing is another blog in and of itself. I'll churn that out tomorrow since I'm off work for Thanksgiving. See you then.

Run for the Cure

I have decided to participate in this Sunday's CIBC Run for the Cure, which benefits the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation. There is a choice between a 1K and 5K run or walk; I have entered the 5K event.

I would love to say I'd run it, but my knees just won't let me do that, not for 5K...I can run then walk, run then walk, etc. That's what I do normally when I exercise. If I run too much I definitely feel it the next day...or next week. So I'll be walking. The last time Erich and I were in Ohio, we got knee braces for me (for about 80% less than we'd pay in Ontario) and I'll put them on just in case. But it's all good. I've walked a 5K many, many times in the gym. I'll finish.

For years I've sat on the sidelines, wanting to take part in something like this. My father's sister - Aunt Betty - lost her battle with breast cancer over a decade ago. I spent a lot of time with her growing up and her daughter Leesa is around my age; we were buddies as children.

Aunt Betty:

At almost 450 pounds, I was never fit enough to pay tribute to her in any physical way with a cancer walk, ride or run. But this year, I'm gonna do it. I'll do it in her memory but also for myself; a celebration of my own good health and a reminder to never take it for granted.

Terribly late in the game for fundraising, I initially thought about paying the $40 entry fee and not bothering. But then I thought HEY....I have a lot of friends out there! The goal to waive the entry fee is $150. Surely, I thought, I can get 15 of my friends to give me $10. So I went for it. And raised the $150 pretty much overnight. WOW! Well, I do have very cool friends!! So I upped the ante and raised my goal to $300. Almost there!

C'mon now, you know you wanna help me raise money for this wonderful cause! Everyone knows someone touched by this disease. Click HERE to donate to my fund. The festivities start on Sunday morning at 8:00 a.m. The walk itself starts at 10:15. Erich, bless his heart, will get up at what is for him the middle of the night, to cheer me on. I'll let you all know how it goes!

School must've been hell, right?

I am often asked, in some variation of outright or implied - and often with a sympathetic voice - "School must've been hell for you, right?" The answer to that question might seem obvious. Indeed, the people who ask me always seem to assume my formative years were spent hiding in hallways from bullies. The short answer is no, my school years weren't hell. But the long answer is a bit more complicated than that.

I've been larger than my peers all my life, ever since I came screaming into the world at over 9 pounds. "Big-boned", one might call it. Taller than even the boys till some of them caught up with me in high school and the total opposite of petite, I definitely felt out of place among my female classmates.

However, I was fairly "normal" - for my big-boned self - from kindergarten through second grade. Little boys still didn't want to hold my hand at recess, though. I just wasn't the kind of sweet, shy little girl that attracted boys. My idea of letting a boy know I liked him was to toss him across the room. Yes, I really did that in second grade. I even got paddled for it! I mean, screw the whole note-passing, "do you like me, circle yes or no" crap. Who had time for that?

I really don't know where I got this weird, loud and obnoxious personality. Both my parents are very nice people, I swear!

I started changing in third grade. My school photos show someone who looks totally, completely different from second to third grade. I blame the acquisition of glasses and the cutting of my long, blonde hair. Well, not really. I was blind as a bat and refused to let my mother brush out my curls. Steps had to be taken. Both my grandfathers died that summer; my maternal grandmother was battling leukemia. Now, I was certainly too young to understand all of this but I have a theory that I sensed great amounts of tension in the house. So maybe....just maybe...that's when I started comforting myself with food.

Then the trouble started.

There was a girl who rode my school bus who started giving me grief. Now, she was also no string bean but this didn't seem to deter her from attempting to make my life miserable. My older brother cold-cocked her in the head with his metal lunchbox one day, defending me. There was also another older girl who lived near my maternal grandmother and delighted in riding her bike up and down the road, shouting insults at me. Again, my older brother came to my defense. He shot her in the ass with a bb gun as she rode away one day. Yes, he really did.

Even though there were occasional problems with idiots like these, overall I was doing fine socially. I always had lots of friends - I had a few very close ones but honestly, there were people I called "friend" from every social strata at the school. I was not a "prep" (a.k.a. the rich kids, cheerleaders, jocks). I was not a "hood" (which is what we called those who liked to wear black, listen to metal and party). But I got along with everyone. My little group of friends called ourselves the "in-betweens". While we watched the many Molly Ringwald movies of the time and identified with a lot of the teen angst bullshit in them, the whole "us vs. them" theme didn't affect us very much. I would say the experience was different for those who wore the other two social labels, though.

It helps to understand that I grew up in a very rural area where everyone knows everyone's family several generations back. The same faces stare out from my kindergarten and high school graduation class pictures, just 13 years older. We all always knew each other and they always knew me to look the way I did. It's just the way it was.

But every now and then, someone would come along and seemingly try to make me feel like shit. It was always someone who didn't know me very well. There was a duo of guys in 6th grade who were suddenly in my class and man....that was a tough year. They were relentless. Ever since third grade, I just kept getting taller and bigger. By age 12, as I've mentioned before, I was at least 5'6" and 200 pounds. I looked like no one else at my school, not to mention Mrs. Rice's 6th grade class. It was like these two boys wanted to bring me down to size.

In science class one day, the teacher had something he wanted to show us but wanted us to guess what it was (I have no memory of what it actually was). Our desks were arranged in a circle, so we could all see each other. Kids were shouting out guesses. I said "I know! I know!" and one of those two boys said in response to my enthusiasm, LOUDLY, "Cindy, it's not food." I dropped my head in shame. The outcry from my other classmates was fast and furious. Their immediate response was to scowl at him in disgust and, well, they kinda boooed him! I think he was shocked...he had expected them to laugh with him. One girl - one of the cool kids - said "Don't you say that! You don't know her! That is so mean!" I will never forget that she did that for me. She was and is such a kind person that it was automatic for her. The teacher, to his credit, let the other kids take up for me for a minute then he demanded an apology from the boy, who reluctantly gave it.

It didn't stop him or his buddy though. Like I said, that was a bad year and didn't end until I didn't have to deal with them every day because we were all shipped off to the junior high school. We would be merging with the other local elementary school. I was nervous about how these other kids would react to me, for sure. But it was ok. Junior high was pretty much like elementary school - I made friends and it was fine with the occasional asshole thrown in. High school was the same.

Notice I haven't spoken much about boys. That's because there's not a lot to talk about till my senior year in high school. I met the boy who would become my first husband and finally got to experience normal, teenage, high-school life. We went on dates. We went to dances. We swapped class rings - most girls wound yarn around their boyfriends' rings in order to shrink them enough to wear on their fingers. My boyfriend's class ring fit my size-nine finger perfectly but oh well. He was two years younger than me so I ended up going to a few proms, too. Normal high school stuff.

Boys were my friends. I've always gotten along well with guys. I laugh at the same things they laugh at, I "get" them in a lot of ways. Always have. So I was definitely one of those girls the guys thought of as one of their own (and still am) - not girlfriend material. Did I have a few dates here and there? Yes, but not the normal high-school girl experience until I was almost done with high school.

But school was not day-to-day hell. No hiding in the bathroom waiting for the bullies to leave. My large network of friends was something I could always cling to when the occasional freak came out wanting to hurt me. They didn't stand a chance. I knew the people who liked me vastly outnumbered the people who didn't. Obviously I took some of what the freaks had to say to heart. Words hurt a lot more than clenched fists and weave themselves into the fabric of who you are, no matter what.

I had more problems with strangers on the street than kids I encountered every day. I guess I never realized how lucky I was - or at least, how much worse it could've been - until I lost all this weight and people started asking me about school and how it must've been so rough for me! Honestly - yes, I was the fat girl in school. Always. But it's just who I was. And most of the people I saw every day didn't give me shit about it. To them, I was just "Cindy". I might've been the fat girl but I was also funny, smart and kind. Luckily for me, for most kids I grew up with, that was good enough.

Music saves the soul

Music has been saving me lately, that's for sure!

A couple of weeks ago, I went on a girls' road trip to Sharon, PA with my friend Paris to meet up with yet more friends to see Kris Bell. We all got to know Kris when he played in Bo Bice's band. It has been 4-1/2 years since I've seen Kris so I was pretty psyched. I think he'd seen new pictures of me on Facebook because he wasn't too surprised by my transformation. He just looked at me and said "This is crazy! Crazy!" before giving me a hug. I do have to admit the best part about that hug was that his arms went all the way around me. Yep, I'll say it.

I was also able to get one of his t-shirts at the merch table. I'm telling you, I'm a t-shirt-buying fool. I can't get enough of them! I realized the other day I need more hangers. I probably don't, I just need to stop buying t-shirts!

The Kris concert was pretty amazing. It was so great to be at a real, genuine ROCK show and we all danced our asses off. Not since high school have I busted a move like that. Seriously! Actually, I stopped dancing in high school when some guys from a neighboring school laughed and pointed at me. I would get out there occasionally - and slow dancing was always ok - but those boys probably have no idea what affect their ridicule had on me. And I shouldn't have let it get to me like that, but I'm only human. No one wants to risk humiliation.

But in Sharon, I wasn't worried at all about being humiliated. And it was a BLAST. I needed that weekend. It's very possible I will be driving to Nashville for more of that in the near future. Or at least as far as Cincinnati...right Laura? ;)

I had surgery on the 9th to remove the uterine cyst and insert the IUD. It went well - they kept moving it up and I ended up in the OR about 3 hours ahead of schedule. In the course of answering routine questions, I had to tell the attending nurse about my gastric bypass and she insisted on seeing a "before" pic! She was too funny. My wonderful husband keeps our wedding picture in his wallet, so we showed her that. She couldn't believe it. Also, since all I was wearing was that dreaded hospital gown, the OR staff saw my back tattoo and asked about it. It's always nice to have people oooh and ahhh over your success. It reminds you that you have truly accomplished something noteworthy; don't ever forget your own awesomeness.

I felt really good over the weekend, enough to keep a date with Keith Urban and my good friend Randi, who, although doesn't like country music, I think it's safe to say is now a KU convert. Heh. It's like a Bo show; it only takes one time and you go "WTF WAS THAT??" You want more and more and more. So I didn't sit down for 2+ hours. Danced, sang, clapped. Sooooo much fun. Got my first KU t-shirt, too! Probably not such a good idea for a girl who had surgery three days beforehand, though.

Kris Bell says "music saves the soul" and he's right. Bo says "live music matters". Also right. There are few things in life that can make you feel better than music, especially when it's live, right there in front of you so you can FEEL it.

Maybe I pushed it too far Monday. I haven't felt the greatest since then. Tuesday, Erich and I ended up in the ER because he got a large capsule stuck in his throat. I know how horrible that sounds, but he's ok now - through absolutely no help provided by medical staff at the hospital. Ridiculous, long story but we spent 9 hours sitting there and 3 more hours waiting for an ear, nose and throat specialist. So I got no sleep, which didn't help my own health condition. I got some rest Wednesday but still need more to be "normal".

Tomorrow morning I will attend part two of a three-part workshop called Craving Change. Craving Change is a "How-to Guide for Changing Your Relationship with Food." Lord knows most of us need that, right? I'm taking the workshop because I feel like I need to be more in touch with WHY I want to eat the way I do. Since I can't afford therapy, this seems to be the next best thing. There are already some interesting patterns/triggers coming to light for me and I'll do a more extensive blog on that later.

The Big Sexy Blog

Last night was the second episode in the new series "Big Sexy" on TLC. Now, when I hear the phrase "Big Sexy", the first thing that comes to my mind is pro wrestler Kevin Nash.

Yeah. *dreamy sigh*

But the television show is pretty damn cool, too. I was skeptical when I first heard about it, I admit. How would this show present overweight women? The clown? The slut? The victim? Well, I was pleasantly surprised that none of those stereotypes are present in the main characters on this "reality" show. They are normal women who just happen to be overweight. But they have to navigate their way in the world carrying around extra pounds - which makes for special circumstances worthy of its own series.



Dating, pleasing your parents, finding the perfect outfit, girls' nights out - these are all covered in the first two episodes. But I want to focus on dating.

My fear for the main focus of the show came to light when the girls visited a BBW (Big Beautiful Woman) party in the series premiere. Cringing in horror at the Thunder Thighs Contest and a troubling array of unattractive/weird chubby chasers, one of the girls, Lesley, said "These are my options?? That can't be right."

Amen. I was glad to see the girls in the Thunder Thighs Contest portrayed as the oddballs of the fat-chick world. Most of us don't want to go there.

So they tried speed dating with the "normal" crowd, wherein a man admitted that the only way he'd sleep with an overweight woman was if he was drunk. Again... "these are my options?? That can't be right."

Heavy girls are in a dating no-woman's land: We don't want to be anyone's fetish yet most "normal" guys need to get trashed in order to bear our presence. Is it any wonder our self-esteem takes a hit?

A lot of heavy women (and men) settle. Which is one reason why there's an 80% failure rate for relationships within two years of bariatric surgery. What was once good enough doesn't feel quite so special anymore.

After my divorce, a very good friend of mine told me she was worried that I, at over 400 pounds, would settle; she told me I didn't have to, that I needed to look for a man worthy of me. I took what she said to heart and luckily stumbled upon a wonderful man who was neither a chubby chaser nor did he require a case of beer to be with me. He loved me for me. So trust me, good, normal guys do exist.

Now that's not to say I didn't date my share of losers in that gray area between husbands. The internet dating scene was just taking off, and I made full use of it. I was always very upfront about my size so therefore, I did attract some of the aforementioned chubby chasers. I went out with a couple of the less weird ones and I have to say it was wonderful to look at a man and see complete lust in his eyes. Every woman wants to feel beautiful and desired - that's a rarity if you're plus-sized. It was an ego boost that led me to Erich....I was very bold with him and surprised myself with both my nerve and his favorable response to it.

Confidence breeds results, ladies.

So in response to Lesley - yes, there are other options. And nope, you don't have to settle. I never did! Both my husbands married me when I was very, very overweight.

Now that I've lost weight, I certainly feel male eyes on me that weren't there before. It's a bit weird, a bit scary and yes, flattering. I'm just glad I don't have to navigate that particular minefield anymore!

I'm going under the knife tomorrow to remove the uterine cyst I talked about in my last blog. The doctor will also insert an IUD - both of these things together will hopefully bring some relief to the psycho cycle. Wish me luck.

Weren't you here a few years ago?

Warning: Female blog ahead. Just an FYI to my male readers!

Maybe you remember me talking about a gynecologist who was very rude to me a few years ago. I have persistent issues with my psycho-cycle and my family doctor referred me to him for a regular pap smear. She usually does that in her office, but opted to send me to a specialist because of my size. In Canada, a gynecologist is considered a "specialist" and you must have a referral from your regular doctor.

When I saw him before, he did the test and had me wait in his office. He then came in and lectured me for at least five minutes on why he would not be able to help me and basically, I needed to either lose weight or suck it up. When I tried to explain to him that I was considering gastric bypass - and would possibly lose some weight - he rudely interrupted me before I could get my sentence out. When discussing treatment options (and why they wouldn't work for me), including surgery, he gestured to my stomach and said "What am I supposed to do with that?"

Then he gave me a prescription which did help my severe cramps somewhat. Why he decided to humiliate me first and not just go right to the treatment is beyond me. The whole experience upset me so much that I sat in his parking lot in my car and cried for a while before getting it together enough to head back to work.

So you can imagine how I felt when, after tests revealed I have a uterine cyst, my family doctor again referred me to the same guy. Now, I was tempted to demand another doctor but I stopped myself....no. I wanted to go back and see how he treated me now that I've lost 250 pounds. A little social experiment.

I spoke with friends about this doctor and everyone seemed to love him. They were shocked to learn the way he had treated me. Said it didn't sound like him. All these women were thin, I might add.

I had my appointment recently. This time I went straight into his office. There wasn't any need for an exam as I was simply being referred to him for surgery to remove the cyst.

He was affable, charming. Smiled broadly at me and explained everything in great detail with patience. He does have a sarcastic wit, but that's fine. So do I! In short, it was a different visit. Near the end, he was looking through my file and said:

"You were here a few years ago, yes?"

I nod at him. "Yes."

*shuffling paperwork* "You...you've lost quite a bit of weight, haven't you?"

Picture me trying to stifle a grin. "Yes."

"How much?"

Pause. "250 pounds."

He shook his head and said, "Wow! That's fantastic! Amazing!"

"Thank you." I think I actually crossed my arms in front of me at this point and smiled with satisfaction. LOL!

Then he launched into a bunch of questions about where I had it done, what my life is like now, do I still take any prescription medication, etc., etc. He told me he was very happy for me and "You see things like this on tv, but wow, here it is! Amazing."

Mm-hm.

Did I mention that the surgery I'm scheduled for is not invasive? They will go right in through the vagina, no cutting required. So his whole argument of "what am I supposed to do with that"? goes right out the fucking window. I'm just sayin'.

My family doctor told me I had "mild" endometriosis, but he wasn't prepared to make that diagnosis. Basically, he said, you can't say for sure that someone has endometriosis without removing the uterus to examine it. Diagnostic tests are not advanced enough to be so definitive. Which makes me think if MEN had to put up with psycho-cycles, I bet science would have a cure for the shit by now, let alone have proper testing in place. But I digress. So to treat said psycho-cycle, he will insert an IUD at the time of the surgery. Since I've never had kids my uterus is very small (HEY! at least something is!) and insertion will be painful if it's done in an office visit, which is the norm. So since I'll be knocked out for the cyst removal anyway, he'll do it then.

Now listen. I don't know for sure why none of this stuff was addressed till I lost weight. Perhaps testing was more difficult on a 450-pound woman. I totally get that. But honestly....couldn't something have been done to ease the suffering I have to endure every month?? Obviously, my weight was not the issue since the problem is still there now that I'm thinner. So...what? If you're fat, too damn bad? That's not acceptable. It's especially not acceptable to make obese patients feel like their ailments are entirely their own fault when it's not necessarily true. Doctors are supposed to help ALL patients. A doctor throwing up his or her hands because it's more difficult to diagnose or treat an obese patient is shameful.

Surgery date is September 9. Here's hoping I get some relief.