The other side
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
I told my husband that my goal weight will probably be around 150 pounds, to which he responded "Wow, I'll be able to pick you up no problem."

To which I of course responded "Cool, will you give me piggy back rides everywhere we go then?"

Because dude, if one of the byproducts of the surgery is being able to be carried around by my husband when I'm feeling lazy then far be it from me to snub my nose at it.

Six other things I will do when I'm skinny:
1) Cross my legs. All the time, possibly even while walking.
2) Buy lots of pairs of knee high boots, some with scary hooker heels. Watch my husband panic when I wear them because he'll be afraid I will fall.
3) Learn how to run correctly so I no longer look like a flailing giraffe when I do so.
4) Sit on my husband's lap. And also wear his shirts as sleep shirts.
5) Go to the beach. Take coverup off and not care who sees.
6) Borrow my best friend's clothes. Possible "forget" to give them back.

Sometimes I feel like I shouldn't be letting myself think about things I'm going to do when I'm skinny or clothes I want to wear when my ass is half the size it is now. I feel guilty thinking about that side of it, like I'm not supposed to be daydreaming about what I'll look like because I'm not doing this for my looks, I'm doing this for my health.

But I can't help it. Regardless of why I'm doing this the fact of the matter is that I'll end up skinnier than I've ever been, and that opens up a whole new world of options for me when it comes to appearance. Right now, I can't wear turtlenecks because they make my face look fat, so never mind the fact that I love how a black turtlenec with jeans and black boots looks. My calves are ginormous so it does not matter a whit how badly I might want a pair of knee high boots because none of them will fit. I can't wear tank tops for fear of flying away on the wings of my flappy arms. Bathing suit choices are limited to my choice of Boring or Old-Lady styles. When I'm cold, my husband's coat can't keep me warm because it doesn't fit around me.

But that's all going to change, so I daydream. I look in catalogs and on the internet and wander through malls picking out outfits. I wriggle in glee when I realize that I won't have to worry about finding shoes that are both wide and cute.

It's exciting, this planning for the other side. I just hope the fall lines aren't all fugly.

Wednesday, March 14, 2007
I have to admit something.

I am sometimes extraordinarily judgemental towards other fat people.

Specifically, I am extraordinarily judgemental about the way they dress. More then once I have visibly cringed upon seeing a girl wear an outfit that clings too tight or allows rolls of flesh to hang out. I saw a woman the other day in the parking lot who had squeezed herself into a stretch denim jumper that had to be two sizes too small and I shuddered a little when I realized I could see her cellulite. On Monday when I went walking at the bay, I saw a woman stretching, a woman who was much smaller than me but who also had a lot of belly. And as she stretched her shirt rode up and I could see the fleshy whiteness of that belly sticking out like bread dough allowed to rise for too long. And I was embarrassed for her, even though I don't know her and no one was staring at her. She certainly wasn't embarrassed.

I'm fully aware that this is me projecting my own fears onto other people. I spend a lot of time tugging my shirt down to make sure nothing gets exposed. I pick out outfits based on how well they cover my "unfortunate bits" (and oh, there are so many unfortunate bits). I avoid clingy things and tight things and sleeveless things in hopes that no one will notice that I'm as fat as I am. When I stretch out before or after I walk, I make sure that there is no one behind me to be stunned into a coma over the enormity of my ass when I bend over. I never wear tank tops when I work out in public, regardless of how ever-loving hot it might be. Every minute of every day I am acutely aware of my body and I do everything I can to make sure that it's as aesthetically acceptable as possible to the rest of the world.

I wish I had the courage to wear tank tops in public. I wish I had the confidence to not care about someone catching a flash of belly or being subjected to the sight of me bending over. But I don't have either of those, and so my sensibilites get offended when other fat people do. And I've tried to not be like that. I've tried to get behind the "You go girl!" mentality of it all and accept that these women are showing themselves off because they love themselves, I've wanted to be able to stop judging these girls and women but I just want them to cover themselves up.

But I just can't. I can't do it anymore than I can accept skinny girls wearing absurd fashion trends involving leggings or pants under dresses or formal shorts.

Sometimes I feel like I'm a traitor to the cause.

Maybe I am.

Irrational? Maybe.
Monday, March 12, 2007
This entry by Anne has been rattling around in my brain for days now. It kind of made me gasp because it seemed like she dropped in for a quick visit to my messy brain. No one ever talks about how to get used to suddenly having an entirely new body. Weight loss surgery is the closest we can come to that full body transplant that so many of us daydreamed about, you know? I can only imagine it is something akin to being told in the morning that you won a solo trip to Paris but you have to fly there that afternoon, so you end up desperately reading a phrase book and studying a map in order to be able to get around the city once you get there in between cycling bouts of sheer terror and total exhiliration.

I'm like Anne in that I've spent my life pretty happy with myself. For every moment of "Oh my god, my ass is stuck in this chair, I hope no one is looking at me", I have 5 moments of "My body is a work of art because it can do so much". I know every curve and every lump and every perfect and imperfect part of my body. I know that stretch bootcut jeans look awesome on me and that I can never go wrong with high heels or V-necks. I know what works for me and I know what doesn't.

I also know that my husband is a T&A man. His ideal female form has broad hips, a big, round butt and boobs out to there...natural boobs, not fake ones. So on top of the whole having to get used to an entirely new body in a short amount of time, I have this fear that he won't think I'm as sexy if I get too skinny, if I lose my ass and my boobs disappear. He says he doesn't see this as a problem, and reminds that he's also one of the few guys I know who thinks Nicole Kidman is sexy (such a dichotomy, my husband). He is, of course, hoping that I manage to keep the boobs; quite frankly, so am I. I think I can deal with the rest of my body changing so dramatically as long as I have some familiar landscape to look down at from time to time.

I'm not afraid of suddenly being visible; I've never, ever felt invisible. Doors are opened for me, customer service reps always take care of me, my employers have always treated me well. I've decided that it's because I'm pretty. It seems to be okay to be fat if you are conventionally pretty. I worry about what might happen once I've lost the weight and I'm pretty AND thin (if I stay pretty...after all, I might have a face that's only pretty when plump). Will anyone take me seriously? Or will the retired old Navy guys I work with suddenly see me as a piece of fluff that they don't have to listen to?

And other things. How will I know what to wear? How will I deal with suddenly being able to wear turtlenecks without fear of looking like I have 6 chins? Will I be able to restrain myself and only buy one pair of knee high black boots? What if my best friend doesn't recognize me since we only see each other once every few months? What if my cats start freaking out because I'm not soft and squishy anymore? It doesn't help wthat a (very well-meaning and very supportive) friend said "You're going to look weird skinny. You're not going to look like Melinda."

So the question becomes...who the hell will I look like?

Is there a cheeseaholics group?
Friday, March 09, 2007
I spent last weekend in Wisconsin, and I ate my weight in cheese.

Okay, not really, but I did eat a lot of cheese. And drank a lot of alcohol. And while it was a fantastic time, I had these little moments of melacholy because this is an annual gathering of friends and every so often I would think "This is the last time I'll be able to do this with abandon".

And that right there is why I'm having this surgery. Man, food should not be something I should be melancholy about. That thought never should have entered my mind because I was surrounded by some of the best and most awesome people in my life and that's what my focus should have been on. I shouldn't have been wondering how much cheese I'll be able to eat next year.

Probably the most awesome thing about the trip is that I got to tell people in person about what I'm planning for my summer. See, I've been online for 6 years now, and I have this whole other blog that's been around forever and all these people who know me, but I haven't been able to mention the surgery there because I don't want to deal with the assvice. So that's why I started this blog; I even tried to write in a slightly different voice so people wouldn't figure out it was me. But I got to see a bunch of my internet friends and tell them what's going on and guess what? Nothing but support. Not only support but offers of emails and phone calls as needed from other women who had gone through the surgery already (I had no idea that I knew so many, seriously). It was eye-opening, talking to one woman who had been through it 10 years ago, another who just had her plastics done, and another who gave me a whole new perspective on what it's like to be the friend of a WLS patient. It kind of reaffirmed my decision, too.

And now that Blogger has outed me, I'm going to go ahead and out myself on my other blog. And also, I'm going to start writing like myself, which is way more entertaining. But I'm going to keep all the weight loss stuff here, just because.

In other news, the meeting of insurance requirements continues. I'm back to Weight Watchers and have managed to lose 4.6 pounds since January 18th. (I managed to lose .8 pounds while on vacation and eating my weight in cheese. Maybe I should go on an all cheese diet or something.) I kind of both love and hate my meeting. My leader is awesomely hilarious, but there is this one chick in there who keeps bugging me. It's mostly the way she talks, I think. I'm sure I bug the hell out her too, what with my propensity for saying things like "There was no way in hell I could eat it all" but the rest of the group finds me amusing.

Dear God, I'm the class clown of Weight Watchers. Uff da.

My regular doctor continues to be awesome, which is good since I have to see her once a month to talk about The Diet. Apparently my B12 levels are low and I'm slightly anemic (Does cheese have iron? Maybe I should eat more cheese.), so she's a little concerned. So am I, considering that B12 absorption is something I'm going to have to be worried about after the surgery. So I've started taking a daily B12 pill and have got to get myself to start taking that damn daily multivitamin more often. It'd be easier to do if the chewables didn't taste like fruit flavored dust. All vitamins taste like dust though, so whatever. I'll eat the stupid things.