Banded Girl

I’m everybody’s cheerleader. I’m always encouraging my friends to treat themselves with care and pointing out the positive when all they can see is the negative. Depressed? But look at everything you’ve overcome! Depression doesn’t typically last forever! Good things will come your way! Not losing weight? Hey, you’re maintaining! You’re exercising! You’re working hard at changing your habits! Bad workout? You tried! Off days happen!

When it comes to myself, however, it’s a completely different story. Depressed? Snap out of it already. Not losing weight? Stop eating so much. Bad workout? Your body is completely incapable of doing such complicated movements.

Michelle at Sangria Sisters wrote a blog post several months ago about putting down her sword–about working to counter the nagging, self-doubting, self-critical voice in her head. I really, seriously need to do that.

I’ve always been very critical of myself for reasons I’m not totally aware of. I was valedictorian of my graduating class in high school, but I didn’t have a 4.0. I’m the third person in my family to ever graduate from college (my mom was the first, older cousin was the second), but I was 25 at the time and not 22. Also, $100,000 in loan debt (I want to cry every.single.time I think about that). I have a beautiful home, but it’s not spotless. I’m in a wonderful relationship with a fantastic man, but I don’t do enough for him. I’ve lost weight, but not fast enough and I still have so much to lose. I’m exercising, but not often enough.

And I allow it to hold me back. I want to write a book, but I’m not creative enough. I want to work for myself, but I’m not talented enough to make a living unless someone else pays me.

Is it any wonder I’m so depressed and tense? My self-critic has way too much control. I really need to take a page from Michelle’s book and lay down the freaking sword already.

Here’s my plan for achieving that:

Step one: Recognize the thoughts. I didn’t realize that I had all of this floating around in there until I started writing this post. I have a tendency to get lost in thought, but I never really know what those thoughts are. I don’t know if this is an ADHD thing or just a general self-awareness thing, but I’ve got to get it figured out.

Step two: Recognize that the thoughts might make sense on some level. Yes, BG, you could exercise more.

Step three: Recognize that the thoughts don’t make sense on a practical level. You’ve been exercising twice a week because your muscles are still getting used to being used. It’s taking two or three days to recover between workouts. It’s not because you’re lazy, it’s because you’re trying to increase your strength while remaining injury-free. More workouts will come with time.

Step four: Repeat.

It’s going to be difficult, I’m not gonna lie. But I have to cut myself some slack–this is not healthy.

I’m starting to wonder how much of my yearly December/January slump is seasonal (as in the four seasons) and how much is because of the holidays.

Anyway. Still in that period of blah, but I’m slowly surfacing. I have a list of things to write about and the process and act of writing is getting more and more doable every day.

I’ll be back in the swing of things soon :)

Eighteen months ago today, I had LAP-BAND surgery.

My plan was to spend the day thinking about all of the ways being banded has improved my life. I was going to write a post saying, “Hey, I’m a little plateaued right now, but here’s what I’ve accomplished!”

It’s not going to be like that, because I think such a post would ring false and you guys are smart enough to see through my BS.

For the first time in 18 months, I hate my band. HATE it.

Granted, some of it’s my fault. I ate a cookie before I had anything hot to drink. It was a really small chocolate dipped short bread cookie with a really soft peanut butter mousse inside. I got stuck, naturally. So, for a very long time, I was spitting up chocolate covered saliva. Nothing solid EVER came up. Ever.

I was quite hungry once my body gave me the all clear, so I tried to eat. And by “tried to eat” I really mean “drank some tea,” which got stuck. That’s right. Hot water infused with herbs got stuck. I couldn’t get it to go down. The Boy and I were, of course, at a restaurant at this stage. I, of course, had to rush to the restroom because what won’t go down must come up.

And I cried. For the first time in a year and a half I cried because I was so frustrated with my band. It seemed like this major betrayal–I’m not losing weight, I’m reading books telling me how to eat all over again, and I can’t drink TEA, let alone eat. I just couldn’t understand WHY I was allowing myself to go through all of this, and I would have reached through my chest and pulled the damn apparatus out if I could have.

It sounds so mundane and stupid now that I type it all out but I was really upset and even a bit brokenhearted, in large part due to the fact that I’d only had 80 calories by 1:00 in the afternoon. I was just done.

I do have a lot to be grateful for, which I’m painfully aware of. Eighteen months ago, I couldn’t walk up a half flight of stairs without feeling winded. My knees hurt incessantly, and I mean that literally. I had headaches daily. There’s no way I could run for two minutes without stopping. Size 16 jeans? A dream. Size 7.5 ring? Impossible. I struggled to fit in most booths. Airplane seat belts barely fit (I had to get the Boy to buckle it when we flew a few weeks before I had surgery) and now I have several inches of belt to spare. I can breathe more easily. I don’t snore anymore.

But today? Today I loathe my band.

Tomorrow will be better.

…I am frustrated.

I’m still trying to fight off whatever it is that’s trying to attack me. My asthma started kicking in this afternoon, so the next few days should be interesting.

I want to have a clean house, but I don’t have the time and energy to keep it clean. I just requested quotes from two cleaning services. Even if I can swing someone coming in once a month, I’ll feel much, much better and much less stressed. I’m going crazy with the mess and dust and…everything. If I don’t have to worry about the deep cleaning, I’m sure I can keep up with the daily stuff. I just get overwhelmed when I look around and see all that has to be done.

Switching subjects: I had to have my watch sent for repair a few weeks ago; something was wrong with the movement. The Boy got the mail today. My watch is back, but with scratches on the face. I’m angry.

I don’t know. I don’t really have a point. I’m just…overwhelmed and frustrated and ready to feel better. I’m so ready to feel normal again.

Food so far today:
Cafe au lait–290 cals, 11g protein
Eggs w/ bacon bits & cheese–235 cals, 19g protein
Cookie: 80 cals, 2g protein

I'm trying to smile, but it's just not working.

I have a pounding headache.

Okay, that’s not true. It doesn’t pound. It’s just a sharp, intense, constant, painful kind of headache. Great.

Still. Going to try running again tonight. Tuesday night didn’t go so well, but I tried :) I might be hungry. I might be tired. I might be a lot of things, really.

I went to the doctor yesterday. My blood pressure was high. I’m not back on meds yet, but I could be if it doesn’t go back down to 120/80 again.

Boo.

Did start documenting rashes to (maybe) get insurance to (help) pay for surgery. Also got his opinion on a goal weight–he says to aim for 170. I think that sounds about right, but I’m leaving it at 180 for now.

The Boy and I left Phoenix on Thursday night to go to Las Vegas. Every October, I meet my family in Sin City (you can read about last year’s trip here and here); this year was the Boy’s first time going with me. He’d met one of my uncles and my grandmother before, but it was his first time seeing my other uncle, my older cousin, and her husband (I have two other cousins who couldn’t make it this year and an aunt who never goes). I figured that, seeings how we’ve been together for almost three years, it was time to ease him into my family a little more :) Here are the highlights:

Weight Loss: Let me preface this by saying that I’ve lost about 65 pounds since last year, which was also the last time I saw any of my family members other than Mom. By the time the Boy and I got there Thursday night, my grandmother was in bed. On Friday morning, I saw her on the casino floor before she saw me…she didn’t even recognize me when I walked up to her! Both of my uncles commented, which is proof at how much I’ve changed physically over the past year. If they noticed, it’s dramatic!

The Band: Tight. I struggled to eat the entire time we were there and after we got home last night. Mom told my family that I had a hiatal hernia and was having difficulty because of it. We were afraid that a bulimia/anorexia rumor would start circulating after a few trips away from the table Friday night.

The Show: One of my uncles is a November baby, just like me. Every other year, Mom treats us to show tickets as our birthday present. Five years ago, we saw KÀ by Cirque Du Soleil; two years ago we saw Phantom – The Las Vegas Spectacular; this year, we saw Blue Man Group.

We never know what we’re going to see beforehand. The procedure is generally thus: Mom hands me an envelope with tickets in it, puts Uncle and me in a cab, and tells the driver where to go. We’re not allowed to open the envelope before we reach the casino.

This year, she had to pick up the tickets at will call because she forgot to put them in Uncle’s name. We got to the Venetian and she told us that we were looking for the signs pointing us to Blue Man Group. I may have kinda sorta squealed a little bit out loud. I’ve wanted to see one of their performances for years and years and years. It was awesome. So so awesome! AND I bought a shirt, size XL, to commemorate the experience. It’s baggy even without stretching it out!

The Gambling: I don’t have a lot of money to spare, so I didn’t gamble a lot. I did win almost $300 on a penny slot machine, though!! Because of that, I think I just about broke even when you take food, a couple of souvenirs, and the like into consideration.

==========

I’ve been sad since yesterday morning, though. It’s true that my grandmother did a double take when she saw me, but I almost did one when I saw her. She looks so much smaller and more fragile than she did a year ago. She’s not breathing well at all and her hands and ankles are swollen beyond belief. Mom’s been telling me that my grandmother’s not been doing well; I think Mom was trying to prepare me.

I think this is going to be our last Las Vegas trip. I don’t think that we’ll go back as a family after she dies. Even if we do, it’s not going to be the same. And, I realized a few minutes ago, I’m seriously mourning that. I’ve looked forward to these trips for years. They’re a chance to leave Phoenix for a few days and to see family members I don’t have contact with otherwise. They’re a chance to hang out Downtown with my mom, to sit with her on the casino floor and gamble and talk. They’re a chance to relax. It’s our tradition–the only one our family has. Going with friends or the Boy just doesn’t have the same appeal to me (and the Boy hates it there anyway).

I really can’t put into words how heartbroken I am.

So I’ve been doing some emotional eating today (damn that purchase at M&M World), and now I feel spectacularly gross. While I didn’t eat much while we were gone and we did walk quite a bit, I don’t think I’m going to be able to get away with all of the calories I consumed today.

Anyway. There it is.

Starting Weight: 298.2 pounds
Last Week’s Weight: 211.0 pounds
Today’s Weight: 211.0 pounds

Same. I’m trying hard to not feel battered, bruised, and betrayed by my body. I’ve exercised hard and put a lot of thought into my food choices over the last week, but…. Even though I knew I probably wasn’t going to see a lower number today, I’m still struggling.

Honestly though, I don’t think that today’s number is the reason for my upsetedness. I found out last night that a friend’s cancer has probably returned and I’m really having a hard time with it. I’m just tired of watching people around me deal with the disease and its aftermath. I’ve watched as friends struggled through chemo. I was there when my grandmother was being treated. Cancer was a contributor to my grandfather’s death. I know two families who have lost their young daughters to the disease. I wish I knew why such a horrible, horrible thing existed.

*shrugs* As far as weight loss goes, I’ll be okay as long as I don’t plateau. I don’t know if I’d be able to deal well with a plateau right now.

Edit: Oh yeah, totally forgot…. Two weeks to lose 11.2 pounds. Hahahahahaha!!!! *sigh*

What do you do when you don’t feel well?

I still feel decidedly unwell. For two weeks, I’ve had nearly constant low-level nausea, sometimes joined by really intense headaches and/or gas. I also lack energy in a major way.

I haven’t been exercising simply because I barely have energy to complete day-to-day tasks, but I feel like I should get on the treadmill and go. I’m not going to be able to do the half marathon if I don’t get started.

Thoughts?

Also, on an even whinier note, I’ve noticed that the banded blog sphere is on fire about doing the Princess Half Marathon after one person made a post about it over the weekend. Shows what an impact I have, as I’ve been writing about it since March.

I’m tired of analyzing and reanalyzing everything I eat.

Does this have enough protein? What are the ingredients? How many calories does this have? Will this prevent me from seeing a loss? Is this going to help me feel full for a while? Is this something the Boy will eat? Will this food and my band play well together? Is this more than a cup? Is there a better option? When did I eat last? What did I eat last?

I think about the future, about a lifetime of this almost continual debate going on in my brain, and it feels very bleak and depressing.

In the before time, when I felt destined to a life of obesity, I didn’t have to think about what I ate. I didn’t worry about Every. Single. Calorie. I was going to be fat anyway, did it really matter what I put in my body? I had complete freedom to ingest anything I wanted.

I didn’t step on the scale each Thursday, trying to anticipate which number would glow up at me. I didn’t feel a twinge of disappointment when the number was larger than the previous week’s or because my loss wasn’t what I wanted it to be.

When you’re a size 26/28, there’s not a lot of clothing variety. If I wanted to go into a brick and mortar store to look around (which rarely ever happened), I would go to Torrid or Lane Bryant. After Sunday’s Lane Bryant expedition, I realized with some panic that I wasn’t going to be able to shop there much longer since I now wear their smallest size. That means that I fit into “normal people” clothes now and that there are approximately half a billion stores in every mall where I can go to shop. I don’t know where to start and part of me feels embarrassed at the thought of stepping into them. There’s no way in hell those skinny people clothes will fit me! I don’t want to have to ask for a dressing room and then leave the store empty handed because I couldn’t get anything on.

What it ultimately boils down to is that I still feel like the fat girl. I know that I’m close to a “normal” size now, but I still feel like I did 83 pounds ago. I know that I’m much thinner, that I can fit in smaller clothes, that my knees don’t continually hurt any more, and that I have started to develop collar bones, but I look in the mirror and see the same Banded Girl that I saw last May. It feels like all of this effort is getting me nowhere; that I’m agonizing over every food decision and faithfully weighing myself each week for nothing.

I wonder if my brain will ever catch up.