More of the same, really
Sunday, January 11, 2009
So that was Christmas, and New Year's, and another year is gone. I'm officially 18 months out from my surgery, and I've been the same weight since I was one year out. On the one hand, this is a good thing. My body has found a weight that it is happy at, and I don't have to try very hard to stay there. I can stop obsessing over what I put in my mouth and just be focused on life instead. On the other hand, I've stopped losing weight when I am still 40-60 pounds higher than I was hoping to be at the end of all of this.

I don't really know how to deal with this. 120 pounds! I've lost an entire person, and yet sometimes it's not enough. See, I'm still fat. Obese, if you talk to the BMI people. And I was all kinds of prepared for shifting from Fat to Skinny, but I wasn't prepared to shift from Really, Really Fat to Kind Of Fat. Don't get me wrong, I love the change. I'm healthier and more active and more comfortable in my skin. I don't worry about chairs breaking or armrests bruising my hips or what I'm going to do the next time I need a cute dress for a function. The day before Thanksgiving, I led my family on a 4 mile hike in the cold drizzle of Mt. Tamalpais and it is one of my favorite memories of 2008 just because I felt so fantastic during it.

But sometimes I feel like I need to carry around a picture of myself from 2006 to prove that I've really accomplished a lot, that I've come a really long way and that this? This is my Skinny. And then I feel pissed off because why the hell should I feel like I need to justify my current size to ANYONE? The ironic thing is that at the same time that I want to run around justifying my flabby ass, I am insanely tired of being told what a good job I've done, how amazing I look, how great I must feel. I started a new job in July and starting there let me breathe out at last, because they only know this me. They don't know the pre-surgery me, so they're not constantly watching what I eat or telling me what a good example I am or telling me how fantastic I look. To them, I'm just a mid-30's office manager who happens to be on the pudgy side. At a size 16/18, I'm average, and that's how they look at me. And I kind of love it.

I am trying to reconcile all of this, trying to accept that this is my reality and that those amazing before and after "size 28 to a size 2!" pictures don't happen to everyone who has this surgery. I am trying to believe that this is enough, that it's okay that the vast majority of the time I am perfectly content to be who I am right in this moment. I eat whatever I want (and it's usually good for me), I work out (not as often as I'd like but more often than most of my friends), I get drunk on occasion (because I still love wine), I take my vitamins (more often than not), and I weigh myself every day to make sure I'm staying in my 198-202 range (which I randomly decided is my Acceptable Weight Range). 90% of the time I'm truly content with my life as it is right now and I really like where I am physically. I'm not focused on losing weight anymore, but I am focused on getting healthier.

It's that other 10% of the time that I'm working on. That's the time when I see other patients who have lost more weight, faster, and I wonder what I'm doing wrong. That's when I look in the mirror and think that I have failed at this and I start thinking about going back to Weight Watchers to try and lose these last 40 pounds. Luckily, I have this fantastic support system, and they have been able to talk me off of that ledge more than once. But I need to work on this whole self-acceptance thing a little more on my own, so I need to make more of an effort to keep dumping this crap out of my brain and onto the web, because that is where brain dump belongs.

2009. The year I fix myself. (I hope)