Six Years Post-op

Jul 07, 2010

7/6/10

Here I am....6 years post-op.  It has been a long road for sure.  My weight has crept up 20 pounds the past 4 years.  And honestly, I feel it.  I feel fat.  Imagine that?  Coming from 432 pounds to 180 pounds and I feel FAT now.  It is quite disheartening and discouraging.  I have clothes that no longer fit.  I feel like I did many years ago as my waistline expanded and my closet slowly filled with items made for a thinner man.  

My appetite and my laziness are my biggest foes.  I feel hungry all of the time and still eat to fill an emotional need.  I feel a longing to get back to my weight of 3 years ago.  I felt better and looked better then.

Something I have noticed changing of late (besides my every growing ass) is that my legs are beginning to bother me again.  They are turning red and ache, much like pre-surgery.  

Otherwise, my health remains well.  Six years out and my DS hasn't killed me yet.

2/14/11

It is odd to re-read some of my past posts and think of the person I was then.  I still have weight issues.  I still have insecurities and doubts.  I still have medical problems, though nothing like I had before.  But it is amazing how far I have come in some ways, and not others. 

I still feel like the "hunger monster" still rules me and I catch myself occasionally giving in to its obsessions.  Food continues to be a source of comfort and "identity" for me....at least on the surface.  I think it is more of a mechanism that contributes to the disease (much like a person with low self-esteem will unconsciously seek out an abusive mate to reinforce the low self-esteem).  I'm not sure if this will ever be different.  I think I can appreciate a drug addict trying to spend their lives post-recovery.  The "itch" is always there.

Shockly, though, I am spending my second Valentine's Day in a row with the same person.  This is a first for me.  She is quite opposite of me, having spent her life being underweight instead of overweight.  She fights to keep her weight up (hell to her, but sounds like Mecca to me).  And with all of the screwed up things spinning around in my head, she has managed to stick around this long.  Either a testiment to her fortutude, my recovery, or she's simply masochistic.  

Funny how just a few years ago, I posted on how I spent Valentine's Day in the doctor's office getting Viagra pens.  Now I go to the doctor's only when I feel it necessary and not as part of my routine.  I did spend the night in the hospital before Christmas with chest pains, but all of my tests came back ok.  Just a little reminder of past sins....and to take better care of myself.

I'm sure nobody reads this any longer.  I seldom lurk on the chat rooms any longer and I update this thing only on occassion.  But....if you are out there.....I hope it has helped in some small way.  Things will get better...but there is no magic pill.  There is no perfect medicine.  This is not a fix...only a patch.   Just be sure to keep up the stitchings.

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