Friday, April 8, 2011

Annnnnnnnd we're back!

Ten years ago, when I moved to LA to fulfill my dream of working for Disney, I arrived weighing no less than 365 pounds. Much of that weight was packed on with unholy stress eating before I moved. Let's just say that the mac N cheese and chicken finger diet wasn't exactly a magical journey to a healthy bod.

Shortly before I moved, I had come down to Anaheim to a preview of Disney's California Adventure. Upon having not been able to get on the Maliboomer (an attraction, I believe, is now gone), I swore that I would lose enough to ride that ride within the year and set upon that path. From February of 2001 to May of 2001, I worked out like a fiend, followed the Suzanne Sommers program of eating, and lost about 45 pounds. Suddenly I could fit on the ride and there was much rejoicing in the land. Oddly enough, however, I was still wearing the same size clothes and had hit a hell of a plateau at 313 that lasted for months and my post 911 depression didn't help much. I gained it all back. It wasn't until I fell in love with my ex “fiance” that I started dropping the weight again, seemingly effortlessly (effortlessly meaning that we ate really healthy, quality foods while we were together and also put each other through some of the most gut wrenching stress imaginable – its hard to know which was more effective). By the time I finally got him to move out, I was at the lowest weight I've seen since I was 21 ...285. The idea that I should hit that in a couple of months, at this rate, fully blows my mind and if you've been keeping up with my journey, it's not exactly been like skipping through a frickin' field of daisies.

When I got to that weight the last time, there was still a lot of crap rattling around in my emotional cache that I hadn't even begun to address, much less eradicate. When my relationship was ending, I made a decision to eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted and to hell with trying to get thin for some man. The last thing I wanted was a man to so much as LOOK at me, much less want to get together with me and dictate my eating habits by suggesting that his future and image were threatened by my flabby ass. Naturally the irony is that my ex completely changed careers toward the end of our relationship and is now enjoying the longest string of success he's probably had since he left college and his image means absolutely nothing to that success. But for me, living in LA and being largely attracted to more creative types, that bullshit coming back to bite me was just inevitable. And baby, it's been back time and again. There's nothing like getting to know an amazing man who happens to be in the entertainment industry and finding out that his major fatal flaw, is that he wouldn't date me because it could ruin his image. That is not to say they don't find me attractive. They do. They just wouldn't dare admit it to their friends, their agent, who the hell ever they feel like they need to impress.

Yes... this place really IS like that.

My plan backfired. I gained a shitload of weight, got super busy, got older, got wobbly and achy and subsequently heavier and heavier. I've made some really dumb decisions in my life. Some of them have cost me tons of money, jobs, friends, lovers... but deciding to gain weight to keep men away from me was not only totally ineffective, it was potentially fatal.

I may have a post on here that mentions all of this, but frankly... its worth RE-mentioning. Why? Because as we all know, the stuff of life is about a series of choices. I've been questioning this one, despite the positive results (just because it makes me feel craptastic). If I have one piece of advice that will keep you from ever having to get to the scary place I've been, it's this: “Act... don't react.” Before you do anything drastic out of emotional, mental, or any other kind of heightened distress, consider the consequences and the possibility that shit may go down in your life that will make it hard to take your choice back.

Twenty more pounds, and I'll never see the top side of 300 again. I can't flippin' WAIT!

Monday, April 4, 2011

What did I DO?

A month into the new journey or weight loss surgery, I have all kinds of crap rattling around in my head and my heart and I guess it was time that I get off my ass and share some of it. Here goes.

First, I just want to start off by saying that having the surgery was the right decision for me in a number of ways. It truly had to happen. I spent too much time losing a giant amount of weight, only to still be wearing the same clothes, unable to see any results other than what was on the scale, and feeling like I would never see the end of the struggling portion of the show. My usual cut off was about 70 pounds. Seventy pounds is a HELL of a lot of weight for ANYONE to lose! But for me, it barely scratched the surface. I would lose hope, then momentum, then interest. Part of the plan with this surgery, was to literally ensure that I couldn’t “give up.” I now have a bit of a failsafe, in that I will literally become violently ill if I try to eat craptastic food that’s no good for me. For chrissakes, I get sick even when I eat what’s GOOD for me!

Now all that said, I’ve spent the last week wondering, “WHAT THE HELL DID I DO TO MYSELF?!” Sure, I’ve lost quite a bit of weight so far. People who see me say it’s really noticeable. I guess it must be, since I can sit comfortably in my jeans for the first time since I purchased them six years ago. Oh yeah, I’ve not been comfy in these damned things for SIX YEARS! That’s a long time to wait to fit into one’s clothes. At any rate, yes… I’m noticing. Still, getting thinner wasn’t the ultimate goal. Getting healthy and literally lighter is the ultimate goal. Losing my taste for food was not the plan. Being unable to consume virtually anything at the moment, is pissing me off in the most profound ways. And right now, I have ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD to think about how much that sucks. I try not to. I’m just sayin’…

I’m sure that there will be some who will read this and say, “What did you expect?!” Really… I didn’t expect water to make me nauseous. I love water! It shows in my gorgeous skin. Now, water makes me sick and actually hurts to drink. I know that will pass but having to get in 48 to 64 ounces is definitely not happening because of how drinking makes me feel. I expected to feel full fast, and considered that to be the ultimate plus side to this plan. Yup, I sure do feel full fast. That’s if I am able to stomach what food I actually manage to keep down. I’m not throwing up a lot, but just sitting here an trying to think of more than one thing I’ve eaten since the surgery that didn’t have a few moments of “uh oh” is difficult. While I am craving things like salads and steak (which I cannot have), the idea of eating virtually anything, no matter what, makes me nauseous.

The thing is, I truly enjoy eating delicious food. Flavor, to me, is worth living for. It’s not about eating copious amounts of fattening foods, or greasy crap, or even sweets. It thrills me that eating In N Out would make me vomit immediately! Keeps me from thinking I should EVER put it in my body again and that‘s super okay with me! In fact, I’d rather eat a light pasta dish over cheesecake any day of the week (both are off the menu for at least the next two years). My friend Stephanie makes this avocado and spinach salad that I’ve been craving since I had it a year ago, and I would blow chunks if I even attempted it! That blows!!! I’m craving salad like nobody’s business!

Lets face it, for most of the last 30 years, my eating habits haven’t been about focused on flavor and the consumption of “good” food (when I could and did eat “good food“ regularly, I lost weigh like a mad woman - finances have made that more than a little difficult). It’s been largely about eating what I could afford and filling the enormous hole in my gut. That’s a HUGE change and one that’s becoming excruciating to deal with at the moment.

But… one hurdle at a time, no?

Soothing myself has taken on a whole new unpleasant tone. Nothing soothes me right now. The sensation of flavor and texture in some foods used to be the only thing I had to do that (and have been using it for that reason since I was little). Just the sound of stirring macaroni was like a lullaby to my nerves. People see me as an extremely difficult person to console or comfort so I don‘t get a whole lot of it. So here I am going through one of the biggest changes of my life and I took away my only easy calmer. Every day, I have to talk myself out of thinking I screwed up my life by having this surgery. Last Friday I sat in my therapist’s office crying my eyes out and saying, “Every time I try to make a decision to make my life better, I end up making it ten times worse! I no longer trust my own decisions!”

His response was, “REALLY?! But you made the right decision for the right reason! That‘s the least screwed up thing you‘ve done since we met!” I’d love to say that makes me feel better. I’m positive it will and I will look back on this time and be glad I somehow made it through. Right now, I feel like beating myself up and several times a day, I spend all my energy stopping the urge.

On the plus side, I have certainly noticed is that I feel foolish for insisting on the full fat or full sodium versions of certain foods, now that I’ve become accustomed to them. Low Sodium V8... Frickin’ delicious! WTF?! Why didn’t I keep a bottle of this in the fridge at work ALL ALONG?! Tell you what, I’m gonna now! Texturally speaking, yes… lo-fat cream of chicken soup is funky. But my usual application for it is to make greek lemon chicken soup. Aside from the fact that I cannot have rice, I cannot imagine that the difference would be detectible now. Still… there’s not a whole lot of options right now for flavor. I’m in the “soft foods” phase of my post surgical diet. Mashed potatoes, refried beans, laughing cow cheese, scrambled eggs are largely what I’m living on right now. I’m gonna get REALLY CREATIVE before this is over! If I wasn’t sick to damned death of chicken broth I‘d make a kick ass chicken soup (the idea of it makes me want to barf right now, since I got so pumped full of IV fluids and broth the day after my surgery that it made me ill for a week and a half).

So to answer your question of “How are you doing?” That’s how I’m doing. I’m fine. I’m sad, I’m nervous, I’m excited, I’m impatient. I’m also broke, or I’d be in San Jose giving and receiving boatloads of love. And friends, friends, friends… as always you keep me sane, keep me from losing my hope, remind me that I am loved and cared for. Even if the darkest moments of doubt and fear, knowing you are there, backing me, keeps me going. Thank you! Thank you… THANK YOU!!!