Gastric Bypass Barbie

My Emotional Garage (and a bunch of bariatric boxes)

I don’t know about you, but our garage is the picture of semi-organized chaos. Now, this is no swipe at MexiKen, because he does the best can to keep a crap load of…well, crap arranged (after a fashion) in a mere 400 square feet of space. In all honestly, I rarely set foot in the garage, mostly because there isn’t much room to move around, but also because I’m afraid of what I’ll find…or what will find me!

Remember that I Love Lucy episode where they moved to the country, but had to store all of their junk in the Mertz’s apartment until the house became available? Yeah, that’s our garage, except that we have a small pathway that leads to the extra refrigerator (where I store all of my Protein Blitzs, Propel Waters and Labrada Lean Body RTDs).

The point is, our garage is filled with a ton of stuff. There’s stuff I’ve forgotten we had, stuff I never KNEW we had, stuff that isn’t ours, and stuff that has clearly begun to generate its OWN stuff. I have no idea where things are or why they are even there. Except for the beach chairs, the bikes, the ice chests, boxes of Christmas decorations (MexiKen is Mr. Christmas, trust me) and these little display cabinets where he keeps his miniature car and airplane collection “for his future grandson.”

That’s about all I know.

Don’t ask me where my wedding dress is (I don’t wanna talk about it), or where my high school memory boxes went. Don’t ask me who owns the jumbo Rubbermaid storage bins, those two mattresses, the futon, the ugly end tables, or the lamps without lamp shades. And DON’T ask me what’s up in the overhead rafters. I don’t WANT to know.

My point is, I couldn’t tell you about everything in my garage if my life depended upon it, which is unfortunate, because the state of my garage is really metaphoric to my emotional self in the Bariatric After Life™.

Hmmmm….You didn’t see that coming, did you?

Let me explain.

This morning, I had one of those “D’oh!” moments, where I realized that I was doing something seemingly innocuous, but which was most likely responsible for some nagging pounds I’ve been trying to shed.

Before I tell you what I was doing, let me paint a picture of how my emotional self (garage) looks.

Since I was born, I’ve been shoving stuff into my emotional garage. In the beginning, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t putting things in there in any sort of logical way, but over time (probably as space began to run out), I took greater care in how I jammed stuff in. Think “Tetris” and you’re getting close. I’d see an opening that “looked” like a perfect fit for an emotion, and cram it in, not caring what I was burying in the process. I mean, maybe I “needed” something that I’d carelessly relegated to the bottom layer. In the back. Maybe I “needed” to combine that thing just out of reach with the new thing I was bringing in. Maybe I needed to get rid of some of the junk that was accumulating. But, who would ever KNOW? Maybe OTHER PEOPLE were cramming stuff into my emotional garage without my knowledge. Maybe those people were also TAKING stuff out of my emotional garage (when I wasn’t even having a yard sale!)

The point is, much like the garage in my house, my emotional garage is packed to the gills with heaven-knows-what, and even though I have been cleaning and cleaning and cleaning, there’s still stuff I haven’t reached yet (and aren’t aware of). On the one hand, I have tossed out a TON of emotional garbage; on the other, I’ve unearthed emotional garbage, but set it aside when I wasn’t ready to decide whether to keep it or pitch it.

Of course, just when I feel like my emotional garage is in order, I turn around and look in the driveway, where I see all of that stuff I took out, but haven’t dealt with yet. (Okay, if this sounds a bit like something that actually happened with my physical garage, it is. We actually ended up with stuff for 4 other people in our garage, because they died and there was no place to put everything.) Ahhh, that brings up an interesting point: Why were we willing to take on OTHER people’s stuff, without really considering how it would impact our EXISTING stuff? Was it because we felt we HAD to? The plot thickens. Fortunately, we have successfully divested ourselves of a healthy 75% of the stuff, but we still have plenty more to contend with. And, SOON!

But, I digress (as usual). Back to my emotional garage.

While I’ve been cleaning my garage, I’ve gotten a tad lazy in my decision making about what I’m going to keep and what I’m going to pitch. One of the things I’ve “thrown away” (at LEAST 10 times) in the past three years is: COFFEE. Now, I realize that coffee is not everyone’s enemy, but I happen to know, it is not MY friend. That being the case, I continue to welcome it in with open arms, encouraging it to stay as long as it wants — while storing everything that comes with it in my emotional garage. That includes stuff like dry creamer, Splenda and now, protein. (Because, of course, I got tired of Coffee’s company and thought I could make it healthier by dumping in protein.) Apparently, in my mind, protein cures all evils.

Okay, time for the “D’oh!” moment.

A few months ago, I fully recognized what I was doing to myself, every time I carelessly tossed in more partially-hydrogenated-corn-syrup solids and artifical-chemical-laden-sweetening agents. Not only was I adding unnecessary calories, I was ratcheting up my threshold for “sweetness,” while pouring caffeine into my body (instead of water.) Yes, I even tried to justify it as a liquid. So, I stopped drinking it.

That lasted for a week.

And then, I got a bunch of RTD protein that I wasn’t crazy about drinking, but needed to use. So, as I often do, I deluded myself into believing that I could throw two rocks at one bird, making the coffee “healthy,” while not “wasting” the sorta-yucky-by-itself RTD. Sounds reasonable, right? How smart of me!

So, I was off to the races.

• Hey, I can knock back 40 GRAMS OF PROTEIN before I even leave the house each morning!
• Hey! I can add at least 20 GRAMS OF PROTEIN when my energy is flagging in the afternoon!
• Hey! I didn’t factor this into everything else I was already consuming every day.

Uh-oh.

So, I was gleefully (and willingly) ADDING about 60 (at least!) grams of protein to my daily consumption — and NOT allowing for the CALORIES THAT ACCOMPANIED those protein grams.

Here’s where the lightbulb hit me square in the noggin this morning:

I HAVE BEEN CONSUMING ABOUT 500 EXTRA CALORIES A DAY WITH PROTEIN COFFEE.

How does that sound, people? Does that sound like someone who is in this maintenance game for the long run? Does this sound like someone who was killing herself on the elliptical each morning, JUST so she could keep pace with the extra (wasted) calories coming in each day? What about the mornings I DIDN’T work out? Huh? How do I explain THAT?

Well…it *does* explain the pesky pounds….I have been feeding them a steady diet of proteinated-coffee-in-the-name-of-thriftiness-and-resourcefulness.

And WHY was I doing this? Because I decided to shove that particular behavior back into my emotional garage, without any regard for what was already in there.

Fortunately, it’s never too late to fix a problem like this, so this morning, the very instant I put 2-and-500 together, I realized that I didn’t NEED my (usual-every-day) protein shake (and the 300 calories that went with it), because I’d already CONSUMED about 400 calories before 9 AM.

That was the first step.

The second step was to eliminate the reduced fat cheese from my mid-morning snack of black beans. The third step (as I sit here drinking a NON-proteinated-mug-o-coffee), is to NOT drink another cup of this stuff (with or without protein) later today.

You know what? Progress doesn’t always happen in gigantic forward motions. Sometimes, you have to take a few steps back — you know, step outside of the garage — so you can see what you’re really dealing with.

Life is not limited to the boxes in one small corner; it is the totality of everything you’ve stored up (whether you KNOW it’s there, or not).

I can tell you this: Tomorrow morning, I will NOT be adding protein to my ONE cup of coffee, and I WILL add Almond Breeze, instead of dry creamer.

I am going to continuing cleaning (and clearing) my emotional garage – but, I’m gonna be a LOT more stringent on what I’m willing to put back inside!!!

What does your emotional garage look like? Are you ready for a mental yard sale?

My Life as a “Before”

I get lots of requests for “before” pictures. Just about every day, someone will say, “You look great now, but what did you look like before?” And you know what? I am hard pressed to show them, save for a few really horrible shots. I’m sure there are more floating around out there…somewhere…if I didn’t burn them or tear them into a million pieces at the time. I just don’t know WHERE they are. This is a very sad reality for me because, today as I look back over the course of the past 2-1/2 years (exactly), I realize how hard it is to prove I even existed for all of those years before December 10, 2007.

The “after” me chides the “before” me for not taking at least ONE freaking “official” before picture the night before surgery. But the “before” me responds that she was too afraid of failing.

Again.

She was terrified that the “final official before” picture would turn out to be proof of yet another failure.

Those are really hard words to write, but they are true.

Even after shedding those 50 pounds before surgery — even then — I still believed I might fail at “surgery.” I was still mortified by what the camera saw; still in denial and disbelief at the person staring back at me from a puffy face with eyes buried beneath chubby cheeks, and a mouth hovering above a triple chin.

As much of an optimist as I am today, I must tell you that, even in the final moments before surgery, though I never let on, I was terrified it would be a wasted effort. I could never really see myself as an “after,” so why would I need a “before”?

I guess the reason I’m writing this is because I want to stress a few things:

1) If you have not yet had your surgery — TAKE A BEFORE PICTURE. Take lots of them. From all angles. Yes, even from the rear view. Be sure to smile — not because you are happy about the way you look, but because you are excited about the person you will become. If you have already had surgery, but are early in the process, take a ton MORE pictures. You’ll need them to prove your success to yourself. Trust me.

2) Be gentle with yourself; you’re the only “you” you’ve got.

3) If you have had your surgery, but have not yet gotten to the point where you love what you see in the mirror (or in the camera’s lens), forgive yourself for all that happened before and believe in all of the good things to come.

4) If you have reached your “happily ever after,” and are so darned smitten with yourself that you can’t even pass a security camera without smiling, waving and looking for the monitor, celebrate the gift of this surgery, but never forget where you came from.

5) Remember your “before” self, but love the “after” self enough to never go back.

Today, 2-1/2 years after bariatric surgery changed my life, I am thankful for good health, great joy, tremendous love and amazing beauty. I suppose I don’t need a lot of “before” pictures to remember the dark years, so I’ll stop beating myself up and just enjoy the very happiest Bariatric After Life™ possible.

I hope you will do the same.

Fantasizing, Romanticizing, Giganticizing

Last night, I climbed into bed and my brain immediately switched into “overdrive.” Now, I realize that this is not a good place to be when I should be sleeping, but, next to the shower, it is where I do some of my very best thinking.

So, here’s where this posting all began: The word “romanticizing” popped into my head, because this is what I have been guilt of doing lately. You see, I have been wrestling with a few extra pounds (a reality which does not make me happy, but does give me something to work on!) Anyway, the more I thought about those pounds, the more i realized that there are a host of “IZING” words that could quickly consume and overwhelm my successful Bariatric After Life™– if I let them.

Let me explain:

As a pre- and early post-op, I would spend my days FANTASIZING about what I would look like when I lost the weight. I spent a bunch of time poring over “Before and Afters,” marveling at the monumental differences people experienced; wondering if I would ever reach that same goal, and if I did, what I would look like. Essentially, I was living in fantasyland every free moment I had.

Don’t get me wrong, fantasizing is not a bad thing, as long as it is based in some sort of reality, and involves a solid plan for achieving it. I think i was pretty realistic in my planning, because my original goal was very generous and, ultimately, more-than achievable.

Well, as a post-op, I blew past my original goal, to the tune of about 40 pounds, and found myself in a scrawny, skinny, meatless body with jutting bones, sunken eyes and cheeks. At the time, I KNEW that I was too thin and KNEW that my body would rebound to a healthier weight. But, somewhere inside, I was having this battle between what I KNEW was healthy, and what I actually LOOKED like.

As I remove my rose-tinted glasses and look back at myself with honest eyes, I can assure you that MexiKen did not love the way my little body looked — I had lost all of my curves, had no butt, and couldn’t fit grown-up people clothes. I looked silly in my baggy things and was constantly lamenting that I couldn’t wear some of the pretty clothes I was finding on the racks. Size 4’s weren’t just too big – they LITERALLY slid down to my ankles. It really was not pretty.

But, over time, I regained a little weight, those size 4’s began to fit properly, and I started “filling out.” Eventually, I settled in at a comfortable size 6 — a good place for my 5′8″ frame. I had a little butt and a few curves and no one complained that I was too skinny (or too fat). I looked healthy and felt great. Except that I kept going and overshot my “ideal” by about 8-10 pounds. Now, this is unacceptable, because I find myself outside of my new comfort zone, where things don’t quite fit as comfortably anymore.

It occurs to me, that what I have been doing is ROMANTICIZING my previous underweight status. I have been whispering sweet nothings into my brain, convincing myself that being a size 2 was wonderful, because nothing was ever tight or binding, and whatever I tried on always fit. Of course, I know this is NOT true, but this is how romanticizing works. You forget the realities, hardships, disappointments and struggles, and recast them as happy, glowing, glorious times.

Fortunately, I have not allowed myself to marinate in that kind of stinking thinking, because it is not only counterproductive — it is a LIE.

But, where do I go if I can’t romanticize or fantasize? Well, if you’re unhealthy, and fighting a few extra pounds, you can quickly begin to GIGANTICIZE. This is what happens when you start to tell yourself that you are a “big, fat loser.” You begin to exaggerate the reality of your body and what the scale is reporting, and start obsessing over weight regain. When giganticizing happens, you panic and your fat head runs the show. After all, you gained 5 or 10 pounds and now you are GIGANTIC.

Clearly, you can see the downside of this thinking, because it is neither productive nor empowering.

But, if you aren’t careful, giganticizing quickly turns to MINIMIZING. As in, “I *only* have 5 or 10 extra pounds. I’ve lost 150 or 160, and I’m fine with this weight regain. It’s not a big deal, and I’m sure I can lose it, if I want to.” In other words, you can quickly MINIMIZE the scope of the problem by using old criteria as your gage. “I used to weigh 316 pounds; I’m nowhere NEAR that now, so why is this a problem?”

Well, that brings me to the 4th “izing” word: RATIONALIZING. If you allow yourself to move into rationalizing, you are on a slippery slope to inevitable weight regain. Why? Because rationalizing goes hand-in-hand with apathy and denial. When you rationalize, you are actually telling yourself RATIONAL LIES.

So, what is the solution to this destructive “izing“?

Here are 5 little steps to replace BAD “izing” words with GOOD “izing” words!

Step 1: RECOGNIZE
Realize that you have a problem; that things aren’t going the way you want them to go, and you need to DO something before it is too late.

Step 2: VISUALIZE
Make some decisions about your recovery. What do you WANT the rest of your life to look like? What do you feel is a good and realistic weight for you to maintain? How will your body look and feel? Formulate that vision, then make that your goal.

STEP 3: LEGITIMIZE
Is your vision reasonable, achievable, and maintainable? Is it LEGITIMATE? If it is, then cement that vision in your mind; make it tangible, real and worthy and don’t let ANYONE or anything distract you from accomplishing it. Make it your driving force.

STEP 4: EMPHASIZE
Opposite of minimizing, in this step, you begin EMPHASIZING the legitimate vision you have created for yourself. You must make it a priority. Here, you are saying, “This is my goal and I will accept no less. All of my thoughts and actions must reinforce this vision to ensure it becomes and remains my reality.”

STEP 5: EXERCISE
No, I don’t just mean going to the gym or taking regular walks (although that is a part of it.) There’s more to this step than that. Here, you must EXERCISE good choices, healthy lifestyle habits, and positive thinking, in order to achieve and maintain your vision. This step is the most important of ALL of the steps, because it involves both mental AND physical exercise. It is a DOING word that involves meaningful and positive ACTIONS.

Do you find yourself “izing“? Perhaps you are guilty of Catastrophizing (a word I didn’t use above, but might be true?) — Perhaps you are blowing your situation so far out of proportion, you feel that you have no hope.

Well, there is ALWAYS HOPE — I know this, because I am a living, breathing, walking miracle, and people who are given the gift of a second chance at life have no right to be HOPELESS.

Here’s the bottom line: You can choose to FANTASIZE, ROMANTICIZE, GIGANTICIZE, MINIMIZE and RATIONALIZE until you find yourself regaining weight and losing control, OR, you can follow the 5 easy steps, and REGAIN CONTROL of your Bariatric After Life™.

Start MAXIMIZING your potential. Don’t MARGINALIZE your healthy life. Get started, get focused, and take charge of what matters most.

I know I DID.

My Miracle in Palm Desert

Last weekend, MexiKen and I were given the wonderful opportunity to stay in Palm Desert at our friends’ exquisite country club condo. Now, I must tell you that we have (for some unknown reason) NEVER been to Palm Desert or Palm Springs. I have no idea why, considering how (relatively) close it is, I mean, we have camped in Anza Borrego, Joshua Tree and Mojave on several occasions, so we are not unfamiliar with the desert…but *this* desert was different for a number of very key reasons.

1. We didn’t take the motorhome.
2. We didn’t go during the early spring or early fall (so it was actually HOT).
3. I wore perfectly normal and appropriate clothing.

Wait, what’s that last item? I wore perfectly normal and appropriate clothing?

Hmmm…that doesn’t seem like a big deal, does it?

Well…in my case, it was the source of unspeakable joy for an entire 48-hours. I’m not sure if you can identify with this, but I’ll explain why this was such a major occurrence, and maybe you’ll understand a little better.

In my “before” life — and that includes everything from my childhood, all the way through my young adult and obese life — I was NEVER happy with the myself or my body. In fact, I was so unhappy with how I looked, that I built a prison for myself that only got smaller and smaller as I got bigger and bigger.

When I was younger, I hated my “thunder thighs.” This meant that I was horribly uncomfortable in a bathing suit, and didn’t like wearing shorts because they would “ride up” when I walked. Other girls (whose thighs didn’t rub together like mine) had no problem keeping their shorts where they belonged, but mine were forever getting swallowed up by the friction.

And, did I mention my big butt? Yeah, I had one of those, too, so the waist was always too big on everything that fit around my hips. And then there was the matter of my kankles — drat, my German heritage; I was “blessed” with tree trunks, instead of ankles; I always said that my thighs dropped directly to my feet without tapering along the way.

And I hated my calves because there was zero definition — no matter how hard I worked them out — no muscles. Boots and socks did NOT fit over them, and there was nothing I could do to hide them. Oh, except wear long pants. No WAY could I wear clam diggers or capris; that would just be wrong.

And sleeveless or strapless things? Tops without bras? Tube tops? No freaking way. I hated my arms and despised hanging them out. I couldn’t wear puffy sleeved tops because the sleeves didn’t “puff” — IF they fit over my upper arms. My mom was forever adding buttons to cuffed blouses, letting them out, or adding new, longer elastic to things.

The fatter I got, the worse it became, until eventually, my uniform was black drawstring pants and a three-quarter sleeve top (stretchy, please). When my feet didn’t hurt, I could wear cute sandals and toe rings, but that was the extent of my fashion statement. I refused to wear dresses without panty hose — even summer dresses (okay, that’s still a problem for me, but never mind that), and I was just generally hot and miserable all the time.

And cute little jammies? You know, the kind with spaghetti straps? Silky, sexy things? Nothing doing. My chest was nowhere NEAR where it was supposed to be, the “girls” pointed down (watching where we’d “been” instead of “where we were going”) and they required me to hang my arms out. Hugely unsexy and unflattering in my book. So, I wore really attractive granny nighties with long enough “flutter sleeves” to cover my flab.

Am I painting a clear picture for you?

• I didn’t wear shorts, capris, tank tops, bathing suits, or sexy, cool jammies. Ever.
• I would rather have suffocated than let my ghastly flab hang out for all the world to see.

Well…this trip was different. This time, I had it all.

I wore a bathing suit to the public pool. Strode there (purposefully, and without a cover-up to hide my body). I got in the pool and swam around (even though there were — GASP! — *people there!*)

I wore cute Docker capris and a spaghetti strap tank to the Aerial Tram and no one looked at me like I was from another planet, because they were all dressed the SAME WAY.

I brought lovely little silk jammies to relax at night, and didn’t worry that MexiKen would think I looked like a bloated whale (or worse — GRAMMA!)

You know…my body is far from perfect now. It is shrinkly, and my legs droop, and my belly hangs…but I’ve been to hell and back, and I KNOW what hell looks like. Trust me, this is HEAVEN — in all its droopy glory. I will never begrudge myself joy and comfort again; this far too glorious to forsake!

Funny thing is, for all of my disbelief and abject joy, I don’t think MexiKen really understood the gravity of the occasion. I kept marveling about it in awestruck wonder; and he just said, “Oh, that’s nice, babe…” I don’t think he’s insensitive or wrong; I just think it’s all normal to him. He is “USED” to me now, even though I’m still getting acquainted with myself. For me, situations like these are STILL watershed moments; milestones that mark amazing points in my Bariatric After Life™.

I know there are many women who will not understand why I spent so many years punishing and tormenting myself, and maybe I never will either. All I know is, I don’t do it anymore, and I am loving every minute of my newfound freedom.

Bariatric surgery truly IS the gift that keeps on giving; it’s the miracle that knows no limits; it’s the liberator from a lifetime of self-imposed imprisonment.

When I say that I had the trip of lifetime this past weekend…I’m not exaggerating.

LIFE. IS. GOOD.

WARNING: The following is one, messy post. But then, if you have seen inside my brain lately, you will know that it is an incredibly disorganized place, so this should come as no surprise.

Therapy is Not Pretty

Ahem: I am compulsive. I am also addictive and impulsive and impatient.

What a freaking mess.

There. I’ve said it, but who cares? Is that really a revelation? Well, it IS when you consider how challenging these traits can make it to live a “normal” life — especially when your “normal” life isn’t normal at all — at least not in the conventional sense of the word.

You see, as a bariatric patient, I have come to realize that I can never BE normal, because what I always interpreted to be “normal” got me into a world of hurt for a lot of years. Clearly, I had a warped definition of normalcy, because if I had truly understood it, I doubt that I’d have become morbidly obese in the first place — but, who knows? (Elvis has left the building on that one.)

Now, when you are compulsive, addictive, impulsive and impatient, it’s very easy to fall prey to insidious negative practices in the Bariatric After Life™…things like binge-eating or under- eating – both of which I am really *good* at – can quickly become as regular a part of your life as OVER-eating.

This is extremely scary stuff, but the truth is, my traits are extreme. There is nothing moderate, middle-of-the-road, or neutral about them (so how could I expect average or benign results?) It is true that I have always been a pedal-to-the-metal, no-holds-barred, all-or-nothing, go-big-or-go-home kinda gal…and unfortunately, in the past, this “flat out attitude” has gotten me in to a heap of trouble. (How about 316 pounds of trouble?)

So, the way I see it, if I’m ever gonna get a grip on my life, I have two options:

1. ELIMINATE the traits (not likely to happen any time soon), or
2. CHANGE the way I respond to those traits. (Way more likely, but way harder to accomplish!)

Now, there is no way I can justify these (questionable?) character traits, or elevate them to some lofty purpose — but, having said that…it doesn’t necessarily mean that being obsessive/compulsive/impulsive and impatient needs to be an entirely BAD thing. Right? I mean, can’t some modicum of goodness be found? Hasn’t SOME benefit come out of these tendencies over the course of my lifetime? Ever the optimist, I will say: YES and focus on the POSITIVE influence as opposed to the NEGATIVE one.

Here’s what I’m saying: If I cannot SLAY the beast, I will TAME the beast. I must make that fire-breathing dragon build me a fire, rather than burn down my house.

How do I plan on doing that? In the coming weeks, I intend to do a lot of self-analysis to see exactly HOW my character traits manifest themselves in unhealthy ways. Once I know that, I will see if I can adjust my behavior so I don’t impatiently act on every impulse, addiction or compulsion. I liken it to leaving at least 3 things left nsaid each day, or removing one piece of jewelry before you leave the house (LOL).

This is a work in progress, and I need to crawl inside the belly of the beast. (ice) Some days, I know I’m going to say and do things I’ll wish I hadn’t, (and promptly get chewed up and spit out in the process), but other days, I’ll wear just the appropriate number of accessories and life will be good. (Talk about mixing metaphors — eek! My honors English teacher would FREAK!)

Okay, okay, let’s wrap this jumble up and slap a bow on it: Bottom line? I need to figure out PRECISELY what makes me tick before I can adjust the timing.

There.

Wish me luck while I sleuth for the truth. (It might not be pretty…but it will sure be worth it!)

I Can’t

Lots of people have “bucket lists” that they write before they have weight loss surgery. On it, are things that they WILL be able to do, once they lose the weight. They don’t really talk about the things they WON’T be able to do after surgery, so I decided to make a list here.

I think it’s important to realize what you will be agreeing to, once you trade OBESITY for HEALTH, so here’s my list. Of course, given time, I’m sure I could double it. (I am so “limited” now…)

Since Gastric Bypass Surgery, I Can’t:

• Take the elevator, if the stairs are available
• Go outside in 65º weather without a jacket
• Sleep without covers (because I am always cold)
• Chug-a-lug a Big Gulp from 7-11
• Wear clothes that are too big (because I look stupid in them)
• Eat and drink at the same time
• Reach the pedals and steering wheel with the seat all the way back
• Eat fast
• Drink carbonated beverages
• Eat meat. Any.
• Pass a size 4 or 6 anything without wondering how cute it would look on me
• Go to Trader Joe’s without buying Greek Yogurt
• Look at Meat Tenderizer the same way I used to
• Remember what it felt like to fear exercise
• Keep quiet when someone says that Weight Loss Surgery is cheating
• Stay silent when someone says they take Flintstones Chewables and Tums
• Ooze through the armrests in an armchair.
• Rest my breasts on the table in a booth at the restaurant
• Walk by a mirror or window without looking at myself in the reflection
• Wear flats
• Hide when someone is holding a camera
• FInd more than three “before” pictures in the photo box
• Wear a size 30
• Leave the house without packing for the entire day (with protein redundancy!)
• Order/eat food from a drive-thru restaurant
• Stomach the idea that I ever ate as much as I did
• Not look at an obese person and WISH that they could choose WLS
• Take anything for granted, leave anything open to interpretation, or just “play it by ear” where food is involved.
• Eat at Hometown Buffet and get my money’s worth. All I can eat is worth about a buck…
• Picture myself being obese again
• Not drink a protein shake for breakfast
• Understand how anyone would think I took the “easy way out.”
• Plan my funeral (because I don’t plan on dying anytime soon)
• Walk down a hall without wanting to skip
• Visit a sporting goods store without wanting to try out the treadmills, ellipticals and bikes
• Stand still
• Ignore my vitamins
• Take blood work for granted
• Sit back and say nothing if I see a fellow WLSer making a horrible mistake
• Eat bread, pasta or rice
• Get out of bed in the morning without singing for joy at the miracle of WLS
• Not help someone who asks me for help in the Bariatric After Life™
• Fathom how I ever ate as much junk as I did
• Say “no” when an old friend I haven’t seen wants to get together
• Sleep-in past 9 AM
• Imagine living my life in any other way

How about you? What does your “Can’t List” look like?

Hey guys, so I’ve been doing this Youtube stuff for a month now, and today was a momentous day. Apparently, a bunch of people watched my review of Revival Soy bars, then decided to buy them at bariatriceating.com, and bought out the entire inventory! Can you stand it?

I guess I’ll have to warn people before I review their stuff, right? (Uh, just to make sure they don’t sell out in 1 hour, I mean!)

Hey, life is good!

Keep watching and keep buying! It’s good for ya!

Quinoa, Cooking and My General Aversion to all Things Kitchen

Photo by Rob@FormerFatDudes.com

I’ve gotta tell you…I don’t know when this happened. I used to be right at home in the kitchen. I mean, as a gastric bypass pre-op, even though I wasn’t one of those people who can experiment and come up with (BAM!) amazing dishes, I did manage to follow some terrific recipes and make a lot of people very happy. As a matter of fact, I have a hand painted mural in my kitchen that reads: Cocina de Chile — Body and soul fed daily. (My nickname is “Chiles” – long story). I also have a painting of my kitchen saint (“San Pasqual” ) who had angels to help him finish the cooking each day (we all need those).

So, in my “before life,” I had no hesitation, trepidation or consternation about cooking or baking. Hey, I’ve been doing famous Thanksgiving Friday meals at my place for YEARS (it’s a regular event and people bring their ziplok containers for leftovers) and my chocolate chips cookies are LEGENDARY.

So, what has happened in my Bariatric After Life™ to keep me from wanting to cook?

The easy answer would be that I am fearful of the temptation. In other words, even if I cook something healthy, I might want to sample and taste and pinch and nibble my way through prep (which is what I always did pre-op), then still sit down for a meal. I know that this happened when I baked bariatric friendly cookies for Christmas 2 years ago. I ate too many (which defeated the purpose of the healthy baking!) So, maybe I lost my mojo because I don’t want to be surrounded by opportunities to overeat.

Or, maybe it comes from my mom — who was a good cook, but not a confident one. She never taught me how to set up a pantry or what to have on hand so I would always be able to throw together something tasty. It’s not her fault, it’s just that I’m a rule follower and like instructions (guidelines?)

Maybe it happened that time I tried to cook Mexican rice and it turned into a sticky glop. Before that, I’d never had trouble with rice, but something about cooking for MexiKen (and knowing I could never compete with his mama) must have thrown me off my game. (I believe there is a *grain* of truth to that

Whatever it is, I print recipes like an addict….but very rarely pull them out and actually USE them. Heck, it’s a major production just to crock beans in the pot (which I just started doing 3 weeks ago, by the way…). Before that, it was even hard to motivate myself enough to OPEN THE CAN. I would seriously fight with myself over whether or not I could use the can opener to extricate the beans, heat them in the pan and mash them with the back of a spoon. Isn’t it just easier to BUY a cup of beans?

Which brings me to today: I have an unopened box of Quinoa on the counter. It’s just sitting there, waiting patiently for me to pop it open and cook up a batch. But I’m intimidated. What if it comes out like my Mexican rice? Inedible and just plain yucky? What if I don’t LIKE it once I cook it? I’ve never tried it before and think I’ve built it so far up in my mind, it will underwhelm and disappoint me. Like that time when I watched Chariots of Fire and HATED it, even though the entire world raved about how amazing it was. All I saw was people running. And running. And running. And looking exhausted. In slow motion. To some really pretty music. What was so great about that?

But, I digress.

The point is, I think I’ve built an obstacle in my kitchen that doesn’t need to be there. Right now, it seems to be constructed out of protein containers full of uncooked quinoa, so it shouldn’t be *too* hard to dismantle, but it’s still THERE. Smack dab in front of the STOVE — and there’s a big picture of QUINOA on the front. I think I could probably knock it down, but it’s gonna take some gumption (and maybe a spatula, a skillet and some dried cranberries).

In the meantime, I’ve set a goal to actually cook the quinoa. Before next Monday.

• I will conquer this crazy kitchen fear!
• I shall overcome!
• I shall be victorious!
• I will not burn the quinoa.

Film at 11….

Bariatric Barnum & Bailey

When I awoke this morning, I felt like I had just stepped off one of those moving sidewalks at the airport at exactly the wrong pace. I stumbled and staggered and moaned a little about how tired I am since the time change, and how I need to get my feet under me so I can get this show on the road (literally and figuratively).

I had designs on doing some cardio before work, but since I’d gotten to bed after midnight (which is 2 hours past my bedtime), my body had other ideas. Rather than beat myself up about it, I decided to go back to bed for another hour and a half, so I could function at a solid 80% today (ha ha).

Anyway, when I got up, I went straight to the shower — which just so happens to be where I do some of my best creative thinking (don’t ask why). While I was shaving my legs (or something equally riveting), it occurred to me that my life is a bariatric 3-ring circus, only I don’t know if I’m the ring-leader, or the juggler on the tight rope trying to tame the lions in the ring of fire. (Fortunately, I’m not the fat lady, so we can rule that one out!) I mean, in the last 8 days, I launched the Gastric Bypass Barbie channel on YouTube and have published 6 segments! At 4-1/2 hours of editing time, (not including the time it takes to get myself all “Barbied Up” and shoot the show), you can imagined that I’m feeling the stress a bit.

All of this, while continuing to squeeze time in at the gym, stay current with my social networking connections (Facebook and Twitter) AND keep this blog relevant and fresh. Oh yeah, did I mention I also went to the ExpoWest Health Food and Products Trade Show at the Anaheim Convention Center with Maid Marian Michele (so I could keep my bariatric peeps informed of the latest and greatest bariatric friendly food products?)

How, on earth, can I keep up with my exercise program (and even increase it, now that my shin splints are better), continue to blog and social network, produce an Internet program, work a 40+ hour a week job, and maintain a healthy eating program? I mean, I’ve already dropped a few balls by not keeping up with my favorite bariatric community forums (Recovering Fatty and Bariatric TV!)

I’m no “P.T. Bariatric” — but maybe I’d been learn to become one — and fast!

I think the only way I’m going to tame this circus, is if I have a solid game plan, so here’s where I’m cracking the whip:

The first area of improvement would be bedtime. I need to be in bed by 10 PM so I can arise by 5 AM (I usually get up at 5:20, but I think I need those additional 20 minutes). I then need to develop a more efficient exercise program in the mornings; something that I can do in 30-minutes — without compromising my fitness. I can continue to work out longer on Saturday mornings. Next, I have to get faster at editing my shows. I suppose that will come with time and practice, but I need to hurry up and get faster NOW (LOL). Finally, I have to remember to relax — and that means getting back to yoga.

Does this sound like a tall order? Perhaps, but then, I’m used to being center stage, so I think I can handle it. Oh my goodness — look at the time!!!

I’ve gotta run — someone has another monkey on their back and the elephant in the room just sat on a protein bar! Have a great day!

NEW! Gastric Bypass Barbie Show Goes Live!

I’m pleased to announce that the PILOT EPISODE of the Gastric Bypass Barbie Show is now LIVE on my very own Youtube Channel! I finally joined the hundreds (thousands?) of other WLSers out there and figured out how to make and edit a video (using nothing more than my iMAC computer, InSight camera, iDVD, iTunes, some pink duct tape and a little baling wire.)

Of course, there’s always room for Jello, so I’ll work to ensure that the program gets better and better with each episode.

Feel free to watch, subscribe and comment! (Then, tell your friends — LOL!)

Now…how the heck do I pick a better video still for the freeze frame? I look like a dope in this one — ugh!