Bmjohnson

I've been at goal weight for years, I am 11 years post-WLS and food is often still a struggle. Although my weight doesn't fluctuate more than 5 or so pounds from goal weight, which I maintain, it is always a struggle.
I was on a cruise last week and the buffet was like a mermaid singing her siren's song enticing me to shipwreck myself on her fattening rocks. So tempting. And for the entire week she never shut-up!

What I'm beginning to accept is that I will ALWAYS be a food addict and need to remain vigilant at all times. I won't be permanently free of this addiction and there will always be struggle involved.
It seems my only choice is whether I struggle at a healthy weight able to participate in active sporting and life endeavors or whether I will struggle while I return to morbid obesity at 333 pounds and live out my days sitting in a chair in front of the tv gorging myself.

I choose to struggle while healthy and active. I have tools and support for continuing to choose the healthy, active path.
Maybe that's as good as it gets...and that's enough!

Mrs Coffey, first let me say thank you! Second I love the article. it is tough I personally am fighting against the stigma to men, which is seemingly even higher than that associated with women, although I am not belittling anything women have to go through. Men get the , why are you having surgery just stop eating crap and workout at the gym, etc. there's a macho anti acceptance that permeates society. As a result I can say that many man and I would say women, stay away from the life changing and life saving surgeries that exist. I am keeping a blog, I do a lot of video taste tests and stuff like that as I am still pre op, but I am turning the blog into an ebook to show men what this is all like. Thee are many books including your own that are great but they are very female and men have different questions and expectations. Look at the men's forum, and the questions are very different. Together all of us can show that this is not some cop out that it is hard work, and why we needed to do it.
For Ruth1966- Ruth, I posted this in a different post on one forum, and it got a great response so I though I would re post it here for you. Maybe it will help you get your point across. Please feel free to use it as you need.
In my blog I used this analogy for when people asked me why I am having this surgery, why aren't I just going to the gym more and eating right etc.
If you are out running and your tired and you see a small hill up ahead you grit your teeth and go for it. That's losing 20 pounds. But if you saw a mountain in front of you you would probably just turn around and avoid it. That mountain is how much we ( bariatric patients) have to lose.
If I climb that mountain on my own, I will never make it, I don't have the experience nor the physical tools to do so. The best professional mountain climbers use sherpas to help them. This surgery is my Sherpa, I still have to do the climbing, but he will be there to show me the way, and all my friends and coworkers are my climbing gear that support me as I climb.
I love you all, together We can all do this.
http://cuttingthefatwithaknife.blogspot.com

Mom taught me the greatest lesson I’ve ever learned:
Self-acceptance and the desire to change are not mutually exclusive propositions


I hit 300 pounds by the age of 18. Dating back to early childhood, all my efforts to diet had failed, and always left me heavier than I’d been when I started.
In my 20s, I decided to accept my body - fat and all. No more diets. No more wasting time feeling bad about my size. From now on, I was gonna work on loving the body I had. If I remember correctly, about 10 minutes later, my mother broke the news:
“Sweetheart, I’m having weight loss surgery.”
A chorus of ‘No!’ started singing in my head. Every reason why surgery was a bad idea tried to elbow its way to the stage.
“It’s dangerous!”
“It’s expensive!”
“It’s a cop out!”
“It’s society that needs to change, not you!”
“You’re beautiful just as you are!”
“It’s their problem, not yours!”
“NO!”
My mom had gone through periods of consistently eating nourishing foods in nourishing ways, exercising every day, and sleeping well. And as a result, she knew what it felt like to be more comfortable in her own skin, and to move through the world without the burden of 150+-pounds of excess fat.
I, on the other hand, was young, and had always been overweight and out of shape, but I wasn’t gonna let that stop me from believing I knew what was best for my mother. I was an idealistic feminist college student who’d just stumbled upon the solution to suffering: loving myself just exactly as I was.
To my mind, by choosing to have surgery, my mom was being a narrow-minded, self-hating fool.
“Mom, you need to love yourself! Don’t let society tell you how your body should look!”
“I do love myself," she said. "That’s why I’m doing this. I want to be comfortable. I want to be able to do things I’m not comfortable doing at this weight. And I want to be alive and healthy for when you have babies.”
I could hardly believe the depth of her ignorance.
“There’s a support group for post-ops that’s open to the public. Please come with me,” she said.
Fine, I thought. There was bound to be some post-op there who’d almost died, or someone that couldn’t swallow...All I needed was one flesh and blood person to base my argument on, and then my mother would have no choice but to come to her senses.
“I’ll come on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“I want you to listen to everything that gets said in that meeting. I’m not going if you’re gonna ignore the truth.”
“It’s a deal.”
My mom drove us to the meeting in Englewood, NJ. There was a facilitator, and just under 50 people in the room, mostly women in their 40s and 50s. Some had had surgery already, some were scheduled to have it, and some were just thinking about it.
I sat against the wall in silent protest. While waiting for the meeting to start, I invented a life and a personality for the facilitator, compared her to me, and decided I was superior. She started with some house-keepy details and then launched right in.
“Welcome, everyone,” she said. “First we’ll hear check-ins from the post-ops, and then, if there’s still time, we’ll take some questions.”
The post-ops shared personal stories ranging from the straightforward: ‘I had surgery, I lost a lot of weight, I feel better, and here I am,’ to the gripping: ‘I had surgery, had a bunch of post-surgical complications, and here’s what life has looked like since.’
Everyone’s story was a little different, but one thing was universal: these people hadn’t gone under the knife to get hot; they’d undergone surgery because they wanted to live as fully as they could in the time that remained, and for them, that meant being a healthier weight. Dieting had failed them, like it fails most of us, but surgery felt like it might be the answer.
The facilitator called a break. I watched as my mother got up and introduced herself to a post-op who’d shared that losing weight meant getting her blood pressure, cholesterol, and type 2 diabetes under control. The woman was older, she was not meeting any popular standards of beauty, and appeared positively vibrant. I hadn’t realized how down my mom looked until she started to brighten up talking to this woman.
The moderator called us back. People were smiling and whispering, quietly exchanging cards and phone numbers. She thanked everyone for their shares, and opened up the floor, as promised.
“Does anyone have any questions for the post-ops?”
Now was my chance. I raised my hand.
“How many of you wish you hadn’t had surgery?”
Not a single hand went up. Maybe they’re embarrassed, I thought. Surely the ones who’d had complications felt foolish for having had surgery, but maybe peer pressure was keeping them quiet.
I needed to ask a better question, get them to talk about the danger.
“Uh...can I ask one more?” the facilitator nodded.
“What’s the biggest, scariest risk to having surgery?”
There was a tiny pause. My brain fired off all kinds of answers: Vitamin deficiencies! Pain! Death!
“Judgement.”
What?
“Being criticized.”
Wait, what?
“When people think surgery’s the easy way out, or a sign of weakness, or just a stupid idea, and they never stop letting you know." Huh.
According to a roomful of WLS post-ops, having to deal with my criticism might be the biggest, scariest risk my mom would face if she had surgery. Compared to daily, holier-than-thou judgement, even post-surgical complications might seem trite and manageable.
My mom do go ahead with her surgery. In under a year, I watched her regain much of the health and livelihood she’d lost. A little over a year later, I went to the same surgeon.
Ever since I opted to have gastric bypass surgery myself in 2003, I can tell you that the folks at that meeting were right.
I’ve worked my tail off to get well, to get an honest handle on my relationship to food, and to create a body I love. I became a personal trainer, coach, and educator to help others do the same. As a wellness professional, I’ve been judged for having had surgery in much the same way I was judged for being the fattest kid on the playground, except now, it’s often by other fitness “professionals.”
I’ve since apologized to my mother for the grief I tried to give her when she first started exploring surgery as an option. And I’ve thanked her for sparking the greatest lesson I’ve ever learned - the lesson that I’ve dedicated my career to teaching to others:
Self-acceptance and the desire to change are not mutually exclusive propositions - they can co-exist. In my experience, and that of countless clients and students, the only way to make lasting, sustainable, positive change is to begin from a place of love.

I was on the boards for over a year pre-op, and inhaled all kinds of stories. I was (I believe) adequately prepared for how the VSG would be a tool, would offer a brief time (1 year) to build new skills, deal with surprising upsets about not being able to soothe myself with food. I also realized I needed to be in therapy, during my journey -- I call it my Year of Losing Weight, my Year of Maintaining my Weight, and Boring Real Life. That's my therapy commitment -- three years.
I'm old enough to know that life isn't an endless honeymoon. Boredom, habits and real life end all honeymoons. And then the marriage begins.
So I was well prepared.
I do see those who are starstruck and want to wake up 365 days later and find themselves Cinderella at the Ball being chased around the floor by The Prince. I see some who are, frankly, not smart enough to appreciate what they're doing to themselves and what it will mean. I seem some who thought they were ready, but find it so much harder to adapt than they'd dreamed. Some of those adapt. Some of them don't. I see some who can't be compliant because they're too food-addicted or simply unable to follow directions or those who can't let anyone be the boss of them or those who think they're too special to do it the boring way everyone else does.
I see the perfection puppies, the alcoholics, the ones whose lives are a train wreck with no space in it for self-protection, the wounded adult children, the smart ones who can fix everything but their weight. I see those with bad surgeons and inattentive care. I see those with no support at home or outright antagonism and hate disguised as nagging. People who are desperate enough to have weight loss surgery are not all in mental spaces or physical spaces that are safe enough for them to undergo WLS and its aftermath.
Of course, I see people who do well. A lot of them are older. They know it won't be perfect, but they're patient. They have seen tough times, and they aren't shocked by some tough things about WLS. They're a bit long-suffering and don't bitch about every new food that doesn't thrill their palate. They can tolerate temporary discomfort to get to the easier times two months out. In a word, they're just compliant -- or as compliant as they can be. They don't beat themselves up when they're not perfect and they are resilient enough to get back on the path without being a drama llama about it.
They don't start threads with titles like: "Oy vey ist mir!" or "Will I ever be happy again?" or "Please tell me this won't last forever." They already know they'll be happy again, that this won't last forever, and that ein bischen vey doesn't require a clickbait thread title.

I was 170 pounds overweight and I thought I had tried everything. I had a LAP-BAND for 11 years, during which I lost and regained 130 pounds. The LAPBAND was ready to do its' job, but I was not ready to do mine. This is the story of how I embraced, life, living, healthy food and exercise, and finally shed 170 pounds 8 years into my LAPBAND journey. From needing a "walker" to climbing America's tallest mountain in 2 years, this is my story.


Food was my way of comforting myself and relieving stress for as far back into my childhood as I can remember. There was alcohol and violence in my childhood home and I needed comfort. There was no human source for it so I created a source for it.

Food "hugged me" and made me feel safer. In an environment with stressors beyond my control. I had a small something I could easily access to sooth myself. It was my mind deciding what to eat for comfort and it was my hand lifting the food to my mouth. I was in the driver's seat regarding something in my life and body, even if I wasn't safe in my home. Food was my best friend, provided comfort and gave me a way to manage even a small part of my life.

By my teens, my chubby appearance morphed into actually being significantly overweight. At the age of 12, I jumped from a women's size 12 to size 18 and never looked back. By the age of 20, soon after my mother's death, I was a size 26 and 330 pounds. In my 30s, I lost 130 pounds too rapidly and much of my hair by binging and purging and in my 40s, I again lost 130 pounds after LAP-BAND Weight Loss Surgery in 2003.

But because I had not done the emotional, internal work on my relationship with food and childhood trauma, my food addiction shifted to liquid calories I could easily pass through the LAP-BAND, which is common. At this time, for the first time in my life, I developed an alcohol problem and my dinner each night was a six pack of "vodka coolers" followed by a pint of low-fat ice cream for dessert.

Nutrition was the last thought on my mind and my focus was on comfort calories that could pass through "the band." By 2006, all the weight I lost was back. I also continued to eat solid foods that would force me to vomit and caused my esophagus to become distended. When a LAP-BAND patient doesn't respect the "full" signals the body sends to the brain and continues to eat, the esophagus becomes a storage place for excess food and the esophagus stretches. This made the LAP-BAND useless and while it is still in my body, it no longer functions properly.

At the same time, during the last 20 years, I developed back problems from bulging discs related to the weight I was carrying. I began using opiates under a doctor's supervision to combat pain and muscle spasms in my back and in my knees that resulted in five knee surgeries. At first, I viewed the opiates as a wonderful tool as they relieved or masked some of the pain and also provided an emotional high. Soon I was using the opiates for emotional reasons more than for pain and as my tolerance for them grew, I needed larger doses to get the same effect. Then I needed to graduate to a stronger form of opiate and that is when, 10 years ago, I began taking Oxycodone and OxyContin around the clock along with Flexeril for muscle spasms.

Sitting for long periods became unbearable and I was forced to leave my career as a Court Paralegal and qualified for "permanent disability." I cried as I left the hearing in which I was declared disabled. I didn't want to be disabled but felt it must be true for a judge to decide it was. It was 2010 and I believed my life was essentially over. At 50 years old I was simply waiting to slowly die. I believed all my happy days were behind me.

When my doctor suggested I try yoga before we take the drastic step of implanting electrodes in my spine for the pain, I began attending a very gentle yoga class for people with disabilities. Slowly, over a two year period, I began to build stronger core muscles which made the back spasms less severe and less frequent.

But I continued to take the opiates because by then I had an emotional and chemical dependence on them. During this time, I was diagnosed with Sleep Apnea which was caused by the opiates and excess weight. Opiates disrupt the brains signals to the lungs and suppress the respiratory drive.

On top of this - physical pain, addiction and emotional unhappiness - I was also caring for my father with Alzheimer's. Although in a safe and loving group home, I still felt responsible for my father's well-being and comfort. I was his only family within 3000 miles. As so often happens when caring for a loved-one, we stop caring for ourselves in every sense.

Soon after my father's death in 2012, I developed pneumonia because my breathing became so inconsistent that my lungs filled with fluid. I realized at that point I needed to change everything about my life including losing the weight and decreasing, even eliminating, my use of opiates or else I would die. At that moment, in the hospital in 2012, the desire to live was sparked in me by the threat of death!

After leaving the hospital, for 60 days, I detoxed and experienced cold sweats, tremors and anxiety as the opiates slowly left my bloodstream. Once I was drug-free, I began making small, sustainable changes to my diet and gradually increasing amounts of movement. (Yes, that means exercise!) Over the following 18 months, my weight dropped from a high of 333 pounds down to 185. As a 6'3" tall woman this is a healthy, lean weight for me.

In 2013, I decided then to give myself the gift of nearly full-body plastic surgery. Since I was already severely overweight in my teens, at a time of life when many young girls look their best and enjoy being pretty, I decided "it is never too late to have a happy childhood." During an 11-hour surgery, 13 pounds of skin was removed from my abdomen, buttocks, back, chest and under arms. For the first time since the age of 12, no part of my belly and buttocks continue to jiggle when I stop walking, no part of me droops and my thighs do not rub together. The Sleep Apnea is gone and I now climb mountains instead of grabbing railings to pull myself up stairs! But the hardest mountain I've ever climbed was a "metaphorical mountain" in those first few weeks of starting to change my relationships with food and drugs, as well as beginning to move.

I am enjoying a lovely renaissance in a healthy, lean, strong and coincidentally beautiful body. However, this transformation has not been about beauty. My goals are continued health and a desire to live with passion, and about choosing to do more than survive. I am driven from an internal source to live a vibrant, full life of joy so I can continue to enjoy the love of family and friends and so they needn't lose me to obesity and addiction.

This photo (above) was taken on the highest mountain in the 48 contiguous United States, Mount Whitney. After 10 hours of climbing 6,134 feet to an elevation of 14,508 feet covering 11 miles, I summited at 2:00 pm and like every part of my weight-loss, fitness and "reclamation of life" journey, I did it!

Yet, like during every aspect of my journey I had partners. My partners knew the lay of the land, my strength and challenges. I surrounded myself with people who knew how to help me get where I wanted to go. Physical and mental health professionals who coached me to express my full potential. What mountains will you climb in your life and who will help you get there? Build your team, including here at BariatricPal, and there is no "mountain" you cannot climb!

Umm, fudge! It had been a crazy busy week. Away from home for 10 days, facilitating two training courses and speaking at an Obesity Summit, I was tired and ready to go home. Though I have a pretty good routine when I travel and stay focused on my good Success Habits, I was tempted


Umm, fudge! It had been a crazy busy week. Away from home for 10 days, facilitating two training courses and speaking at an Obesity Summit, I was tired and ready to go home. Though I have a pretty good routine when I travel and stay focused on my good Success Habits, I was tempted beyond my ability to resist, to buy a piece of fudge. Umm, I love fudge and of course the walnuts added the all important “protein.” I had kept up with my exercise and make good food choices all week, so I felt justified in splurging a bit.
As it always does, the first bite was heavenly! Smooth and creamy. So good. I relished that first bite, waited a bit and then another, and yet another. Enough! I thought. I’m good. Now I am going to mindfully throw the rest away. A difficult thing to do knowing how much I paid for it and due to all of the starving people in the world. But I knew it had to go. With Michael Jordan flair, I strutted by the trash can and slam dunked it. There! Good for me. I would have high-fived the guy next to me, but he gave me a funny look so I decided I would just celebrate privately.
Boarding for my flight began and victoriously, I marched onto the plane. Safe from “too much” fudge. An hour passed by still on the tarmac, waiting for a mechanical repair. Finally, the captain announced that we would need to deplane and board another flight. By that time I had missed my connecting flight in Denver so I knew enough to get off the plane and get quickly in line for re-booking.
As I waited patiently in line, I don’t know why, but the thought of my left over fudge so close by started to haunt me. Though I am embarrassed to admit it, here is the conversation in my head. “This situation is beyond stressful and surely another piece of fudge would calm my nerves.” Honestly, you are not thinking of getting the fudge out of that trash bin over there are you?” Well, it is still good, it was wrapped up and in the bag.” Really?” What will people think of you digging in the trash?” “It will be right on top. Easy and there are not too many people over there, I can be quick!” Come on, seriously, you are better than this. You don’t eat food from the trash! Well I guess you are right! Thank goodness.”
Whew! That was close. It shouldn’t have even crossed my mind but it did. Why, I wonder? What is this problem I have with food? I was pleased that my good voice over ruled my temptress voice but I would have preferred not to have had that conversation at all! Perhaps you can relate?
Sometimes I find myself focusing on how unfair it is that I struggle with such unhealthy food relationships. But then, I am both relieved and proud that I have been able to win many of these battles. And every time I do – the “you can do it, you are better than that” voice gets stronger and stronger. For those of you who have heard my other crazy food stories, you’ll know how important it is when I say, I don’t eat M & M’s off the floor, whipped cream with my fingers, OR fudge from the trash! Yeah!

Very awesome way to look at this journey. Definitely enjoyed reading this post. Thanks

Very awesome way to look at this journey. Definitely enjoyed reading this post. Thanks

POSITION AVAILABLE: Hours: M-F 24/7. No vacation pay. No sick days. No experience required, but must be willing to learn on the job… and put forth a tremendous amount of effort. GREAT BENEFITS.


If you saw that employment ad, would you apply for the job? Most of us would probably be curious…but that business about no vacation days and no days off may lead us to say, “No, thanks!” What if the job opening was for…MARRIAGE? Let's say you would be applying to be a wife or husband? Would you take the job?
What if the job opening was for PARENTHOOD? You'd be applying to be a mother or father. Would you sign on the dotted line?
Those two "jobs," spouse and parent - fit the job description above. You don't get days off from being a mom, dad or spouse - not if you want to be a really good parent or want your relationship to be healthy. You have to show up every day -- whether you feel like it or not.
In 2007, Cari (the Post Op of A Post Op & A Doc) accepted a position that was neither spouse nor parent (although she also held both of those positions). Her new job had the same requirements: 24/7, 365 days a year. Her new position was as a WLS post-op living a life in Recovery From Obesity. Oh, she didn't know it at the time, but living healthy is a full-time job. The benefits have been incredible for her – being able to enjoy improved health, wear cuter (and less expensive) clothes, enjoy activities she couldn’t when carrying excess weight (biking, hiking, and kayaking to name a few), being able to travel with ease, and enjoying an improved self-esteem leading to a more enjoyable work and social life.
Those benefits come with responsibilities, because being healthy is a JOB. Being healthy doesn't just happen. You have to show up and do the work. You don't get to "take a break" because you're tired and you don't get to play hookey or take sick days. If you're sick, you still need to take care of yourself.
Are you treating your obesity like a full-time job, or a hobby?
Recovery From Obesity is a full-time job. What sort of performance evaluation would you give yourself? How would a real-life employer deal with you if you weren’t performing the job duties you signed up for when you accepted the job?
Most employers would give you a warning and expect you to improve your efforts and performance in order to secure your position. If you continued to put forth minimal effort and consequently didn’t meet even minimal performance criteria, you’d eventually be fired.
When you made the decision to have weight loss surgery, you were made aware of the requirements for keeping your weight off: eating healthy foods in healthy portions, drinking lots of water, and getting exercise on a regular basis, to name a few.
If you’re not following through with the job criteria you accepted when you decided to have weight loss surgery, who’s going to give you a warning? Maybe the doctor or nutritionist – if you attend your follow-up appointments. If you continue to treat your weight loss surgery like a part-time position or hobby, the benefits won’t be part of the package. But who can fire you?
A better option than quitting is to go after that great benefit package the job of healthy living offers and get some ON-THE-JOB TRAINING. Get to support groups, make an appointment with your nutritionist, get into therapy, find a mentor who lives a healthy lifestyle, and commit to your job/yourself. In order to perform better on your job, you need solid instruction on healthy living, eating and thinking.
This on-the-job instruction requires a whole lot more than a single visit to a nutritionist, a stopover at a support group meeting, a session with a surgeon and a 1-hour psych-eval. Yeah. A LOT MORE.
It might take a solid year or more of working with a life coach or personal trainer. It might take regular attendance at 12-Step meetings. It might take annual attendance at educational conferences, targeted toward living fully in Recovery From Obesity. It might take 3-5 years of therapy (we vote "highly likely" on this one)…Heck, It might take ALL of these things, and more.
THINK ABOUT IT: In the past, most obese people did a horrible job of managing a healthy weight. In fact, an employer would have fired The Post-Op (Cari) after moments of observing her on the job, based on how she took care of her health when she was at her highest weight. The idea that anyone would magically and immediately be able to perform the job of taking good care of their health simply by having weight loss surgery seems a bit…far-fetched. Don't you think?
To live fully in Recovery From Obesity, people need regular and ongoing ON-THE-JOB TRAINING. If you want a certificate suitable for framing or perhaps a 90-Day chip from OA, and a smiley face on your lab results as rewards for your efforts – go for it! Positive reinforcement… in non-edible forms!
Recovery From Obesity is a full-time position that requires ON-THE-JOB TRAINING for a long, long time. Understand that the benefits are the result of your very own effort and investment (of both time and money). What sorts of "training" programs are you involved with aiding your "job performance" in Recovery From Obesity?
A Post Op & A Doc have a copy of the Gotta Do ‘Em’s (and a lot more free handouts for you) on our website and on our Facebook page.