Jenci S.

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Yesterday I turned 31, and I got a new tattoo!
As I mentioned in my last post, my grandpa passed away on the 19th.  At this service a butterfly was flitting around to everyone, and it stayed through the whole service.  I noticed it, but didn't give it much thought at the time.  After the service one of my mom's friends, who I have known for years, came up to me and commented on the butterfly.  Then later my mom said that on the day my grandpa passed my dad picked a towel up off the towel rack in their hotel (they were out of town) and a butterfly flew out of it.  She also didn't think much about it until the service when she realized the butterfly in the hotel appeared right about the time my grandpa passed, and then here was another one at the service.  Needless to say, our family has adopted the butterfly as our universal reminder of my grandpa.  My aunt gave me a butterfly wind chime for my birthday yesterday.  And since my mom's birthday was on Monday she and I went and picked out matching butterfly jewelry for our birthday presents from one another.  Since Sunday I have been planning out a tattoo in my mind, one to remind me of my grandpa.  And what symbol would be a better tribute than a butterfly, right?  So that is what I got.  A new butterfly tattoo on my left wrist.  It is perfect.  Feminine, but not too girlie, after all, it is a remind of my grandpa.  I love it!

Today when I was showing it off around the office it dawned on me that the butterfly is a symbol of rebirth.  You know, a caterpillar is born, lives it's life as a fat rolly polly bug that slowly crawls from one place to another, totally consumed with eating.  Then one day it decides to create a cocoon for itself and it hides away until it's body is transformed into a beautiful butterfly and it is ready to emerge from it's self isolation.  Sound familiar?  It does to me!  I was a caterpillar, trapped in a fat, slow body, I chose RNY surgery, went into semi-hiding, and now, a year and a half later I have emerged as a new version of myself. 

So this afternoon as I stare at my wrist I see not only a reminder of my grandpa and how he is still a constant presence in my life, but I see a new version of the woman I once was.  One who is strong, confident, and capable of anything she puts her mind to.

Tomorrow I will be 31, and I am ok with that!  For once in my life I feel beautiful.  Inside and out.  I have friends in my life that are supportive of where I have been, who I am, and where I am going.  I have two amazing boys who know me as I am now, and not as a mom who wouldn't get off the couch to tuck them in at night.  I have a husband who saw me when I was invisible, and who sees me still.  My career is on an upward swing, I am being given more responsibility which is exciting and scary all at the same time.  I am ok turning 31 tomorrow.

Now it is time to move on to the real reason I am posting today.  My grandpa.  He passed away one week ago yesterday.  We had his service on Sunday out at the family ranch.  It was beautiful!  A fantastic tribute to an amazing man.  Here is a bit of background, I have always loved to sing.  My father's favorite story is of being mortified in Long John Silvers when he realized he wasn't only hearing the radio playing a Kenny Rogers song, but he was hearing his daughter singing along at the top of her lungs in the bathroom to the Kenny Rogers song.  Through the years I have grown more confident in my abilities and for a while sang every day in various choirs (high school, college, church), and was given a few solos over the years.  Despite my talent, and the kudos of those around me I never felt comfortable singing in front of an audience.  I felt like my voice was the one thing that was beautiful about me, the one thing I could protect from criticism, so I didn't want to put it out there.  Weird, I know.  So whenever I got up to sing in front of people I was nervous, nervous I wasn't good enough, and nervous that all eyes would be on me, so I never felt I did my best.  I sang at my step-grandma's funeral, and at my great Aunt's funeral along with my cousins, each time I was nervous and overly concerned about my appearance.  So when my mom asked me to sing at my grandpa's service on Sunday I realized my first thoughts didn't go to how I would look up there, but to the lack of time I would have to practice.  What a mind shift!  In the end I didn't feel I could make it through an entire song without crying so I opted to write a speech and add some song clips in as part of the speech.  It worked beautifully!  I sang part of "Count Your Blessings", and "Oh Danny Boy."  I wasn't self conscious, and by the response I got (applause), and the praise I received afterward I think I did excellent, and made my grandpa proud.

It has been an emotional week.  And I am sure the emotions will continue to fluctuate as time progresses, but for now I know my grandpa is counting me as one of his blessings too.  :)

Don't be afraid of it.  Do it.  If you have lost over 100 pounds or are close to your goal, submit before and after pics. 

Personally, I am not really thinking of the picture I took today as my after photo because who knows if I am done losing.  I decided to submit it because I am proud of where I have come from, and want other people to see my success and know they can do the same thing.

I am not perfect.  My weight loss journey has not been perfect.  But it has been enlightening.  In so many ways.  I am healthier now than I have been since I was on swim team and played soccer in elementary school. 

I can walk up the stairs or the up the grade in my parking garage and not lose my breath.  I no longer search out the closest parking spot when shopping (searching out the shade is a different story, that will never die).  I go try on clothes (in an actual department store!) and am not bright red and covered in sweat when I get done trying everything on.  I get ready in the morning and don't walk out of my house sweating from all the exertion it takes to take a shower, do my hair, makeup, get dressed and get two boys out the door.  I walk to the Farmer's Market on my lunch.  I take my boys to the park.

I have become more aware of what goes in my mouth, and think about the nutritional value of everything that crosses my lips.  Some days are better than others when it comes to turning away from the non-nutritional items, but that is ok.  This is my life.  My intake is restricted so I need to make sure I am taking in protein, protein, protein first and foremost.  Then comes everything else.  I know I only have so much room in my pouch and that if I don't eat the protein I will get sick, weak, and possibly even throw-up.  Once again, this doesn't mean I am perfect.  But I can't claim ignorance anymore. 

So for me this journey is never ending, and there will never be an after.  But today, after losing so much weight I am confident that I can submit an "after" photo and know it is a true representation of what the gift of RNY has made possible for me in my life.

So for the last nine months I have been telling everyone who wants to know, "I've lost 160+ pounds."  Awesome.  160+ pounds gone is an amazing achievement.  But this morning I got to thinking and realized that is what I've lost since I began the journey which led me to going through with gastric bypass surgery.  My highest weight ever was 365, so that means I have lost 180 pounds!  Holy goodness!  I've lost almost as much as I currently weigh!  Ah-maze-ing!

So from now on when folks ask how much weights I've lost I can honestly say, 180 pounds! 

This morning I posted on my Facebook page "Thankful to be down 180".  And I truly am.  To think back on all the limitations, real or imagined, I had back then I am left speechless.  Not knowing if I would be able to fit into a chair, or booth.  Thinking I could squish between people only to realize, no, not only could I not squish but squishing wouldn't even begin to help with the passage.  Knowing I could only shop in Lane Bryant when going to the mall was heartbreaking.  And then when I was unable to even shop in the store, and only on-line, I just kept going.  Man. 

So when I look in the mirror and see the flubber, the lose skin, and the bulges, I have to remind myself of where I have been, where I will never be again, and how "thin" I am now compared to the person I have been since 1995.  Ah-maze-ing!  And remembering I used to wear a tight size 32, and now wear a semi-tight 12, will be key in keeping it all in perspective!