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.

Obsessively addicted to shows about obsessive addictions

I watch Intervention and Obsession on A&E all the time. I think I might be obsessively addicted to them, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing, or a bad thing.

As a food addict and a binger, I see a lot of myself in the people on the shows, and sometimes it scares me. I find myself wishing that I could be swept away to some 30- or 90-day recovery program where I could kick the food habit, once and for all. But, I realize that’s not going to happen and, at least as far as I can tell, my friends and family are not covertly planning any “meetings” for me….

You know, the dangerous thing about being a gastric bypass person who is also a bingeing food addict is that it’s easy to “justify” my addiction by telling myself things like:

• I don’t hurt my family
• I’m not spending money I don’t have on junk food
• No one is affected by my addiction
• My addiction is not illegal
• I can do my addiction in front of anyone, and I won’t get arrested
• I need food to live, but other addicts can survive without alcohol, drugs, gambling or shopping.

In other words, I tell myself all kinds of lies (with varying degrees of truth to them), and I come out being a good person who just so happens to like to eat too many (insert junk food item here) sometimes.

I guess what I’m saying is, whenever I watch Intervention or Obsession, I find myself shaking my head and talking to the TV, reacting to the absurd things that come out of addicts’ (and their loved ones’) mouths. I say things like,

“Are you KIDDING ME? You think you aren’t hurting anybody but yourself?”
“You think your addiction/obsession is your own problem?”
“You think giving the addict money or turning the other way is showing them love?”

Oh boy. it’s so clear when I see it on TV, and then then instant the self-incrimination starts to set-in, I just conveniently press the “Play” button on the internal recording. Then, everything is okay again.

“I don’t look like those people.”
“I don’t do as much as I did when I weighed 316 pounds”
“I’m not spending money on my addiction; I’m just eating what’s in the cabinet.”
“I am in therapy, so I don’t need an intervention”
“I am not doing anything illegal.”

Somewhere in that mess is the truth, and I’m unearthing it, one, ugly lie at a time. It’s a painful process, and sometimes it takes everything I’ve got NOT to feel like a failure. But then, I have a really good series of days where the Carb Monster is not lurking around every corner, and I’m on the top of my game, eating right, working out, and feeling good. Like today.

How could I be an addict if I still have a job, a life, hobbies and normal social interactions?

Isn’t *THAT* the big question? Stay tuned…

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!

Habits or Behaviors?

I haven’t blogged about therapy in awhile, and I thought I’d take a moment to share what happened on Tuesday morning (I now go Tuesday mornings, instead of Fridays or Thursdays, just so you won’t be confused).

I was talking to Jim about my frustrating — though enjoyable — trip to Mexico to pick up my in-laws. The long and short of it was this: I had packed my protein and told myself that I had everything I needed: Tortilla/Flax/Soy chips, instead of tostadas or corn tortillas; beans, cheese, Greek yogurt — heck, even salsa! For “sweets” I had brought a Power Crunch bar (peanut butter), and I had plenty o’ Protein Blitz and Propel Waters. Even brought a package of Body Tech Pro Pudding. In other words, I left nothing open to chance.

Now, for those of you who might not understand how things roll with Mexican families, when you arrive at a house, you are immediately offered FOOD. Okay, my family understands that I have my own food, and they are not offended that I can’t partake of the pozole (pork and hominy soup), or rice, or fideo (noodle soup). They truly understand and this is wonderful. So, I sat down with a bowl of beans, some of my sister-in-law’s salsa, my Greek yogurt, and a little melted cheese, and life was good. Until she put the stack of warm, fresh, corn tortillas on the table. I lasted…oh…about 5-1/2 seconds. BAM. Knocked back TWO (that I’m willing to admit) in a very short (painfully short) span of time. Yes, my pouch paid the price. But the salsa burned right through it and life was bién (otra véz).

Until the Mexican pastries came to town. Now, I hate Mexican pastries — they are dry and not sweet enough. Except for the stupid cortedillos — which are really nothing more than a trés leches cake with pink frosting and sprinkles. It was my Kryptonite before surgery, and it is still my Kryptonite now. Oh. and the stupid marshmallow cookies. And the iced cookies that I’d never seen before, but had to eat. By the handfuls.

Okay, I think you can see where this went: WILDLY AND UTTERLY OFF THE RAILS.

Thank God I was only there for about 24 hours, that’s all I can say.

Did I mention the churros? Two, DIFFERENT batches of churros? Plucked straight from the hot vat of boiling oil? Yeah, you can’t cross the border without eating them. It’s breaking some immigration law, or something. I’m serious.

Anyway, with that debacle behind me, I sulked my way into therapy and lamented that I was tired of Binge Barbie taking over my life, even though I make all sorts of plans and contingencies to steer clear of the trouble.

Sadly, we (Jim and I) did not arrive at a solution for that problem yet –– (why do they always have to buzz his office to tell him somebody else is waiting in the lobby just when I’m getting to the good stuff?)  –– although I believe we are laying the groundwork for progress and change.

HOWEVER, the session was not a total loss, and one of the things that did come up, was my abject dislike of the term “habits.” I hate that word: HABITS. Whether it’s preceded by the word “bad” (as in bad habits), or “good” (as in — something I am supposed to be creating in my Bariatric After Life.) Pffffttt.

See, I am a skeptic about recovery. That’s just the bottom line. I look at alcoholics and drug addicts, and all I see is a vast majority of people who DON’T “make it” and very, very small minority of people who do. (I am also, apparently, a pessimist about it). Perhaps I should stop watching “Intervention.”

Hmmm…I dunno.

Whatever the case, I tend to look at people who actually remain in recovery from their addictions as the RESULTS-NOT-TYPICAL crowd. I’ve written about this before in regard to my own experience as a post-op. I am a results-not -typical because I (at one point) lost way more than I wanted to. Apparently, I am not generous in my application of that label to all aspects of my life, so deep down (or not so deep down) inside, I have doubts that I will be able to overcome my binge addiction. I bristle when I hear people blithely tell me that “all I have to do is create healthy new habits to replace unhealthy old ones.” As if.

So, one of the ground rules I laid with Jim is the fact that we will NOT be working on developing any sort of habits for me. What we will be doing is establishing new behaviors to replace old ones. Now, that might just sound like simple semantics, but the point of it all is that when I hear the word “habits,” I think of the words “subconscious” or “automatic” — as in, I will learn to “automatically” or “subconsciously” do the right things because they will become HABITUAL to me.

Uh, no.

I believe — and perhaps I am mistaken, and maybe I am selling myself short — but I believe that my bad habits are deeply ingrained because they are LEARNED habits that were created when I was a blank slate. In other words, it was not hard to internalize them, because there was nothing in their place to start with.

Now, at age 43 (and some), to try and create a NEW habit would imply that I am dislodging the OLD habit, and I really don’t believe that is possible. I view it like a chalkboard. You remember how, when the teacher would erase the board to write something new, there would always be chalk residue, and even a little bit of writing left over? (That, by the way, was one of my pet peeves! If there was a HINT of writing left on the board, I would hyperfocus on it to the exclusion of all else on the board. Story for another day.) Okay, so the point of that metaphor is, when you erase the chalkboard, there’s still chalk-residue — old habits that you are trying to overwrite. But you always know there was something else there, and I think that gets in the way of replacing the old habit with a new one.

I believe that the only way I will succeed at beating this binge addiction thing is to reframe my strategy. I can’t comfortably target “subconscious habits” so I’m going to go for new learned behaviors which will never be intrinsic, intuitive, habitual or automated. I will always have to “stop, drop and roll.” You know? Like, stop the bad behavior in its tracks, think about the correct behavior, then implement the new behavior. I don’t really know if I will be able to do this every time, and when I’m not successful, will I just want to stop trying? I don’t know, but one would hope not.

Jim reminded me that, when treating an alcoholic, recovery does NOT necessarily mean complete and total abstinence. This revelation shocked, scared and excited me a bit. I mean, I am a very black and white person. If you’re an alcoholic, then you’re no longer in recovery the minute you take a drink. Black. White. I apply the same (flawed) definition to bingeing. The minute I binge — even a little, it’s all over.

Well, part of my goal is to find techniques to minimize harm from bingeing. Sounds like a tall order, but I’m up for the challenge. Even though I had a bad day yesterday. Ugh. Hey, nobody said it was gonna be easy!

So, that’s what’s been happening in therapy. I have some other thoughts, too, but my brain and fingers are tired for now, so I will blog more later.

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.

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.

No to the Food. Yes to the Feelings.

This afternoon, I was eyeing a box of Sweet Tarts (you know, those silly conversational candy hearts we used to eat on Valentine’s Day?) Why (do you ask) was I ogling a box of candy in the first place? Well, it’s a print job we did, and it is sitting on my sample shelf. (In other words, I didn’t go BUY IT!)

Now, you know the adage: “Old habits die hard…” but, THIS TIME, since returning from the OH Conference this past weekend, I am 100% recommitted to THINKING instead of ACTING. What does that mean? Well, rather than just grabbing for it (out of habit), I THOUGHT about it.

Boy, was I surprised by the thoughts that came to mind:

• Would this make me feel better?
• Would this make me feel better about myself?
• Would this make me FEEL?

No kidding. Just like that. Bam!

In the past, I ate to FEEL BETTER (which, of course, we all know never happened). So ultimately, I would feel BAD about myself, (all because I was avoiding the very act of FEELING…whatever that feeling was…lack of control, depression, sadness, happiness, frustration, stress, boredom.) So, it was a useless cycle of eat-and-feel-bad, eat-and-feel-bad.

Today, in the Bariatric After Life™, instead of just mindlessly EATING, I asked myself that series of questions and the answers were surprisingly simple: No, no, and no. Upon further analysis, I realized that I wanted to eat a box of candies, because I was bored. There’s no other reason. I mean, right now, I’m under a full head of steam. There is so much I want to do, but I can’t do any of it here at the office. The net result is boredom (or at least that what it morphed into.) In the past, whenever boredom happened, I would reach out for something junky to eat. This time, while the motivation was no different, the response sure was.

Fortunately, this time, I was present enough in my thinking to confidently, purposefully, and quite happily say: NO to the Sweet Tarts and YES to the feelings. Yes, I understood that I was bored and frustrated, but how would eating that candy have made me feel in my clothes? Would eating it have magically made me feel better? Of course not! It never did before, so why would it now? You know the definition of insanity, right? Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome.

Well, I FEEL that I made an amazing decision today. I FEEL really good about myself. I FEEL that I can repeat this exercise over and over again…until it becomes habit — and that doesn’t make me insane at all!

• Do you still struggle with the mistaken belief that food will make you feel better?
• Do you struggle with how you feel after you make a poor food choice, then begin to feel bad about yourself?
• Do you FEEL the feelings, or do you self-medicate to numb yourself?

Obviously, these are deep questions with no simple answers — save one: NO.

At least…that seems to be the best and easiest answer to me. So, next time you find yourself in a similar situation, PLAN to deliver that answer with bold, confident gusto:

Will eating this thing make me feel better? NO!
Will eating this thing make me feel better about myself? NO!
Will eating this thing help me to FEEL the feelings? NO!

I don’t know about you, but saying “No” never felt so great.

How do you FEEL about this?

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.