horizon
Months 1-3.5 (October, 2005 through early February, 2006)
I have so much to say that I am going to bed.
Month 4 (February, 2006)
So. Four months later, and I'm finally starting to eat solid food. Sort of. I'm back in the SemiSoft Food phase after having a stricture dilated. Yuk. The good news is that I'm down 85 pounds. Yikes.
And I'm getting stronger. In December, I lifted the equivalent of 3.9 elephants (African). I just got the FitLinxx email: in January I lifted 15.0. Whoa.
Still Month 4:
Things I Want To Do Thinner.
1. Walk without pain—Done!
2. Belly dance
3. Wear cute things --Done!
4. Shop at Bebe and other boutique/designers --Done!
5. Go to Disneyland --Done!
6. Fly on a plane without embarrassment --Done!
7. Drive with a seat belt--Done!
8. Sit in one of those ubiquitous small resin patio chairs, without having to extract it from my butt when I stand up—Done!
9. Make love from the On-Top position--Done!
10. Have a correct weight on my driver’s license--Done!
11. Get a pap smear--Done!
12. Have a new passport picture taken
13. Have a new driver’s license picture taken--Done!
14. Have new portraits taken
15. Have new head shots taken
16. Show off to people I used to know, like ex-boyfriends (evil grin) --Done!!
17. Go out in public wearing shorts --Done!
18. Wear midriff/muscle tops while working out (without embarrassment, obviously)
19. Have Mark lift me and carry me someplace
20. Buy and wear a bikini
21. Get the tattoo re-inked into something that’s meaningful *now*
22. Go to a clothing optional facility, and leave the clothes in the locker room
23. Walk at Faire
24. Attend Gilroy Garlic Festival --DONE!!
25. Attend the Lavender Festival in Sequim, WA
26. Go to the theatre in San Francisco
27. Also the opera
28. Walk at Monterey Bay Aquarium and also Cannery Row
29. Hike in the mountains
30. Take a long walk on the beach
31. Santa Cruz Boardwalk (amusement park)
32. Walk at the mall and shop there too without having to sit down every few feet; be able to get back to the car without having to make Mark go get the car and drive back to me -- Done!
33. Release all fear of chairs with arms --Done!
34. Climb a flight of stairs without huffing and puffing -- Done!
35. Climb two or more flights of stairs. Period --Done!
36. Camping and hiking
37. Walk around tourist traps anywhere
38. Walk in Europe
39. Walk across the Golden Gate Bridge
40. Go to Hawaii
41. Go to Australia
42. Dress for Success: wear nice suits --Done!
43. Be able to cross my legs --Done!
44. Sit on Mark’s lap--Done!
45. Walk all of downtown San Rafael (it’s not that far, but it’s been a bugaboo)--Done!
46. Scuba dive somewhere – in one of those tight neoprene suits
47. Walk Muir Woods – Done!
48. Ride a Horse
*****
Month 5 (March, 2006)
It was on my list, and now I can cross it off:
I've had my pap smear at long last. And I'm sobbing uncontrollably, not because of pain or anything like that, not even because she told me straight out I'm probably menopausal, but because it's been so stupid long since I've had one. I tried to figure out when my last one was. It may have been just before I left Planned Parenthood -- that was in 1991.
The doctor today asked me in an accusatory, chiding tone: "Why has it been 15 years since your last pap smear?" I looked her right in the eye and said, "because I weighed 350 pounds." She blinked, confused, and asked what that had to do with anything.
"You've never weighed 350 pounds, have you?" I said before I could stop myself. I mean, it's humiliating enough to spreadeagle 'em when you're of normal weight--try climbing onto the table, scooting down, opening yer thighs wide enough for the doctor to get in there; the impossibility of a decent pelvic exam (dam! where the hell are dem ovaries anyhow??) -- do any of those things at *any* weight beyond about 250 (if you even *can*), and they'll talk about you. The doctor will be disgusted, whether or not s/he shows it.
In fact, I think my own doctor was disgusted. He wanted me to see somebody else for my pap -- *anybody* else, but because he couldn't stand to do one, I assumed nobody else would either.
"I was ashamed," I told her, and she seemed to soften a bit.
Still, I hadn't realized how close to the surface all that shame would be. I'm sobbing, and I'm not sure why.
I'm feeling a little bit ashamed now, too. I mean, when I worked at Planned P'hood, I would have had no patience for women who put off their paps, for whatever reason. "What?" I would have chided, "You think fat people don't get cancer?" And yet. Do as I say, I guess, not as I do. Yeah.
So. Cross that one off the list, and journal what demons it raised. That's my advice to you, Horizon-girl. And save the whining about "it's so not fair! Menopause? When I'm only just now starting to feel alive and sexy?!" for another post. Or for the privacy of your own journal.
327/228
(can that be right?! 99 pounds gone?! Yikes! and Yippee!)
*****
Month 6: April 2006
This weekend when cooking I tied my apron around the front. I'd done this before, but this time I really noticed: I'd wrapped the ties around the back and tied at the front, like I used to do when I was thinner and catering. It's astonishing how good so simple a thing can feel.
Later in April...
Today I was out shopping, when a clerk estimated my size at a "Medium." My smile must have lit the whole city. Me, a Medium? Awww... Lady, you have no idea how happy you've just made me. Can anyone who's never been FAT understand this? Here's a store clerk who's never seen me before, and she thinks I wear a size Medium. She asks me about it just as if I've been this size my whole life or something. "You're a Medium, right?" Like I'd know. Heck, it wasn't that long ago I wore XXL's and XXXL's.
I've reached my Happy Place and I'm still feeling pretty good about it. After all my fussing and screeching back there with the stricture, months 1-4, I'm finally glad I had this surgery.
327/209
(gadzooks! 118 pounds are *gone* -- holy cats!)
June, 2006
Eight months post-op
We’ve just come back from a week in Southern CA, where I discovered I could check off several new items from my list.
We flew Southwest Airlines, the self-same bastids who once insisted I buy two tickets due to some nebulous and inadequately defined “company policy” that boiled down to “you’re too fat for our plane.” This time, not only did I not require two seats, or a seatbelt extender, but I was actually able to tighten that seatbelt several inches.
That first day, through 2 airports and 2 Disney parks, we walked almost 5 miles. We did not rent a wheelchair or a scooter once during our 3 days at the Disney resort. I rode Indiana Jones without pain or discomfort. I sat on the ground for “Fantasmic,” and hardly complained. I sat in chairs with arms, and didn’t even wince. I discovered I could go through the turnstiles without turning sideways, although I didn’t realize it right away.
One night, we went to “House of Blues” for dinner, and afterwards bought a pair of size Small boxer shorts in the gift shop. I wore them as jammies every night thereafter. The shirts I was buying were pink and soft and not a one over size Medium.
On Friday, when we hooked up with family and friends (mine) for dinner, I tried on Mark’s jeans – and they fit! I wore to dinner a lovely dress from Nordstrom’s, which when Mark bought it for me on Valentine’s Day fit like a glove but which by June had room to spare. No one present, except for Mark, had seen me for more than a year. My mom came to the hospital eight months ago, but hadn’t seen more than photos of my progress. By the time we reunited, I was 135 pounds smaller. No one recognized me. My own sister had to have me pointed out to her. There was a lot of furtive staring all through dinner, I can tell you.
I had heels in my suitcase for the next day, when Mark’s son was to graduate from UCLA (our stated purpose for the Southward Visit), and a dress guaranteed to wow anybody looking at it – or mostly Mark and my mirror, which were all that mattered. Heels! I haven’t worn high heels for 15 years or more. Granted, I wasn’t able to wear them for long – the arthritis in my feet was improved but not erased after surgery – but that I wore them at all is amazing to me. Oh, and by the way, the dress is a size 12. I want to leave a moment of silence for that.
The dress, from Nordstrom, covered all over with sequins and pink sparkles, is a size 12.
I’ve been racking my brain to remember, and for the life of me I’m sure that the last dress I had in a size 12 was my Girl Scout uniform. Twelve was also my age.
People responded to me differently this trip. Strangers smiled at me. Men smiled and sent glances up and down my body, front and rear (reported Mark, who watched). Mark’s ex-wife, with whom we necessarily dined on graduation night, pulled out all the stops to prove her superiority – and she didn’t quite make it. She couldn’t be physically superior this time, because I was no longer the grotesquely fat slob she met a year ago but instead a younger woman with a lovely face – along with the intellectual and emotional candy I bring to the table and always did. Nyeah.
But that’s enough for now. I looked great, and I did a great job at staying healthy. There was that one big scare Thursday morning, when I passed out in the restaurant; my doctor’s office, called from Disneyland’s First Aid station, described it as a severe dumping episode. Yikes. I don’t want that again. This reaffirms what I’ve been saying since 3 weeks after surgery: take nothing for granted.
Otherwise, the trip was fabulous. I have some great new clothes, I learned a lot about how to get along in the world when nobody knows you used to be fat, and I’m looking forward to the next big reveal.
August, 2006 (10 months post-op)
I've lost 146 pounds as of August 1 (21 more shopping days til my birthday!)
Mark and I went to the Garlic Festival in Gilroy this past weekend. For the record, no vampires were sighted.
I had to share this encounter. At some point, we made our way over to a T-shirt booth, because we're *tourists* dammit that's what tourists do, where a nice and "normal" sized woman wore a version of the shirt I wanted. In deciding what size I should buy, she handed me a Medium. "Are you sure?" I asked. It looked *really* small, see. She pointed to her own shirt and said, "this one's a Large, and it fits me really well. You'll need a Medium, because you're smaller than I am." [emphasis added]
Dudes, I wanted to kiss her full on the lips. All day long, no matter how tired my poor lil feet got, no matter how low my blood sugar or how annoying the crowds, all I had to do was replay "you're smaller than I am," and I got the goofiest smile all over my face.
So: I can cross "Go to Gilroy Garlic Festival" off my list. I can also feel really good about the fact that normal-sized people, some of 'em, think they're bigger than I am. Not only am I not the biggest person in the room anymore, I'M NOT THE BIGGEST PERSON IN THE ROOM ANYMORE!! ya know?
August 10, 2006. Ten months after surgery. Weight: 177. 150 pounds lost. Wow.
September, 2006. Weight loss slowing somewhat, but no less impressive. At 11 months postop, I've lost a total of 157 pounds. I'm wearing a size 10, something that's never been in my closet ever. Again: wow. I've got my yearly appointment set for next month, and I have an idea I'd like to lose about 6 more pounds by then. Wouldn't it be cool to have lost half my body weight in a single year? Won't Dr. Elliott be surprised and pleased with my progress? Why yes I believe he will.
Here's an interesting wow moment. Consider this picture: 2 years ago, I'm sitting in a wheelchair at the airline's gate, waiting to pre-board. An employee of the airline tells me in her oh so subtle way that I'm too fat for their plane and I'll have to buy a second ticket. Fast-forward to Sept, 2006. I'm still in a wheelchair, but this time I'm on the plane and an employee of the airline tells me I'm "too skinny" for the seatbelts. Mark (my partner) and I exchange a knowing look. "Ironic," we both say together.
October, 2006. One year later.
Although my *actual* anniversary happened on October 10, I'm seeing my surgeon (yo, Dr. Elliott!) tomorrow the 20th, and so am totting up the changes I've seen over the intervening year.
Primary among these, of course, is that I'm far smaller than I was a year ago. I was hoping to have lost another 6 1/2 pounds by tomorrow, so I could say "I've lost half my body weight!" Alas, I'm only *almost* half my former self. Still, 157 pounds in a year is nothing to sneeze at. I think he'll be impressed; I know *I* am.
I've gone from a tight 24 to a solid 10, and while I have (finally) begun to "suffer" from the dreaded plateau, I'm also aware that those size 10's are starting to bag a bit, so I'm sure that I'm still shrinking, even if the scale stays stubbornly put. Imagine me buying single-digit sizes! It's about to happen. Egad.
People smile at me (especially men). I see an expression in their eyes I can't identify. Maybe it's "desire." Maybe it's ... heck, I don't know. I *do* know I like it. There's a pleasant appraising quality to those looks that makes me think they're liking what they see. And why not? I've become quite the hottie. As long as I'm clothed, that is, since I've somehow developed my grandmother's arms and belly -- all saggy and depressingly loose. Even my boobs point at the ground like Granny's. Sigh. Still, dem size 10 jeans look mighty nice.
My activity level is far greater than a year ago, when I would feel quite literally trapped in my apartment, the stairs too daunting for me to attempt on my own. The other day I tried taking the stairs two at a time. The attempt lacked the energy I might once have had, but I managed it. Huzzah and all that. Still, I'm less active than I expected to be. I had surgery so I could take the pressure off the arthritis that was ravaging my joints. The damage was done already, however.The pressure is off, but the arthritis is just as bad as ever, which limits what I can do. I'm no longer able to attend the gym, for instance. The positive on this is that AT LAST the doctor(s) I see don't tell me to lose weight but to go get an MRI, and then they *treat* me; my pain is a real thing to them now, and not a simple function of being too fat. In this way if in no other the WLS has saved my life.
I'm grateful every day, every time I see this lovely stranger in the mirror, that I was able to see it through. I had weight loss surgery, rearranging my guts in ways Nature never intended, and the main, visible result (apart from the adorable star-shaped scar on my tummy) is that I'm in a mainstream-appropriate body (and a nice one at that) -- at last, the body I always pictured myself having.
