Guy Talk aka How I Learned to Love Being Me

[zippyskippy 19]

Greetings fellow Sleevers,

On the eve of my 7 month anniversary I wanted to share some of my personal experiences, challenges and thoughts on the future. My goal was to share something with a particular focus on the fellas. Of course, I encourage all the ladies to join in if for no other reason than to sneak a peek into our little clubhouse

A little background. I have always been a "husky" sort of guy. Husky being the preferred euphemism when we want to gently want to refer to overall fatness. Lets just say I was tall and big (a genetic gift from my athletic parents) but in my youth I was never particularly interested in fitness or athleticism in any meaningful way. While I would like to say that changed when I joined the Army (yet another parental influence as the military is something of a family tradition) that would be self-deluding. Sure I got in "shape" but always aimed at doing the bare minimum to meet physical fitness standards and ate and drank like a true follower of the Greek god Dionysus. Upon leaving the military after only 4 years I made the first real miscalculation regarding my health. I was still eating like a much younger man and did not even have the benefit of daily physical activity to balance the scales (quite literally) in my favor. Bad move, dumb move and the weight started packing on.

Fast forward a decade or so and 40 lbs later and I knew a change needed to happen. Not only was my eating in excess (alcohol consumption was a distant memory at least) but I no longer had the metabolic advantages of youth and I was still largely sedentary. I could no longer chase my two daughters around nearly as much and working with them for their athletic pursuits was a real challenge. If there was ever a time for a change this was it. I drug myself to the gym with dreams of youth and former glory fresh in my mind. I had done my research and knew everything I needed to achieve. Of course like anyone who becomes a gym rat can affirm the knowing and doing are worlds apart. I persevered however and given my personal hatred of all things cardiovascular put a lot of emphasis on weight training.

Those were good times. Strength changes were noted weekly as those VERY well rested muscles were forced to awaken. Body composition changes came along much slower but every tiny change was a milestone and affirmation. Muscle definition started to form, waistline started to diminish and overall health improved significantly. The fact that my wife or more than 12 years was taking notice was the icing on the cake. My diet had changed too (almost without consideration). As I began to crave Protein and was much less drawn to the Snacks that were so appealing before. I was eating like a caveman, training like some wild beast and sleeping the sleep of the just. Then my self-inflated ego stepped in and I sustained my first significant injury. Such a minor challenge, the poor form deadlift repetition, one more pull . . . . . and snap goes the back disc. Disc bulging and hobbled my mind was the greater victim overall.

So what do you think I did? Had I learned from that first initial mistake? Surely I was going to adjust my caloric intake and food composition to account for this injury that would take me out of significant weight training for 6 months to a year? Not even remotely. I still ate like a caveman but was sitting on the couch and tossed and turned in the night. Fast forward, healed up and got refocused in the gym. This time I wanted to focus on my major lifts and give powerlifting a whirl. It seemed like a perfect fit. At this point I was 80+ lbs overweight and I sort of "looked" like those powerlifters putting up the big numbers. They got to eat whatever they wanted after all so it would all work out.

Powerlifting was a great experience. I did it as a hobby and eventually would attend some amateur meets (and get promptly destroyed). I kept my weight to just below 300 lbs to stay in a particular division but this was not done out of consideration of health but because in the heaviest division I was merely not competitive in any meaningful way. It was great watching those lift numbers go up and each increase was another notch on my weightlifting belt. This lasted for the better part of 4 years until again I pushed too hard. Back snap #2. Same disc (this time ruptured), same idiotic decision.

At this point I was nearly broken mentally and emotionally. Weight training had become part of my identity. Sure it did not rank even remotely close to my family but it was still an important part of who I was. Now I was eating "dirty", eating like a powerlifter and not working on those huge lifts. For the first time in my life self-pity began to creep in at the edges and snowballed out of control.

This miserable state lasted until the beginning of 2016. I was years beyond the point I could safely return to the gym but was still walking around in that self-pitying malaise. Even youth had abandoned me as I creeped towards the edge of middle aged and I watched my daughters turn into beautiful young women and secretly envied their youth. The breaking point for me was when the rock of my life, my better half, my wife looked at me from across the living room and said in the most loving of ways "You are going to die, you need to make a change". Sure my health was the worse it had ever been (high blood pressure, sleep apnea, fatty liver, high cholesterol and an unbelievable weight of 350+ lbs) but really being a doctor was just so much guesswork in a white coat . . . . . right? Faced with considerations about my own mortality and the fact that it was necessary for my wife to bring an emotional pole down right between my ears (necessary for us fellas sometimes unfortunately) I began to look at alternatives.

Dieting had been a losing prospect from the outset. While I had limited success it never seemed to stick or a considerably amount of time. Sure I could starve myself with the best of them but it would always result in either weight return after a short interval at best or increased weight at worst when I fell off the wagon. I did get back into the gym, which was a good confidence booster but I knew I would never be able to return to perceived glory. I needed that helping hand, that major advantage, the catalyst that would put me back on the right path. That was when I started researching weight loss surgery options.

I had seen some other family members go through the surgery to great success. Sure I thought it strange when they would not drink while eating their tiny portions of food. It was a little odd they would abstain from the pie or cake that decorated our family holidays. But for all that the results were undeniable. It also helped that my wife is a medical professional and worked with gastric surgery patients and co-workers routinely. The stage was set and it was only the waiting on the curtain to be pulled back that remained. Even despite all of this I was still worried about who I would become. I had no burning desire to be that weedy 170 guy who left the Army all those years ago. That guy looked fit on the outside but was scrawny, physically weak and it was hard finding jeans with small enough waists to fit my 6' 3" frame (think reverse Big and Tall). I also had no illusions about being a meat mountain of muscle. My mid 20's, those golden years of muscle development, were far in the rear-view mirror. Maybe something in between would suffice? Maybe compromise and realistic goals were the best decision? Hell, all I really wanted was to not die young and to be able to get up and down the stairs without breathing hard.

I was sleeved April 13th 2016. Of course if you have done it you know how miserable those first few weeks are. As I am particularly adverse to pain medication as a rule (call it a healthy self-awareness of my own addictive personality) it was fair to call it lousy at best. Eating did not come naturally in the first two weeks, I was in pain and in a fog. My body felt strange and without the necessary fuel I was exhausted all the time. Doubt began to take hold and it was my wife and daughters as well as these forum pages that kept me afloat. In the end, as it is in all things, time became my balm. Slowly hunger returned, although considerably diminished. Focuses on Protein sources became the priority and after a tough 3 weeks I began to feel human again. Years of weight training taught me to listen to my body. Whenever I had the energy I added things back to the normal routine. A month after surgery I was doing yard work, albeit a little slower than before. I was getting around the house great, descending into the basement and climbing to the bedroom. And was it getting easier? Was it easier than before? The pound were slipping away at an encouraging rate, and despite the normal stalls (I have had 3 "real" stalls in a 7 month period) I could see things changing for the better.

Fast forward to today. 7 months down and a lifetime to go. Total weight loss from my peak 8 months ago is at just a hair over 130 lbs. I got back in the gym 3 months after surgery and was shocked at my loss of strength. I knew I would have to sacrifice muscle mass for the pounds. They were the unfortunate collateral victims in this self-inflicted war. Even now, though I take happiness from every session. Watching those weight numbers go up and watching the inches melt away is more gratifying than any heavy deadlift I ever performed. I am happy with who I am becoming. I know I will never participate in another powerlifting meet (I am not even the strongest guy in my tiny gym anymore) and there is gray hairs starting to show up at my temples and in my beard. I am perhaps the healthiest I have been in my entire life. All lab numbers are within optimal ranges and I had to replace my entire wardrobe. While I have never been much for compromise, I would not deny that a large part of my success so far has been embracing the power of realistic expectations. I have accepted that I can never turn back the hands of time, or get back those years that self-pity gobbled up. I do not want to be a marathon runner, a bodybuilder or a powerlifter. I just want to be me and am damned glad I finally have that chance.

[Dawnislas 74]

I enjoyed your insight. I am struggling with the changes occurring even though I am 2 months out and feel healthy but not happier. It is puzzling. Thanks for sharing.

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