Gastric Bypass Barbie

Hot Air Balloons, Regain, & Ruby Red Slippers (Oh, My!)

This morning, while Enrique Elliptical and I were having our 45 minutes of cardio together, I got a visual of myself rising up into the air (like a balloon). I was frantically kicking and flailing my arms in a feeble attempt to stay on the ground, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t stop myself from drifting away.

Then, I visualized Dorothy, from the Wizard of Oz. Remember how she got into the basket of the hot air balloon with the Great Oz, after he promised to take her back home? Remember how Toto jumped out at the last second, forcing her to dive right out after him? Of course, we all know what happened next: The balloon drifted away because it didn’t have enough sand bags to weight it down. No matter what Dorothy did, she could not stop it from happening.

Though the entire movie, she tried heroically to get home, but once she missed that balloon, we were all convinced that she’d be stuck in Oz forever. That is, of course, until Glenda (the Good Witch) returned to tell her that she’s always had the power to go home; all she had to do was wish hard enough and click her ruby red slippers together.

So, how does this little tale apply to me in my Bariatric After Life™? Well, the runaway balloon represents weight regain. Remember how I said that I’d visualized myself floating away, unable to keep my feet on the ground? Remember how Dorothy couldn’t keep that balloon on the ground either?

As it turns out, the balloon (and all of the things Dorothy tried in Oz) represented OUTWARD forces – things that were OUT OF HER CONTROL. The ruby red slippers were the manifestation of all that was INSIDE; her INWARD FORCES. Ultimately, she needed to fail at all of her externally motivated attempts so she could finally see that, only by looking inside herself, would she be able to achieve her dream of returning home.

This is what codependency is all about; the idea that we are affected by and seek answers from outward forces, when we really should be looking WITHIN.

What I realized after this little movie played out in my head was this: I have the power to control my weight regain. I am not a hot-air balloon that is leaving without me — I am Dorothy who knows there is NO PLACE LIKE HOME because I have always been there. I’ve always had the control to be where I most wanted to be — and that’s where I stand today.

Today, I had to remember that I have the God-given power within me to achieve whatever I need to achieve – and I don’t need a wise and powerful Oz to live a healthy and happy bariatric after life.

It’s such a simple lesson, it’s hard to believe I ever missed it. But, I guess life is made up of lots of simple answers – which I just like to make more complicated.

Hey, I think I need a pair of cute little ruby red pumps. Uh, so I can always find my way home.

Stairs

In my “before” life, I was terrified of stairs. This fear was NOT without basis, as I had fallen down my share of them and ended up with some pretty nasty (though not permanent) injuries. Interestingly, I had also fallen “up” them (which is a whole other situation). Either way, stairs were my nemesis and I avoided them at all cost.

If there were stairs to climb, I’d take the escalator or elevator.
If there were stairs to descend, and there were no other options, I’d white-knuckle it. One. Step. At. A. Time.

Heck, I had trouble with even ONE stair, as evidenced by two falls out of my motor home!

Poor MexiKen was utterly traumatized by my stair episodes, and still holds his breath when he sees me going up or down them. (Old habits die hard.)

Anyway, the point of the stairs is, before my bariatric surgery, they USED to represent horrible things to me:

• Fear
• Pain
• Trauma
• Effort
• Exhaustion

But, this weekend, as I explored Cincinnati with total abandon (and not the slightest hint of terror at the sight of a flight of stairs), I realized that stairs now mean something entirely different to me.

They now represent good things, like:

• Adventure
• Possibility
• Challenge
• New Heights
• Unexplored Treasures
• Beautiful Vistas
• Conquering
• Success

I’ve come to the conclusion that stairs are really just a metaphor for my weight loss journey. When I weighed 316 pounds, all I could see was a never-ending flight of stairs — hundreds and hundreds of steps between me and a healthy body. Taking the first step was unimaginable; scaling all of them would be impossible.

Before, all I could see was the totality of the stairs; an entire staircase.



Now, as I continue to ascend the steps — but for different reasons — I see each step as growth and opportunity. But, of course, this is all about perspective. I have a much different view of my life from up here.

For example, now when I struggle with 2-5 pounds, I realize that they are just “steps” — not an entire STAIRCASE. All I have to do is step UP, and I’m back to where I want to be. I don’t have to scale the entire thing like I did before.

And that is where the perspective comes in. The mistake I have made in the past is looking at the entire flight of stairs as if I had to get to the top in one step, rather than walking up — one, by one. Of course it seemed insurmountable to me. Of course I didn’t believe I could do it. Even at my best, I can still only take 2 steps at a time — and I’m in pretty good shape!

What I’ve learned in my Bariatric After Life™ is this:

• Stairs can represent something negative or something positive; I choose positive.
• Stairs can bring me to amazing new heights and wonderful adventures.
• Stairs can take me to places I would never have imagined I’d be
• Stairs can help me see things from a perspective I could never dreamt existed.
• Stairs are no longer my enemy; they are my friend. I know it sounds weird, but it’s all true.

This past weekend, in Cincinnati, I climbed up and down so many stairs, and experienced so many wonderful things. I met amazing people and saw beautiful views. I grew as a person, all because I stopped fearing the stairs, and chose to embrace them, instead.

Highlights from Obesity Help Conference 2010

Cincinnati, Ohio • August 21-22, 2010 • The Westin Cincinnati

I promised you some highlights on my latest adventure at the OH Conference in Cincinnati, and I’m delivering!

DAY 1: It takes a really long time to get to Cincinnati from Long Beach. Despite getting up at 4AM to catch a 6:50 AM flight, I didn’t arrive in Cincinnati (well, Covington, Kentucky, actually) until 3:45 PM (local time). After waiting for an airport shuttle that was never going to come (airport people told me it would; The Westin told me there wasn’t one. Oh well), I paid $30 for a roundtrip aboard the inappropriately named “Executive Limousine Shuttle.” Hmmm….

Checked into a lovely room on the 10th floor of the hotel, unpacked, donned my walking tennis, and headed for the riverfront! After walking 4 blocks in the wrong direction,(“Why are these street numbers going UP? D’oh!”) I managed to find my way to the actual RIVER. It is hard to lose the Ohio River, but if anyone can do it, I can!

Meandered around by the Great American ballpark (Home of the Cincinnati Reds), Bengal Stadium, the Steamboat Monument, The Underground Railroad Freedom Museum, and the world’s only floating theatre (it’s a live theatre on an old paddleboat.)

I have no idea how far I walked (because I don’t have a pedometer, and even if I did, I couldn’t figure out how to program it, so, until someone gives me an automatically configured device, I’m going to have to overestimate. I’d say I walked 20 miles, but it was probably closer to about 4 – roundtrip — including going the wrong direction first.

Returned to the hotel around 7:30 and decided to shower and shine so I could be presentable for packing out goody bags with Kim and the OH team. I was really sticky from my walk — it was “river humid.”

About 9 PM, I started hearing really loud music and figured the people in the room next door were listening to their TV set REALLY, REALLY LOUDLY! Not so. Turns out they have live music every summer evening in FOUNTAIN SQUARE — 10 stories down from me. Yes, that was loud music (or they were thin windows…I haven’t decided which, yet.) So, I wandered downstairs to hear the music and shake my hips a little to the rhythm. It was DELIGHTFUL!

Next, I meandered back to the hotel to help with the folder assembly for the events (it was 10:15 PM). After we finished, I was all amped and couldn’t THINK of going to bed. So, Connie (Dr. Connie Stapleton) and I decided to go WORK OUT in the gym on the 17th floor. No, there are no windows. No, there was no fan on the elliptical. Yes, I worked out for 65 minutes and made it about 5.2 miles. By then, it was around 12:30, but too early for bed (!!!) — So, we sat under an icy cold blast of air (all sweaty and junk) and chatted until 2 AM! I got to bed around 2:30 and arose around 8:15 because SHANNON WATTS was going to be checking in at around 9:45

DAY 2:

As promised, Shannon (of Revival Soy fame) arrived and, after taking care of some orders by phone, we were off to the races! We wandered around downtown looking for a restaurant (there were none; don’t ask) and, after about 2 miles, ended up back at the hotel, where we decided to catch a cab to Mt. Adams. We got there around 12:30 and it was simply ADORABLE! Beautiful little town

We decided to eat lunch at the FISH HOUSE and it was divine! We split a salad (that had gorgonzola crumbles, dried cranberries, some out-of-this-world-dressing, and some other stuff that I can’t recall because I had slipped into a food coma.) Then, we split a planked mahi mahi with orange pepper sauce, steamed asparagus and roasted potatoes. We passed on the bread (thank you) and couldn’t finish our halves of the meal. Not that we didn’t WANT to, but our pouches didn’t permit

Our server, Michael (who was terrific, by the way), suggested that we “walk to Kentucky.” So, we did.

I’m not exactly sure how far it was (again, I think it was 47 miles, but it was probably more like 4 or 5) — but the walk was so fantastic, I’d do it again tomorrow! We commenced in Mt. Adams, Ohio, then traveled along the river front on a winding path that took us through lovely parks, by old homes, and over the freeway! We finally arrived at the much ballyhooed PURPLE PEOPLE BRIDGE — which took us over the Ohio River to: NEWPORT, KENTUCKY! See? We really DID walk from Ohio to Kentucky! After enjoying an ice sugar free skinny cinnamon dolce latte while Shannon stood under the misters to cool off, we grabbed a cab and headed back to the hotel so we could freshen up for the Q&A.

DAY 2: 3:30

Yea! The OH Event is officially underway

We took up our seats in the front row (notch) in front of the table of panelists: Terri Black (3-year post-op and OH Support Group Leader), Yvonne McCarthy (10-year post-op aka Bariatric Girl), Dr. Connie Stapleton (Psychologist extraordinaire), Dr. Garth and Dr. Robert Davis (you know them from Big Medicine and the Davis Clinic in Houston), Chef Dave, and Annessa Chumbley (registered dietitian and really adorable lady Lots of great questions about things like vitamin deficiencies and whether or not you actually need to drink protein shakes and take supplements after a year post-op. Jury is still out on this one. Dr. Davis says, “No!” and many others say, “Yes!” Also met a lovely new friend who just so happens to be a 5-year post-op who lost 437 pounds. Yes, you read that right. She amazed us all with her vitality and joy for living I cannot remember her name right now (because I am terrible at that), but I will never forget her!

Next, it was off to the Meet & Greet, where we were entertained by Bo McCoy and got to eat some amazing Mexican food. There was shredded chicken, beef and sauteed bell pepper, but I didn’t have that stuff. I hung around at the black beans (seasoned to perfection), cheese and guacamole! No tostadas for me. I can’t stop, once I start those things! Oh, I think there was fresh fruit, too…maybe? I dunno, but after waiting my hour after eating, I was ready for iced-tea and it was gone (you snooze, you lose!)

Oh well, off to shopping and exploring! Me, Shannon Watts, and Amy Fekete were on a mission to find some shoes, so we raced over to Macy’s…which, inexplicably closed at 8 PM on a Friday night. What-ever.

Amy saved the day by offering to drive us around in her sexy yellow Camaro (with black racing stripes, of course!) After all, we couldn’t waste our hotness on the hotel, right? We crossed the bridge and headed for Newport on the Levee, where we, once again participated in some retail therapy. Unfortunately, none of us found a darned thing (Except me…I bought a light up pig flashlight for my daughter. Don’t ask. It made me happy.) Shan and Amy walked into the candy shop (I don’t ask questions…I just wait) and Shannon emerged with a block o’ sugar free fudge, which we decided was more like a cross between a brownie and fudge, so I named it “frownies” or “budge” — either way, it was rich and we decided we wouldn’t binge on something like that.

After that, it was back to the hotel (ostensibly, to go to bed so we’d be rested for the early morning check-in and registration!)

DAY 3: 5:30 AM

For some reason, Shannon and I did not sleep much. We laughed and scratched until she fell asleep mid-sentence. On her face. Television on. Remote control lost. I think it was about 1:45 or 2 AM. Since I can only talk to myself for so long, I finally turned out the lights (but left the TV on, because I am technologically challenged like that.) She turned it off at 5:25 and I awoke at 5:30. Probably because the TV stopped making white noise at me.

I made the most perfect shake I have ever made in a hotel room. Slurp. I now understand that the secret to a successful shake on the road is the Almond Breeze. I MUST pack Almond Breeze — every time.

Made it downstairs at 7:30 sharp and it was time to work with “Kim’s-husband-Dave” to get people signed-in! What fun, meeting all of the wonderful attendees. Sorry, no tee-shirts in MEDIUM! EEEK. I had a minor mutiny on my hands when I had to announce that. Funny how we bariatric people are so proud of our new (and shrinking) sizes, we have no tolerance when the small sizes are unavailable!!!

Meanwhile, in the main ballroom, Bo was warming up the crowd, readying them for an amazing day of information, laughs, and entertainment.

First Up: Dr. Connie Stapleton (Pscyhologist). If you’ve never met or seen Connie, she is freaking adorable! I am not kidding when I tell you she is like a little sprite or something — a ton of energy, all packed into this little body that wears fabulous shoes and the cutest dresses you’ve ever seen. Why didn’t I take pictures of her adorableness??? Why? Why? Anyway, she talked about Life After the Honeymoon — which is what happens in the Bariatric After Life™, when you stop losing your weight and have to find a way to not only maintain, but thrive and be healthy and happy doing it! I love how she compares marriage to bariatric surgery — so many similarities, it’s scary (LOL).

Next Up: Dr. Garth Davis (Bariatric Surgeon and co-founder of The Davis Clinic - a weight loss center in Houston). He talked about how critical it is for us to STOP polluting our bodies with processed foods and – yes — MEAT. Watch Food, Inc. and you’ll understand where he’s coming from. He explained about how people in the “Blue Zones” live longer, healthier lives by living active, organic, vegetarian lifestyles. His talk is quite entertaining and persuasive, and I am doing my best to limit — if not eliminate — processed foods and artificial sweeteners. It is not going to be easy, and it won’t happen overnight, but I’m onboard.

Next: Chef Dave…but I missed him (I’m sorry!)

I had to go shopping and this was my only chance. Fortunately, I found the most rocking LBD — little black dress — you’ve ever seen, so I guess it’s okay that I missed his talk. Unfortunately, Shannon didn’t find any shoes or a top, so she came home empty-handed.

LUNCH! We had fresh fruit, cottage cheese, salad, and a choice of egg, chicken or tuna salad. Unfortunately ALL of these had too much mayo, and if you didn’t recognize it with the first bite, you were likely to dump. I didn’t “go there”, but many others did, and paid the price. Ugh!

Next Up: Yvonne McCarthy, Bariatric Girl, 10-Year Post-op
Yvonne gave the neatest talk, and it was STANDING ROOM ONLY! My two favorite parts ? When she put 120-pound Tracy on her back and walked around to demonstrate how much she (Yvonne) LOST after bariatric surgery, and when she hung tube socks with golf balls around her neck to show how her boobs looked before surgery. Hey! I had some of those, too Anyway, her talk was inspiring, informative and FUNNY! She rocked the house — you go, girl! Whoo-hoo!

Next Up: Mary Jo Rapini, LPC. Oh my gosh, she is HYSTERICAL! She talked about sex and relationships in the Bariatric After Life and even had VISUAL AIDS (which, she explained, she was brave enough to get through airport security just for us. Trust me, if you see what I mean, you’ll understand how much she really does love us!) Anyway, her talk was funny, informative, open and really, really uplifting. If you have NEVER heard a real sex-therapist talk, you have GOT to hear Mary Jo. She will have you texting sexy messages to your honey-bunny in 5 minutes flat. Turn down the lights, light up the candles, turn on the music — and head to OH Houston so you can hear her for yourself!!!

There were other speakers, too, but I was off running around and I missed them (sorry!) There was also a professional panel, where all of the professionals who had spoken took questions from the audience. I also missed that (sorry again, but there’s always Houston.)

*** NOTE: I blame Shannon Watts for missing these events. She made me go shopping. I’m serious. I didn’t want to. I also didn’t want to buy all of those Starbucks iced sugar free skinny lattes…I mean it. She is VERY persuasive like that. She threatened to withhold my Revival Soy Chips, and I can’t very well let that happen, right?

Anyway, this is where my story ends, because I was hit with a very bad case of hormones (I’m being general here, so the boys don’t get squirmy) and I did NOT get to go to the ultra-fun prize giveaway event OR the fashion show and dance. I am still pouting about this, because I bought that LBD and no one got to see it (except Shannon. She made me buy it. Did I tell you that?)

So, Shannon (probably because she felt so guilty about the whole “forced-shopping” thing) stayed with me in the room and kept me awake so I wouldn’t oversleep and miss my plane. We laughed until I snorted and I said evil things about bedbugs, and then we ordered room service (!) at 3:15 AM (we split a lousy salad). Shan helpfully put the tray out in the hallway. In front of the neighbor’s door. But she caught it…and put it in front of ours…so I could trip over it on my way out at 5:25 am. But, I forgot to tell you about the part where I thought it would be a good idea to take a 15-minute cat-nap (from 4 AM until 4:15, because I had my alarm set and everything.) Did I mention my amazing ability to wake myself up when I snore? Yes, I can do this — much to Shannon’s amazement. Anyway, at 4:35, I miraculously awoke to realize I had overslept because my phone was on SILENT (from all of the seminars, of course). UGH! Just enough time to shower and shine. Fortunately, I had taken 2-1/2 hours to pack between 1:00 AM and 2:30, so I didn’t have to mess with that. Yes, I am a terrible packer when I am tired and have cramps. Okay, I am a terrible packer ALWAYS, but I am WORSE under duress. And when people are LAUGHING at me (Shannon).

No time for the sun to rise — it was off to the airport to catch and ungodly-early flight back home (and get through airport security with my Labrada Lean Body protein shake and Protein Blitz drink. No, I couldn’t take my sealed bottled water with me, because they “have that on the plane.” Whatever.)

I was home before I knew it — well, probably because I managed to snore-wake-sleep my way through both flights, while managing to leave my reading glasses in the super-cute case in the back pocket of the airplane seat — ugh. We landed at 12:05 and I was at curbside, with my check-in baggage — by 12:16. I am not kidding you. That is what it is like to fly into Long Beach — and back to MexiKen’s waiting arms.

Sigh. I hate leaving him, but I did it for YOU ;-* LOL.

PS –Before I end this “too-long-epistle”, let me give a loud shout out to my girls, Yvonne and Connie! We (and Shannon) managed to “sneak in” a couple of meals and coffees throughout the weekend, and it was simply lovely. I had a blast, girls! Let’s do it again SOON! Muah!

See ya’ll in Houston — November 5-6, people. There’s STILL time!
Discount Code: GBBarbie!

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?

Rocket Ships & Purple Apes

This morning, while I was talking to Jim, I came up with (what I believe to be) two, profound analogies –– or are they metaphors? I can’t tell, so I will use them interchangeably –– for my for my Bariatric After Life™. The first analogy explains how I got to where I am, and the second explains how I will get to where I want to be.

Before I tell you what they are, understand that I’m absolutely certain they are not novel, and they have probably been written up in HUNDREDS of self-help books on the subject of “finding your authentic self.” But, since I’m not much of a reader (ironic, considering I’m a writer), I haven’t stumbled across them, so they are unique (and wonderful) to me.

Hopefully, they will be to you, too.

ANALOGY #1: My Colors

Since I’ve been voraciously reading (I know, ME, right? Didn’t we just talk about how I don’t read? Okay, sometimes I do…) a short, little, simple book that Yvonne (Bariatric Girl) generously gave me about a month ago (title withheld for now…), I’ve come to the conclusion that, a) I am co-dependent, and b) my inner child was wounded in ways I never imagined. With that said, I got to wondering what I would be like now “IF” certain things hadn’t transpired in my life. I likened it to painting on a big canvas or piece of paper (or wall, in my daughter’s case…LOL).

As a child, I’m certain I had a palette of favorite colors that I used to define my world. The way in which I used those colors was uniquely ME. It was my own style, method and creation. The reason I know this is the truth is because I distinctly remember an event in Kindergarten. I was 4-1/2 (December birthday) and I was coloring my “A, Ape” page with a purple crayon because I thought the brown was ugly, and I didn’t like the black. The teacher “helpfully” asked me if I “knew what color an ape” was. “Yes…,” I timidly replied. “Well, why did you color your ape PURPLE?” she “helpfully” asked (in what I interpreted to be an accusatory tone).

By this time, it was clear to me that I had committed an offensible crime, punishable by (what I was certain would be) a paddling when I returned from lunch. I never understood why some people got paddled when they came back from lunch, and I thought it was a “random” thing. Who knew you’d only get paddled if you broke a rule (like not eating everything in your lunchbag, or coloring your ape purple)? I felt this was really unfair because LOTS of kindergarteners left at lunchtime, which left us “full-dayers” directly in the line of “paddle-fire.” And, besides…what if I had lost my black and brown crayons? Then what?

Anyway, the point of this story is that gradually, people in my life added THEIR colors to MY palette, and they began to tell me how I SHOULD be using my colors. (Case in point: Ape = Black or Brown; Not Purple). Eventually, most of my colors and style were replaced by someone else’s, yet I internalized them as my own. In other words, I began to falsely believe that they were my colors, and that how I was living my life (or seeing the world), was my own, unique style.

This pattern continued as I took art class in Junior High. We had to do pen and ink drawings, but being left-handed, I couldn’t use the pen because the nib would always splay and cause the ink to splatter. I got marked down for not doing my art “properly.” Lesson learned: Art has rules.

In case you are keeping score, by this time in my life, I had learned:

a) Apes are not purple.
b) Art must be done a certain way.
c) Left-handed people cannot draw.

Okay, so I adapted. I didn’t pursue art because I couldn’t “do” it properly, and I clearly used the wrong colors. Well, as literal as the art thing is, the conceptual part is that there were lots and lots and lots of things I didn’t pursue or didn’t do, period, or just did differently because I was afraid to get in trouble. I was afraid to express myself incorrectly.

Ultimately, I guess I learned how to be *uniquely me*, according to someone else’s rules – a fact which clearly went on to play a starring role in my insatiable desire to attain control.

Since I couldn’t control anything *else* in my life, I destructively decided to control FOOD. Good plan.

So, now I’m working to rediscover my authentic colors and style in an effort to return balance to my life and beat the desire to binge. I don’t know where this will take me, or what things I’ll have to do to make this happen, but I’m eagerly waiting — box of crayons in front of me (most of them broken and kinda flat, and many colors missing…that’s just how I am), and a whole ream of clean, white paper to draw on. Maybe I’ll practice really, really drawing again. Hmmm…That’s a thought.

METAPHOR #2: Rocket Ships

I was watching a show on the history of NASA and the astronauts, and one of the things I remember from an episode with Buzz Aldrin (yes, mom, I spelled it correctly this time), was his description of what it felt like to blast off from the launch pad in a Saturn 5 rocket. As he described it, it was not a smooth ride at all. Rather, it was a frightening, quivering, forceful event, comprised of a colossal amount of noise and constant adjustment. He said that there were these thrusters that were really just massive gyroscopes, and each one had the job of keeping the rocket STRAIGHT. You see, rockets don’t just have one, really big exhaust flume — they have a lot of little jets that fire and spin to create the perfect alignment for lift-off. Buzz said it felt like he was sitting on a spinning top, and the crew was never really sure if they were going to clear the tower, because of all the leaning and constant correct.

See, it’s the job of the thrusters to control the upward motion of the rocket — this one shoots harder than that one, this one points that why, while this one tilts the other way… Sometimes a thruster has to exert less power to allow another to compensate. Have you ever seen footage of rockets that blast off, then veer directly into the ground? Problem with the gyro boosters…

Are you getting the picture? Like life, lift-off is NOT just a solid thrust of power, followed by an endless orbit! It is a series of corrections (and over-corrections!)

Now, here’s where this applies to my Bariatric After Life: Up until this morning, I mistakenly believed that my energy had to be channeled or focused into a single flume; but now I realize I need to distribute it over many, many “gyroscopic boosters” (for lack of a better expression), in order to keep me pointing in the right direction. I can’t just focus on “this” or “that;” I have to look at all of the energy sources and all of the energy requirements, and get them working together with the requisite “give and take.”

But, there’s more to this little metaphorical analogy! Remember how I’d mentioned that “restlessness” thing I’d learned from a fellow blogger? She’d wisely explained that the source of her desire to eat was directly related to her feeling of restlessness — not boredom! She felt that “recovery” would come from learning to “be okay” with the restlessness; learning to sit with it, until it dissipated.

Well, thanks to something brilliant that Jim said (as an aside, really…I swear, he doesn’t say much, but when he says SOMETHING, you’d better listen!) — he mentioned that he is also restless, and what he tries to do is FOCUS that energy into positive activities.

Did you read that clearly?

FOCUS. THAT. ENERGY.

Not wait for it to dissipate.
Not try to quell it or quiet it.

FOCUS IT.

Hmmm…Guess what? My RESTLESSNESS IS ENERGY (nervous, anxious, whatever you want to call it — but it IS energy.) This is completely OPPOSITE of listlessness! What a GIFT I’ve been given! I actually HAVE energy, I don’t need to FIND energy!

So, armed with that knowledge, and my newly minted rocket-ship analogy (or is that simile? I keep getting these metaphors mixed up), I am filled with powerful knowledge that should help me to conquer (or at least wrest control of) my binge problem. It’s not really about understanding it at all. It’s about using the energy I already have to overcome it.

Then I can focus on the more important things in life…like painting my ape purple, if I wanna.

Barbie Celebrates Her 1 Year Blogiversary

1 Year ago today, I officially launched GastricBypassBarbie.com. Hard to believe, isn’t it? I mean, in those days, I didn’t know if anyone would find the site (let alone stick around and read my musings!) And if they actually did find me, I wasn’t sure they’d return! I vividly remember how excited I was to learn that 5 people had stopped by…or 1 person had left a comment. I was simply amazed that anyone would care what I had to say. Back then, I had no idea where the site would take me, how it would change over time, or how I would so radically evolve in the process!

Let me take you back to July 22, 2009.

I was 1-1/2 years post-op, and feeling as green as the day is long. A few, well-meaning people had “whispered” things into my ear that made me doubt whether I should even start a blog. They “helpfully” told me that I should “wait until I had three years of success under my belt” as a bariatric post-op; before I writing about my experiences; that way, people would “believe me more.” Other people told me that, since I was “so unusual” (in that, I’d lost more weight than the “average post-op,”) I’d just end up offending people, and no one would listen to anything I had to say, because it wouldn’t apply to them! In other words, there was a lot of negativity, disguised as supportive advice.

Fortunately, there was a lot MORE positivity and, being blindly optimistic, my passion for sharing won out! Well, *that* and I’m incredibly stubborn and impatient, so I didn’t want to wait. Of course, that didn’t stop me from wrestling with whether anyone would take me seriously for not having lived a very long bariatric after life. I had my doubts that I would find new and interesting things to say for longer than about a month; I wondered if I would always feel as enthusiastic, positive and successful as I did then. In July 2009, I was fresh, alive, inspired, largely unaffected by the online world…and filled with self-doubt.

When I pressed  the “Publish” button for that first time, I was both terrified and proud. After all, I had taken that first, big step –– even though I had NO IDEA where the road would take me.

Here’s how I would describe the Barbie from 1 year ago:

• Optimistic
• Wide-eyed
• Innocent
• Naive
• Encouraged
• Passionate
• Sensitive
• Thoughtful
• Motivated
• Healthy
• Focused
• Carefree
• Natural
• Reactionary
• Loving
• Generous
• Nervous

Well, I think it’s pretty clear to anyone who’s followed me over the course of the last 12 months that, while some things have remained the same, OTHER things are much different.

Here’s how I would describe the Barbie of today:

• Confident
• Focused
• Centered
• Grounded
• Guarded
• Positive
• Seasoned
• Aware
• Compassionate
• Skeptical
• Responsive
• Supportive
• Loving
• Generous
• Empowered
• Gratified
• Humbled

I’m sure I left out words from both lists, but I think you can see the idea. A lot of things can happen in 12 months, and my life is no exception. I wonder what the NEXT 12 months will hold? I guess we’ll have to wait until July 22, 2011 to find out

In the meantime, let me share a few, notable milestones from the past year:

1. I started seeing an amazing therapist (Jim) and we have made tremendous progress in ways I couldn’t have dreamed possible.
2. I have begun to find balance and harmony in my Bariatric After Life™ (work in progress)
3. I have become mentally and emotionally stronger, happier, more confident and deeper
4. I went to the 1st annual WLS Meet in Greet in Las Vegas as an exhibitor and speaker with MexiKen, Super Dave and Maid Marian Michele and made wonderful new friends and professional connections, including (in no particular order): Antonia Namnath – WLSFA.org, Dr. Bariatric, Sarah Will Be Skinny, Andrea JunglGirl, Lynnda, Mike and Toni, from BariatricTV, Ian McAgh and his lovely wife and son, T2Nashville, Tammy from Tennessee, Banded Wendy (and all the Banded Bitches), Nancy Weasel Hunt, ILTommyD (Tommy Dunmore from Illinois), JC (who had just begun his bypass journey about 3 weeks before the M&G), Amy Fekete (who videoed my talks), and a bunch of other people who are forever etched in my brain, but apparently not in my fingertips! You are not forgotten, I promise!
5. I launched my Youtube Channel (where, for the first time in my life, I do not run away from a video camera) and got to meet a bunch of remarkable people who comprise a vibrant and active WLS online community.
6. I joined Facebook and am rich with new and wonderful online friends.
7. I went to OH in Costa Mesa and made MORE wonderful new friends and professional connections, like: Dr. Garth Davis, Dr. Connie Stapleton (love her!), Yvonne McCarthy (Bariatric Girl), Teresa Dunn White (Celebrate Vitamins), Shannon Watts (Revival Soy) and many, many more!
8. I went to ASMBS in Las Vegas and — yes — made MORE wonderful new friends and professional connections: Susan Maria (Bariatric Eating), Dr. Guillermo Alvarez (Endobariatric, Piedras Negras, Mexico), Dr. Robert Davis, Dr. Marc from Bariatric Fusion, Eric, Kim and Kristin from Obesity Help and a bunch of other people whose names have escaped me, but whose impact on my life has not.
9. I participated in a photo shoot for the hospital where I had my RNY and will appear in their marketing materials. Billboards??? EEEK.
10. I will be attending the OH Conference in Cincinnati (crosses fingers) in August and Houston in November, and was even given my own discount code (GBBarbie) — How cool is that?
11. I have formed a team to participate in the Long Beach WALK FROM OBESITY (Team Barbie) in September, and already have 5 walkers and several sponsors.
12. I will turn “3-bariatric years old” in December.

This is, by no means a complete list but, it is from the heart. I mean, I knew my Blogiversary was coming up *soon,* but didn’t realize it was TODAY until I checked last night!  By golly, I was almost late to my OWN party (which is not hard to believe, if you know anything about me). So, while this is probably not how I envisioned my celebratory blog entry to read, it IS a finished blog entry, and it is published on the actual anniversary date, so I’m putting it squarely in the “success” column

Heck, maybe there’s a metaphor for my new life in there: I learn, I adapt, I risk, and then I do it all over again — whether I’m ready or not!

Anyway, I’ll leave you with this:

To those of you who have been with me from the beginning, I thank you for your encouragement and love.

For those who have discovered me along the way — and stuck around for the insanity — I thank you for your patience and fortitude.

For those of you who just found me today – I hope you will find something of value here on the site, return regularly, andl be encouraged to continue living the most fruitful and rewarding Bariatric After Life possible.

Most of all, to MexiKen, who continues to support and champion me as I forge my way through uncharted terrain, I give all of my love. I literally could not do this without his belief in me. He is my biggest fan (and I am his).

I’m not sure where this whole *thing* will take me, but I know this: Even though I don’t get paid a single penny to do it — but maybe one day will — I will continue to help others. It is my passion and my drug. My reward is knowing that, because I have chosen to be an open book with the online world, I have positively impacted others in ways I never imagined.

Though I have less “free time” than ever before, I am actually “freer” than I’ve ever been in my life, all because I am no longer ruled by “shoulds”, “colds”, “mights” and “musts.”

Thanks to all of you for your continued support, and let’s have fun in year 2!

Now, off to the elliptical!

Rainbows, Unicorns & Myths

TRUE OR FALSE: 50% of all marriages end in divorce. FALSE

How many of you have heard AND REPEATED that statistic?

Well, I’ve got news for you: That supposed statistic is actually a misrepresentation and gross distortion of facts. You can find support for this in about a million locations on the web, but I chose the following site because it clearly explains why the oft repeated divorce statistic is totally untrue:

A false conclusion in the 1970s that half of all first marriages ended in divorce was based on the simple but completely wrong analysis of the marriage and divorce rates per 1000 people in the U.S. A similar abuse of statistical analysis led to the conclusion that 60% of all second marriages ended in divorce.

These errors have had a profound impact on attitudes about marriage in our society and it is a terrible injustice that there wasn’t more of an effort to get accurate data (essentially only obtainable by following a significant number of couples over time and measure the outcomes) or that newer, more accurate and optimistic data isn’t being heavily reported in the media.

It is now clear that the divorce rate in first marriages probably peaked at about 40% for first marriages around 1980 and has been declining since to about 30% in the early 2000s. This is a dramatic difference. Rather than view marriage as a 50-50 shot in the dark it can be viewed as a having 70% likelihood of succeeding.  But even to use that kind of generalization, i.e., one simple statistic for all marriages, grossly distorts what is actually going on.

Source: http://www.drheller.com/divorcemyths.html

• • •

TRUE OR FALSE: Lemmings commit mass suicide by hurling themselves off cliffs and into the water where they drown. FALSE.

According to Wikipedia:

The myth of lemming “mass suicide” is long-standing and has been popularized by a number of factors. In 1955, Disney Studio illustrator Carl Barks drew an Uncle Scrooge adventure comic with the title “The Lemming with the Locket”. This comic, which was inspired by a 1954 American Mercury article, showed massive numbers of lemmings jumping over Norwegian cliffs.[8][9] Even more influential was the 1958 Disney film White Wilderness, which won an Academy Award for Documentary Feature, in which staged footage was shown with lemmings jumping into sure death after faked scenes of mass migration.[10] A Canadian Broadcasting Corporation documentary, Cruel Camera, found that the lemmings used for White Wilderness were flown from Hudson Bay to Calgary, Alberta, Canada, where they did not jump off the cliff, but in fact were launched off the cliff using a turntable.[11]

Because of their association with this odd behavior, lemming suicide is a frequently used metaphor in reference to people who go along unquestioningly with popular opinion, with potentially dangerous or fatal consequences.

In other words, when you say that someone is “like a lemming to the sea” you’re really just saying that they are migratory.

• • •

TRUE OR FALSE: People who get paid for reviews can’t be trusted to give an honest critique. FALSE.

Ahhh, this one is a little harder, right? I mean, if someone (let’s say, a blogger) receives monetary compensation from a company to give an impartial review of their product, the prevailing attitude in the ethosphere seems to be that the blogger can not be trusted. BUT, if they get the product for FREE, then it’s okay. But…wait a minute, isn’t receiving free product COMPENSATION? If that’s the case, then, according to the conventional wisdom, logically, we shouldn’t listen to any blogger who receives product for free because their opinion is being bought and paid for.

But…that doesn’t seem right, I mean, there are so many bloggers out there who spend a lot of time and energy making sure everybody knows they “haven’t been paid to give a review.” In actuality, unless they purchased the product themselves, that’s a misstatement.

Let’s look a little deeper here.

I believe that the misconstrued concept of “not being ‘paid’ for a review” actually comes from the necessity for complete legal disclosure. As a reviewer, many companies require me to DISCLOSE that I was not PAID for my review and received FREE product. Is that so people will trust me? Not at all! It has more to do with compensation, income taxes, accounting, consulting, etc. than it does anything else. If you PAY for someone to advertise for you, that is different than if you GIVE FREE PRODUCT (and receive advertising for it.)

Do you see what I mean?

Clearly, somewhere along the line, someone heard the phrase, “I was not paid for this review,” and decided that it meant something that it didn’t. They determined (incorrectly and illogically) that, since the person wasn’t ‘paid’ (in money) for their review, they were more believable! So began the myth. Just like the inaccurate divorce statistic and lemming mass suicide!

Well, in my case, I AM compensated for every review I do IF I am given free product. Does that mean you shouldn’t listen to me? Does that mean the companies I talk about are BUYING my complimentary reviews? No, it means that legally, they don’t have to declare me as a paid consultant for their company, and that’s about it.

When you think about it, why would it make more sense to listen to someone who isn’t compensated to do what you’re asking them to do?

To me, it doesn’t.

I guess what I’m saying is, if a person is qualified to do something that a company needs, a company can choose to hire that person to perform a service on their behalf.

When did that become a crime? Does a blogger who is monetarily compensated have to wear a scarlet “$” on their chest?

Now, let’s muddy the water a bit. How about critics? Aren’t they paid to do television shows and write newspaper articles about movies, techno-gadgets, cars, or anything else that they review? Think about Roger Ebert, or Leo LaPorte (the tech guy). These guys have television and radio programs where they are PAID to give their OPINIONS about the products they review. Sure, they probably get to watch the movies for free, and they probably get free iPods, cell phones and other gadgets — BUT, the people who broadcast their programs PAY them to do what they do. They are PAID to give their OPINION because it has been proven that they are trustworthy and knowledgeable.

Ultimately, am I more likely to listen to Leo LaPorte, or to my next door neighbor, next time I’m in the market to buy a computer? I’ll probably ASK my neighbor’s opinion (see how he likes his, etc.), but I will give Leo LaPorte’s opinion more weight, because of his technical expertise (and, because he has a good track record). I do not discount his opinion because the radio station pays him to do a show, and I do not value my next door neighbor’s opinion more because it’s free. It actually flies in the face of logic to do that!

So, what about me? In my case, when I am looking for a new protein powder, bar or healthy snack idea, I don’t really care if a reviewer (or blogger) is paid to review it; I care whether my tastebuds AGREE with that reviewer’s taste buds, plain and simple. And, who cares if the opinion I listen to was paid for, lock, stock and barrel by a company?

If I like something, I like it.

But, I’m not done yet.

When did it become accepted practice that reviewers had to automatically give companies FREE advertising for their products?

If I don’t do that, am I bad and wrong?

Am I a better person if I review something FOR FREE?

You know, I’ve actually had people tell me that I’m not too smart for “giving away” my reviews — which is something I don’t agree with, by the way, because I happen to love what I do. I prefer to think of myself as just generous…but if I like something, I like it, and I talk about it. A LOT. That’s because I believe in helping people and companies to succeed.

But, let’s get real! If a company WANTS to pay me to do a review for them, I won’t turn them down, nor will I LIE about my opinion of their product. You can’t buy a lie from Barbie!

Call it full disclosure, but when you hear me say that I receive free product, I’m not saying it so you’ll believe me more. I’m saying it because, legally, I have too And, if someday I get paid for my opinion…I’ll celebrate. Then, I’ll cash the check.

AS MUCH CALCIUM AS A GLASS OF MILK!

(So proclaims the packet of Swiss Miss Hot Chocolate)

What’s your first impression when you read that? If you’re like MOST people, it’s: “Hey, it must be healthy! As much calcium as an entire glass of milk?! Who knew?”

Right.

So, here’s how my little brain works now (because it is skeptical and questioning of EVERYTHING):

1. How BIG a glass of milk? 8 oz.? Too much for me.
2. What TYPE of milk? Skim? Whole?
3. How MUCH calcium is actually in that glass of milk?
4. How much calcium do I NEED each day?

Now, understand that I would never dream of using this product — aside from the fact that it is loaded with sugar, it’s nothing I need — but my point is, in my Bariatric After LIfe™, I have learned to apply the same healthy logic to ALL products — EVEN those targeted directly to us bariatric types!

I guess it’s funny that, in this “sound bite” world where we all have the attention span of fleas sometimes, marketers have learned to whisper nonsense into our ears, and we believe it! Case in point:

• Fat Free! (Not sugar free)
• Low-Calorie! (Not fat free)
• No Added Sugar! (But has sugar)

If there is one thing I hope for all of us, it’s that we learn to ignore the headlines and go immediately to the fine print. Read the “second-to-the-last” paragraph of the article; turn the page; do whatever it takes to get the FULL story. Our bariatric bellies do not forgive us for ignorance of the law; when it comes to our bodies, we will GET exactly what we GIVE.

As much Calcium as an entire glass of milk? Who cares? I take Calcet Bites or chew my Celebrate wafers and do just fine (thank you).

Just some random thoughts for a Wednesday hump day afternoon. Now, off to my mani-pedi.

Epiphany: No WONDER I thought I was fat.

I had a strange little memory while working out on the elliptical this morning. In a flash, I was 8 years old again, and I was in the try-on room at Zody’s (an old store like Kmart). Of course, nothing was fitting, and my mom had to keep sending in bigger and bigger sizes until we found pants that would fit around my sizable rear. Unfortunately, finding something big enough for my “big butt” automatically meant that the waist would be miles too big, since there was no such thing as “spandex,” “elasticized waists” or “drawstrings” in the junior department. My mom would inevitably have to “take it in” and “take it up.”

I concluded that, because nothing fit, I MUST BE FAT.

Who could actually FIT these things...?

...or these?

Now, if you’ve been reading me for any period of time, you’ll know that I’ve lamented about the trauma/drama of not being able to wear the designer jeans of the day (the saddleback Dittos, sailor front Chemin de Fer, and stitched pocket Jordache), and I’ve mentioned that my thighs were too “extreme” for the cute shorts everyone wore (Dolphin and OP, mostly), but it occurred to me this morning that the fact that I couldn’t “FIT” into the über straight cut clothes didn’t make me FAT; it made me CURVY.

It’s a shame I didn’t make that connection back then, because I might have avoided a life of morbid obesity. Unfortunately, the words “curvy” and “pretty” weren’t celebrated on the pages of Teen Dream, 16 and Tiger Beat magazine. No, back in those days, the cover girls we envied were Cheryl Tiegs and Christie Brinkley: Gorgeous, tan, blonde, leggy bombshells who were NOT recognized for any curves below the waistline. And, of course, they were always photographed in bathing suits — another area where I couldn’t find anything that fit, because of the tremendous disparity between my “top” and my “bottom.” And, in case you’re wondering why I was looking to older models for reference, the younger ones CERTAINLY didn’t have curves (or weight problems), either. You had Tatum O’Neal, Kristy McNicol and Valerie Bertonelli (who, as we since learned, did battle her weight, but it never showed in her jeans, and no one ever talked about it!) Great choices for a curvy kid, right?

Essentially, because of the barrage of messages from the media – which was still recovering from the days of Twiggy, thank you very much, plus, a dearth of curvy role models (Sophia Loren? Marilyn Monroe? Where were you?), my conclusion that I was FAT was not unnatural or unexpected; it was just unfortunate.

Of course, now that I’m happily enjoying the Bariatric After Life™ and can easily fit into things “off-the-rack” it would be easy to say that I’ll never have self-doubt again. But, trust me, I still have trouble with things being small — only now, it’s UP TOP! (Juniors don’t have a C-Rack) I’m just saying

Fortunately, because of my therapy, constant self-analysis, self-correction, and emotional clarity, when something DOESN’T fit, I no longer conclude that there must be something wrong with ME. I now see that my body is as unique as I am, and the clothing I wear does not DEFINE me; it merely reflects my personality and zest for life.

How sad that it took nearly 40 years for that message to sink in, but how glorious that it didn’t take 40 more!

How about you? Was there a defining moment in your life that set the wheels for obesity in motion?

HEALING: How can you forgive me if I can’t forgive myself?

FORGIVENESS. This word has been making quite an appearance in my life over the course of the past month or so, but not in ways I’d have imagined. You see, when I see or hear the word “FORGIVENESS,” I always think of it from the perspective of ME forgiving someone ELSE. I rarely think of someone ELSE needing to forgive ME, and NEVER think of ME forgiving MYSELF. Yet, those last two scenarios are precisely where I have found myself lingering — or should I say marinating?

It all started when I began to connect the dots between what I had always BELIEVED about myself, vs. what I have recently LEARNED to be the truth. Unfortunately, as with many self-epiphanies, the reality is a far cry from the fantasy.

For years, I always believed that I was a “nice” person. You know, generous, compassionate, nurturing…NICE. Well, as I’ve evolved in my Bariatric After Life™, I’ve come to learn a few things about myself that would seem to fly in the face of those descriptors. In high school, if you asked any of my friends how they’d describe me, they’d probably have said, “funny, creative, outgoing, and sweet.” They’d also all have agreed that I was “most likely to fall in love, get married, and raise a big family.” This is probably because I was so “in love with love.” Maybe that’s where I got the idea that I was a “loving” person. Was I really just lovable? Hard to say. And compassionate? I think I always confused “compassion” with “sympathy” or “empathy,” but I can’t be sure. I say this, because I always seemed to deeply “FEEL” others’ emotions and sensations, but did that make me compassionate or nurturing toward them, or just understanding?

Whatever the case, I did fall in love, married an amazing man, and gave birth to a pretty incredible daughter. Unfortunately, the pregnancy was really rough, and the postpartum depression was crippling. I began to beat myself up because I wasn’t living up to my expectations as a wife and mother. Heck, I couldn’t even be “pregnant” like a normal woman, what made me think I could be a good mom? Basically, in those early years, I couldn’t stand my daughter, felt guilty about it, and ran away to my job, convincing myself that I was doing the best thing for my family by being a good provider.

Of course, the harder I worked, the less satisfied I was with myself, I got fatter and fatter, my relationship with my daughter worsened, and my marriage deteriorated. It took 2 years (and 70 pounds) to finally be diagnosed with major depressive late luteal phase disorder and be placed on medication. But of course, by that time, the damage was done. I hated myself for letting everyone around me down, and the only way I knew to feel better was to bury myself in school and work. That’s because those things gave me instant gratification: “Hey! Great paper — you get an A!” “Good job on that assignment, here’s a raise!” You don’t get certificates, pay raises, and letter grades for being a good wife and mother, but I didn’t realize I was chasing that affirmation. Again, I thought I was doing a good thing for my family.

Fast forward 17 years and about 160 pounds. I’d been doing work to try and fix myself and my marriage, and tried to be a better mom, but I was carrying colossal guilt, had been diagnosed with fibromyalgia, and was just plain sick and tired of being sick and tired. I felt worthless, disappointed, guilty and cheated.

Fortunately, I learned about gastric bypass surgery and was granted the gift in December 2007.

What I didn’t realize then, was how much guilt I’d be left with, even after shedding as much as 180 pounds. I thought I’d done the emotional work and would now just have to do the “physical work” to tie the two parts together, but nothing could be further from the truth. The slimmer and healthier I got, the more clear the truth became: I was responsible, in large part, for my obesity and had been living in denial about my role for my entire life. I began to feel guilty for not appreciating life when I was younger, and always believing I was fat or less-than. I began to feel guilty for not being active and doing physical things to get in shape. I began to feel guilty for basically trashing an amazing life I’d been given by God. Oh yes, and I began to feel guilty for not being the mother or wife I believed I should have been.

It’s really hard to forgive yourself when you are buried by guilt, and even harder to let OTHERS forgive you.

But you know what? I believe that my total healing from obesity will only begin when I am able to forgive myself and let others forgive me. As a recovering perfectionist, this is a challenging task, but one that I am meeting head-on every day. Part of my recovery is coming from talks with my therapist, but also from my supportive hubby (MexiKen) and with my beautiful (and forgiving) daughter, who sweetly told me that she didn’t think I was “as bad a mom” as *I* thought I was. God love her — she’ll learn (LOL).

So, if I had to summarize this long-winded post on forgiveness, here is what I would tell you: I have learned that obese people have a LOT of guilt. They blame themselves for their obesity; they blame themselves because they are cut-off from friends and loved ones; they blame themselves because they stop living. Ultimately, they blame themselves because they abuse, misuse and take for granted the precious gift of life entrusted to them, and they don’t believe they deserve the second chance that bariatric surgery provides.

As I stand here today, living a full and active Bariatric After Life™, I realize that there is still much work to be done — only it isn’t going to be losing weight or inches, building muscles, or hiking, biking or walking farther.

No, the work I need to do is on my heart, for that is where the forgiveness resides.

So, here’s what I’ve begun to do: Each morning, before I rise, I say positive and motivating affirmations out loud.

I say: I forgive myself for not being perfect; I forgive myself for not being healthy for so many years; I forgive myself for not being a perfect mother or wife. I forgive myself for not being the person I believed I was. Today, I will work hard to be the best person, wife and mother I am capable of being, and will work to improve the things I don’t like about myself.

Today, I will let others forgive me and I will forgive myself.

I hope you can forgive me for writing this long posting, but clearly, it was about 38 years in the making.