RJ'S/beginning

My son called for his daily chat, a time I really look forward to. He says, "How was your day?"
 
Well I've had a lovely day. I got to go into the office, work with a team of 6 very smart people, we all got some great thinking and work done. I was able to join them in the lunch I ordered for us, and I've extremely been productive all day. What were the first words out of my mouth in response to my son's question?
 
"Well, I'm still stalled."
 
WTH?? That's all I can think of to tell him about my day?? So he's a very insightful smarty-pants and he says to me, "Mom it was one thing to rely on the scale when you could say 'oh maybe I should cut down a bit tomorrow' and use the scale to monitor and adjust your eating habits. But really, what role does the scale play in your life now??"
 
For a change, I was speechless. Well he wasn't about to stop there. He carries on saying,
 
"Maybe you should ask yourself if it's healthy to let what you see on a scale determine your feelings of success for the day? After all you're doing what you need to, and you told me you were going to focus on process vs. the outcome. Would anything change in your process if you just threw away the scale for 3 months?"
 
No of course it wouldn't but can i throw away the scale for 3 months? I cannot. Why? Because maybe I'm sick in the head and I associate my self-worth with success or failure at pounds lost. Not what I do to succeed, but whether the scale says I've lost weight today.
 
Unlike a lot of people here, over the last few years i could NOT lose weight. I could control my calories, my cardio-vascular health, what I put in my mouth, but I couldn't control my weight. Yet I continued to judge myself by my ability to lose weight. Not by my ability to do what was healthy, but whether or not I could lose weight. I may have been sleeved, but apparently that way of judging myself still persists.
 
So really, if we are eating our protein, drinking our water, and exercising to the degree that we can, what role does or should the scale play in our lives when we're trying to lose weight? Should we not focus on the process, monitor the crap out of the protein and water and calories, and let the scale go off on a long hike to TImbuktoo? And can we do that? Why not?

I feel like a different part of my brain has been activated over the last few weeks. Look at how much we all have to learn to prepare for this surgery. When was the last time you used the words "pyloric valve" in polite conversation, on a regular basis?
 
Eight weeks ago, I didn't realize I would be a "sleever", a "post-op" a "full liquids" stage. I was just me, loving life, my job, my husband, my kids, and reading Sci-Fi if I wanted to learn new words (China Mieville, anyone?)
 
Unfortunately, today I also know things like "sliders", "pre-op cheating", "slow loser", "stall", "head hunger", "weight re-gain", "falling off the wagon". And now, these words I've never used before have become imbued with emotions, with meaning--and another way to judge myself and others. Now these words are emotion-laden, and I have to work to make them rational. Now, if I'm not careful, I will categorize myself by these words and find another way in which I could be seen to have failed. For someone who is as motivated as am I by the fear of failure, now these can be new weapons.
 
Unless I refuse to let that happen.
 
Unless I say to myself and those around me, that everyday that I stick to the plan is a successful day. That everyday I veer off the plan is an opportunity presented to me to triumph the next day. That this is my new life, and I intend to live it, enjoy it, succeed at it, and let the Universe unfold the way it should.
 
So I will try not to throw out the old, happy life I had, and live instead by one where I can succeed or fail daily based on an outcome I may not be able to control--like when I stall, or what I lose. I can only control what I do, and that part, I know how to live by that.

My husband & I were talking, and I got a bit emotional about this journey and so thankful for his support.....the poor man, he is my sole support......well, that and VST!
 
He's never asked how much I weighed, but knew I was over 200 pounds. I was 250 in January.....forget about getting to a healthy weight....I was feeling overwhelmed at the possibility at just getting below 200 and feeling I would never reach that goal.
 
Today I weighted in at 217 and got teary eyed when I realized getting under 200 is possible, and it's in sight.....don't know how long it'll take to get there, but am giving it my all.
 
My husband is hurt that I don't wear my wedding band/engagement ring. I already had them sized 5 years after we married...back in 1989....and I refused to have them sized again--unless it's smaller.....felt if I got them sized again to a bigger size it was acknowledging I'll never get to a healthy weight.....and I wasn't going down w/o a fight.
 
He has no clue, but I can now wear my wedding rings......our anniversary is coming up in a few weeks....I plan on surprising him by wearing them....I'm so excited, I want to wear them now....but I don't want to ruin the surprise.....wish me luck!

March 6th had arrived. I was so freaking excited!! My parents had decided to take the boys to the lake for a week so I could recover. The only thing that was giving a twinge of worry was the drain. I am not good with medical things. I even hide my eyes and gag a little when a doctor gives a shot on TV. So this drain is a huge source of panic in my world.
 
My surgery was scheduled for noon. I had to be at the hospital at 10 am. That gives me time to sleep in a little, spend a little time with my family, and reassure my husband that this is what I want to do.
 
I am going to a side note here, but this is not a sillly observation, it is a sincere one. My husband is someone that I can say truely loves me. Not who I think I am or who I want to be, just me. He has loved me at size 12 (when he met me), size 18 (when he married me) and size 22 (when he followed me into the hospital that morning) and all the ups and downs in between. He has never made me feel fat or ugly. He is truely a beautful human being. When I made the decision to do this, I saw the panic on his face. Not because of the money or time, but because he said he is scared to live without me. I have had to give my brother my medical power or attorney because my husband said he won't pull the plug. He said he can't be the one to kill me. He did assure me that he respects my decision and will not fight my brother; he said he just can't be the one that makes that decision.
 
So, at 9:30 we dropped my boys off at daycare. With tears in my eyes, I kissed them each good-bye. I knew that I was going to be fine, but there is always that chance. Telling your kids good-bye is a little scary when it might be the last time. I sent my step-daughter a message telling her I loved her. Then, we started out for the hospital. I was chatty and my husband was nervous. He did not feel like talking so we fussed at each other. I took it with a grain of salt. I knew he wasn't mad at me. When checked into the hospital, we were immediately sent to the pre-op (no time to change my mind). I weighed in there and I had officially lost 20 pounds before my surgery. Woo-hoo!!!
 
I was put in my room, changed my clothes, and met all the pre-op nurses. My parents and mother-in-law joined us and helped me pass the time. I cherish those moments. I guess when you are in a situation like this, you sit back and thank God for the little things that make us happy and my family is it. The nurses came in and tried to start an IV. Because I had been on a liquid diet for a week and clear liquids the day before and NPO since midnight, I was a little dehydrated. It took two nurses one hour to find a vein they could use. They kept saying, "Your veins are so deep". (Sidenote: If any of you are nurses reading this, when you say something like "your veins are so deep" what your patient hears is "You are so fat, your arms are even carrying a load. Stop eating cake, fat butt" Well, they finally got the IV started in my hand using a baby needle. If that didn't solidify my decision about having this surgery I don't know what could have.
 
The time had come and they were finally wheeling me to the OR. The nurses are just talking away. I finally looked up and said "You know I know what you are saying". The nurse looked at me in shock. They apparently forgot to give me the wacky juice I was supposed to get before they carted me off. When I got to the OR, a line of nurses was waiting for me. They even did the wave as I passed by. I said "They forgot the wacky juice, I am soooo going to remember you doing that!" Everyone laughed and began talking at once. I was able to help them get me to the operating bed. I talked to the doctor that was going to put me to sleep (Side note: I know what the name is and no idea how to spell it, so don't judge!) I mentioned to him that I was going to remember speaking to him and I BETTER NOT remember any of that surgery. He promised me that he hasn't had a patient remember in 18 years, and he promised not to blemish that record. Thankfully, he was right.
 
Unfortunately, when I woke up, I did not like him or anyone else very much. I HURT!!!!!. . .

As always, I have made my neighbors wonder how I ever got out of the mental institute. At least this time, I didn't flash some poor, unexpecting man my boobs...though he really did seem to enjoy that. No, today I did that thing that we all do sometimes when we are working out. I forgot I was in public. Not only was I in public, it was 7am and there were TONS of people out walking (their dogs or themselves).
 
Before I went on my 2mile walk (yes, two miles...thank you...thank you...thank you...you can hold your applause now LOL) I decided to add some old CDs that I had found to my phone so that I would have something different to listen to as I walked. Great idea right? This would help motivate me, get me moving a little faster, and help keep me walking more than I have been. Well, that's all true. EXCEPT one thing....I forgot how much I enjoyed some of these tunes. So, not only was I singing along as I walked (I tried to stop when I saw someone coming), I was also doing that upper body dance thing with my arms....you know the one right? It's when you start moving your arms and bobbing up and down?! But, that wasn't the worst part, the worst was when I decided to get my legs involved. Apparently, I didn't think putting one foot in front of the other was good enough. Nope, I thought it would be neat to do a little side step ever once and a while....as well as some some back and forth foot work. This wouldn't have been too bad except I got caught BIG time. Not just by the person in front in me walking their dog, but also by the man driving behind me. I have no idea how long either one was there. The BEST part of the whole thing was watching the man walking directly toward me get the look on his face as to say, "what is wrong with her" and ever so slowly cross the road for no other reason to get away from me. And yes, I made sure to say, "Hello" as I passed. I thought about stopping and petting the dog, but I didn't want to be sprayed with mace. LOL
 
After being caught twice in a matter of seconds, I decided that I should stop my dancing and focus on walking. That was all well and good until "Brown Eyed Girl" came on. Something took over and I was unable to control myself. The words came pouring out of my mouth and my arms and shoulders started going. That is until I noticed an older woman walking her dog and another man attempting to control his dog. It was barking and attempting to break away in an attempt to get to me...and it didn't appear that he wanted to give me lovings. Apparently dogs are not very fond of my singing ability. Damn, and I was planing on auditioning for the Voice next year....LOL.
 
Now that I am home, safe and sound. I have decided that going for my walk in the morning is not the best idea. I think I will leave the walking to the afternoon or evening when there are less people out there to scare. I mean come on, I've got to maintain some type of normalcy....or at least pretend to. Now excuse me as I go turn up Price and dance around the house like the Dancing Queen I (think) am.