I. AM. ENOUGH. (or am I?)

I am a failure. It’s not certain that I have failed, but I am nearly 100 percent sure that I have failed. On one hand, I feel ashamed. Embarrassed. Humiliated. Ridiculous. I feel like an impostor. The number on the scale looks back at me and taunts me, but the last few weeks, I feel like it’s been laughing at me. Reminding me that I am in impostor. 

On the other hand, I’m reminding myself of how far I have come. And I don’t mean just the weight I’ve lost and the number of pounds that have gone. My habits have changed; I’ve made exercise an integral part of my life (finally!) and realized that I don’t live to eat anymore, but I eat to live. I’ve gotten rid of some of the negativity in my life, including negative people, a negative job situation, and I might have even learned to love myself again (or for the first time.)

But the one question keeps nagging at me, is it enough? I want to believe it to be true, that I AM Enough. It’s become my mantra since a friend from high school reminded me so encouragingly and eloquently in March that I am enough and more than a number on a scale. It was solidified as my mantra when another friend sent me a bracelet with those very words inscribed after she had read my blog about it. It serves as a happy reminder that I am enough. But still, I doubt. Still, I feel like an impostor.

Losing weight has been an extremely emotional journey for me; perhaps more emotional than I ever gave it credit for. I’ve been spending months trying to put my finger on it, and this week I finally landed on how exactly I felt- like an IMPOSTOR. To be honest, I’ve always felt this way. I can remember as a child when I got praise for something or – mainly for good grades – or achieved an academic success, that someone was going to figure me out and uncover me as the fraud I really was. I’ve felt this way literally all of my life, and I think it’s a big reason why I’ve never been able to keep the weight off despite having lost weight several times before. Even now when I open my eyes in the morning I have this fear that I’ve put the weight back on and I won’t have any clothes that fit.

In a way, the weight I carried has masked my insecurity. And in turn, I was highly insecure about the extra weight I was carrying. That’s quite the vicious cycle! But as I near 41 years old, I wonder if that mask was the real me? Maybe the real me is fat? 

I also realize now that I’ve felt this way my entire life. I’ve never quite been able to put my finger on it, but I’ve never felt like I was enough, no matter how good I was at something or how good my grades were, or how much I was praised for it. I just keep thinking “someone’s gonna figure me out.”

A few years ago, like every woman in America it seems, I read Sheryl Sandberg’s pro-female, career gospel about empowering women to achieve, Lean In. I was hooked. It was there that I first read about Impostor syndrome. Impostor syndrome, also known as impostorism or the impostor phenomenon, is like self-doubt, but on steroids. It’s more than insecurity about yourself or your abilities. According to Harvard Business School Professor Amy Cuddy, it is a paralyzing fear that we don’t belong and that we’ve fooled people into thinking that we are much more talented than we actually are. Another facet is realizing others AREN’T impostors, and that they actually deserve to be in a successful situation, oftentimes over you.

Yes! Yes! All of this.Yes!! I had never mentioned this feeling to anyone, but I felt this way all of the time. About everything. And, I’d never heard anyone else talk about it. It was like one of my biggest secrets. I kept living in fear that I would be figured out. And I still do to this day.

But now, my feelings of impostorism are about being fat. Now, I am not skinny by any means, but I feel like any day I’m going to be “outed” as a fat person and wake up that way again. (I mean seriously, I wake up in the morning and one of the first things I do is feel my stomach.) I still feel like an impostor, just a skinnier one. Fat covers up so much other stuff, stuff I didn’t even realize I was feeling.

Now, back to the weight loss journey – I’ve had a huge realization! I’ve realized I’ve been afraid to be skinny for years. I know that may sound crazy, but I got comfortable being the funny, fat girl in the room. Yep, Rebel Wilson and Melissa McCarthy, if I too had been discovered, I would have killed it in Bridesmaids and Pitch Perfect.) I learned to hide as a fat girl, which is very ironic, because you are so physically visible to people, but so often overlooked. You can pretty much be invisible if you want to me. And a lot of times, contrary to my extroverted personality, I wanted to be. Frankly, I figured out a long time ago it was easier to be the fat funny girl, than to be the fit, in-shape skinny girl. People just expected less of you. They expected you to make them laugh and you would always be there for them (because where else were fat girls gonna be on Friday nights?)

I feel like I’m rambling a bit, but lately I’ve been trying to process the emotions I’ve had on this journey. And I have this nagging feeling that I am not enough. And that I never have been enough. And that I’m a failure. Even when I sometimes have a false sense of feeling enough, I feel semi-confident and then I’m knocked back down to the impostor that I am.

A couple of weeks ago I had a realization that led to a minor meltdown with Tom. Again, it was my impostorism creeping in. (Bless his heart, he gets to hear all of these, and he always knows exactly what to say.) One morning it occurred to me that I was going to fail. I wasn’t going to make my #100byJune24 goal. And I felt like I was going to throw up and have my heart stop beating all at the same time. How could I possibly fail at this? I was so focused! Hell, I’ve been blogging about it and even created a damn hashtag. But obviously, I wasn’t focused enough. I began to feel ridiculous, and maybe even start to ugly cry. Then Tom looked at me, put his arms around me and simply said, “so, you’ll just revise your goal. It’s just a number, Dawn. You need to focus on how far you’ve come… you’ve set this goal for yourself, no one else did. So you can revise It. You’ve lost 86 pounds, you look amazing, you look fit and are healthy. Who cares if you reach 100 pounds by an arbitrary date?”

Wow. Just wow. For a man who sometimes doesn’t say a lot, he said so much. He was right. And I wanted to believe him. I tried to believe him. But still, not making this goal makes me feel like a failure. Like an impostor. Not Enough.

I am very aware how ridiculous this all sounds. And like my other posts, I don't want your pity or for you to feel sorry for me in any way. I also know it doesn’t make much sense to most of you. I’ve revised my goal to #90byJune24, but it doesn’t have the same ring to it. It’s like 3^rd place or worse- a participation trophy or ribbon. And dammit, I wanted 1^st place. I wanted 100 pounds.

I know I will get there eventually and then I can make another goal. I’m still very much a work in progress. I’m reading up more on impostor syndrome and some tips to overcome the debilitating feeling of being a fraud. (I like these tips a lot https://startupbros.com/21-ways-overcome-impostor-syndrome/ ) 

But for now, I keep taking it one day at a time, and sometimes, just one hour at a time. I have made a vow to not get on a scale until June 24, and I hope it says I’ve lost at least 90 pounds. I also hope I don’t cry because it doesn’t say 100 pounds. But I owe a June picture (somehow May slipped by and we didn't get one), so here is one of me wearing my weekend baseball mom attire. Yep, those are those shorts I so desperately wanted to wear, and I look at them everywhere. I am a little obsessed with them right now. They are so comfortable.

June 10, 2017
Approximately 9 1/2 months post-surgery 

 I also wear my bracelet everyday (thanks Lynn Cooper!) It has been a nice reminder for me, especially when I think that someone is going to come in and "out" me as not being qualified for my job, not being as smart as they think I have been, or frankly, as being a fat girl, I look down and desperately try to remember that I am more than just a number on a scale. I try to remember that I. AM. ENOUGH. 

A Tale of Two Physicians

When a physician takes the Hippocratic Oath, he or she swears to uphold ethical standards of the medical profession, respect the privacy of patients, prevent disease whenever possible and a wealth of other noble responsibilities.  But perhaps the most important responsibility a physician has to uphold is to “first do no harm.”

This is the tale of two physicians that have played very significant roles in my family’s lives over the past year or so, and the distance that separates the very different “bedside manners” of each. One is the surgeon who performed my weight loss surgery; the other, the one who removed my mother’s cancerous kidney. As patients who are going through a traumatic experience (and let’s face it, some instances to see a physician are more traumatic than others, but they all share some degree of seriousness,) we expect a level of bedside manner to ease us through our medical issue. Of course, some patients need more coddling than others and for that matter, some situations call for more patient coddling. (And speaking as a frequent patient who has had multiple surgeries including c-sections, gallbladder removal, appendectomy and most recently a gastric sleeve procedure, I myself have needed different levels of coddling.) I also realize that being a doctor is hard. One must balance the high-level stress of holding someone else’s life in your hands, while also knowing how to treat a variety of ailments, with the emotions that come with being human and helping your patients through the range of emotions. It is certainly a profession that is not for everyone, and one that I could never tackle. It should also be mention that I have an immense amount of respect for physicians, nurses, EMTs and anyone in the medical profession. Some of them, however, seem to handle their responsibilities to “do no harm” a little better than others. And “harm,” doesn’t just refer to the physical and medical conditions. The emotional aspect of seeing a physician can be just as traumatic for the patient.

The two physicians to which I am referring could not be further apart on the “bedside manner” scale. As you likely know, about a year ago, I decided to undergo gastric sleeve surgery to aid in weight loss. I did not take this decision lightly and I did lots of research, talked to many patients who had the procedure done, and spent lots of time talking to doctors, nurses, dieticians, psychologists, etc., before taking this very drastic step. It should be noted that I am so very thankful I did this surgery – it has completely changed my life! However, had I been able to choose another surgeon to perform this procedure, I certainly would have. I am not going to mention this surgeon’s name on this blog, but he is the leading bariatric surgeon in Memphis and I promise you can ask anyone in the medical profession or one of his past patients and they will agree with me. He is an a$$hole. He is the most miserable human being I have ever met. Period.

While he may be a great “technician” at his craft, his bedside manner is the worst. He has no ability to connect with his patients on a personal level. I’ve seen him on several occasions now, and he says the same thing every time. He has a script from which he reads and he offers no words of encouragement to his patients. I have chosen to sit there and stare blankly at him until he has finished his script, but I’m quite sure he has had some people yell and him and call him everything in the book. You may recall during my last visit to him, he berated me throughout the entire visit. It. Was. Awful. I knew I hadn’t lost as much weight as I should have, and trust me, I didn’t really need him to tell me that. Of course, I didn’t want him to coddle me, hug me and tell me everything was going to be ok, but I did want him to give me solutions and offer help. But what did he do? He told me losing weight was easy- “you just don’t eat as much and you exercise.” Then he proceeded to tell me that he himself lost 14 pounds the previous month because he wanted to. He just ate less. (I’m going to pause for a moment and let that sink in.)

Of course! That’s it. The solution to all of my weight problems for years and years was just that simple- I want to, so I just simply eat less and exercise more. Of course I realize that scientifically, that is exactly how it works. However, life isn’t really scientific. Raising kids and being married and working full time isn’t scientific, either. But I will cut him some slack and agree that yes, scientifically, that’s how it works.

But let’s get real. Doesn’t he think that if it were that easy for me (and so many others), I would never be in his office in the first place? Doesn’t he know that admitting you can’t achieve your weight loss goals alone after 40 years (give or take) of trying and finally admitting you need medical help and a surgeon to remove 70% of your stomach as the only way it will happen is humiliating enough? Obviously he doesn’t. Of course, Doctor, I should just eat less. Or as he likes to say in his script, stop eating Sonic Blasts. It’s obviously that simple.

The other physician was my mom’s urologist, Dr. Adam Stewart of Conrad Pearson Clinic. He sits on the opposite side of the spectrum. I haven’t shared this news publicly yet, but at the beginning of the month, in what was a whirlwind of a few days, my mom was diagnosed with kidney cancer. Luckily, she listened to her body and within 48 hours of symptoms, she was at the hospital getting a series of tests and was diagnosed with that awful word. The ER physician at Methodist Germantown was delightful and conferred with Dr. Stewart. (Everyone at Methodist Germantown was delightful, by the way.) He got my mom into his office Monday (we were at the hospital on Friday) and he said very plainly, “it is cancer and I want to get that kidney out quickly. If I have trouble scheduling it with the hospital, I will admit you and take it out that way. I will game the system if I must to get it that kidney out tomorrow or Wednesday.”

Dr. Stewart answered all of our questions, gave us so much information and was very, very honest. He didn’t coddle my mom (nor me or my brother), but was gentle, caring, used the appropriate amount of humor to lighten the situation, and was simply human. My father died from cancer, so hearing the word cancer was like a kick in the gut to us. But my mom being the super woman she is, put on her positive attitude and said “Let’s get this kidney out today!!” He was able to remove the entire kidney two days later and he was so wonderful with the group of family that we had at the hospital with us. He even talked directly to my two kids, explaining how he had gotten her kidney by “just reaching in there and grabbing it and pulling it out.” Well done, Doc. You know how to speak to two young boys! J He put us at ease when things were happening so fast and when the word “cancer” was all we heard.  

She stayed in the hospital for two nights and came home on a Friday- a week to the day we got that cancer diagnosis.  She rested for a few days, then went back to see Dr. Stewart for a follow up, and he let us know the cancer had not spread anywhere else, he got it all when he got the kidney, and she was CANCER FREE! She wouldn’t even have to have any chemo. She will get scanned every six months or so, but she could go on about her business being a busy grandma yelling at baseball games. She would just now do it with one kidney!

My spry and spunky Mama Sue with two
of her wonderful grandchildren (minus one kidney!) 

Y’all, I promise if you need a surgical urologist, look no further than Dr. Brian Stewart. I’m sure there are other great urologists in Memphis, but he will be my family’s go-to from now on!

So now back to the other physician. I realize the bariatric surgeon doesn’t have an easy job, and he has to put up some sort of shield because some of his patients (probably most) are in complete denial about how much food they truly consume, their poor eating and exercise habits, and just what it actually does take to maintain a healthy weight. But I know he can do better. There are other physicians at St. Francis that do this procedure and I’ve heard from those patients that they do a much better job with bedside manner.  Perhaps this doctor can learn from them.

First do no harm. If you’ve ever had to go the doctor for your child, family member or yourself, you know there is more than the physical pain that accompanies the visit. The emotional toll can just about be as bad as thee physical pain. Any doctor can – and should—be able to treat the physical ailment and be a skilled “technician.” But finding the right balance of being a skilled “technician,” with just the right amount of heart for your patients is the sweet spot. And in reading the Hippocratic Oath, I think that is essentially the point. In this year filed with a lot of physician visits and interaction, I can tell you that Dr. Stewart upheld that every bit of that oath, and we will be forever grateful.  

The Post I've Been Waiting For

It's spring in the Mid-South and that means a couple of things are for certain while the weather is warming up to the  "seven layers of hell" hot we in Memphis call summer: 

• There is yellow pollen everywhere. Yes everywhere. Cars, parking lots, EVERY WHERE. And we sneeze and have itchy eyes. A LOT. (It's also funny when people that don't live here come and visit and ask "what is this yellow stuff that coats everything?" hahah) 
• Flip flops (and pedicures) are a MUST. No one loves flip flops more than me, but please do me a favor. Ladies, if you are going to show us your toes, please ensure they are pedicured and painted. 
• The Ray family is always at the baseball field. ALWAYS. If you need us, that's where we are. If you invite us somewhere, chances are we can't, because our boys play baseball. (And yes, we enjoy it!! A LOT!) 
• People will start wearing skimpy summer clothes before it is actually time to wear them. (Y'all know it is true.) 
• I can finally wear those shorts! 

Yes, the post that started it all helped me tell the world I was going on a weight-loss journey -- the Nike running shorts. I finally bought a pair, well, three actually!  And I must say, I love them! I've worn them around the house and while walking. Can't wait to wear them to the ball field this weekend. 

Now, a word about those shorts: they. are. short. (at least they are for me.) I haven't really worn shorts in a long time, and when I did, they were a tad longer than these- thank God Bermuda shorts were in style. But i'm slowly getting use to them. 

I wanted to rush out and buy them a few weeks ago, but I gave myself a goal: I wouldn't purchase them until I lost 80 pounds. And I met that goal!!! So you better believe I hightailed it to Academy and bought myself some shorts. It was fun to go shopping there (we seem to go there so much, it is the Ray boys' favorite store) and actually find something to fit. Even Tom got into the act! 

Now, I still have a ways to go before I reach my goal (#100byJune24) but I'm on my way. I have had to hit Ctrl + Alt + Del (on a much smaller scale than a couple of months ago) once or twice, but as we tell our kids, that's the beauty of tomorrow. You get to start over. And some days it seems i start over every day, but that's okay. 

I feel like all of my entire support system was there with me when I made this big purchase. Every card, e-mail, text message, hug at the ball field or at the grocery store or at a school function has been so encouraging to me. So for that, I owe you, dear readers, my April progress photo (sorry it's so late, had a few things going on.) So here you go... shorts and all. 

Post run last week... in my SHORTS!! 

Just want to give a big shout-out to my tribe for making this happen. More to go in this journey, but i couldn't have done it without you! 

Ctrl + Alt + Delete

Ctrl + Alt + Delete. It's my favorite computer command. Anytime my computer freezes up, I finagle my fingers around the keyboard and punch those three keys. And voila! I get options...  I can log off, change my password or even, my personal favorite- "start task manager." It may not be the proper term, but I use this to reboot or reset my computer.  

After my last visit to the doctor, you will recall that I needed a reboot. A bit of a do-over. A reset.  After I had those ugly cries, I went to see the nutritionist. She was so helpful and really served as much of a psychologist as anything else. She gave me some great ideas as to a variety of things to eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and we talked through expectations. (Truly, this was something of which I was in desperate need.)  She also gave me permission to relax and not be so hard on myself. I really think I needed that. From someone I considered a professional. It was a relief. 

The next day, I got my mind in high gear and I planned out my foods and prepped them. I took my snacks and lunches to the baseball games with me, and exercised like I had been doing. And I have kept it up. I just needed a reboot. 

I heard from so many friends and family members, some great words of encouragement, kinship and love. One of those came through Facebook, from someone with which I went to high school. She now lives in Ohio and I honestly can't even remember the last time I saw her in person, but I keep up with her on Facebook. She wrote me the nicest, most encouraging message that touched me deeply. She told me about a podcast she listens to called "Revelation Wellness"and it is grounded in Christianity and walks you through exercise with some scripture along the way. But more than that, she told me "Dawn, you are enough." Those four words hit me like a truck. She was right. I am enough. And I hated that I forgot that. I hated that my doctor's unkind truth and lack of bedside manner made me feel horrible about myself. I AM ENOUGH! Thanks, Rebecca, for reminding me. 

Those words have been in my head since I got that message from her. On Thursday, I decided to get on the scale. In addition to doing what I knew I needed to do, I had my mind right again. And I lost 3.5 pounds in a week! I am under no illusion that it is going to be easy. There are going to be bumps and detours, and maybe even some fender-benders on this road, but the beauty is, I can get right back on it. I can ctrl + alt + delete at any time. 

So it's time for my March photo, but first, indulge me in a little story. I've always admired runners. I am amazed as you effortlessly run down the sidewalk with your iPod, mostly looking like you're not even sweating. Or how you run 5ks in 15 seconds and then grab a beer at the finish line. How you post pics of you in an ice bath after a "long run."  Especially how you train for months and months and months and run a marathon. It's always been mesmerizing to me. I long to have a "runner's high" (for just about anything, honestly.) I've tried to run before, but it never seemed to catch on. 

Well, this Saturday, March 11, 2017 was a milestone for me. I went to the gym to get in a workout and I decided to see how long I could run on a treadmill without stopping. I set my mind to get to 1/2 mile. Once I got there -- and didn't die -- I decided to push it to see if I could run 3/4 of a mile. Once I got there -- and didn't die -- I decided to go for a mile. A WHOLE MILE! WITHOUT STOPPING!! And I did it!!!! And guess what!?!?!?! I didn't die!!! 

It felt great!!! I paused the treadmill and took a photo to send to Tom. And you know what, I realized I WAS enough. No matter how many pounds I have or haven't lost, I just ran a mile without stopping. Of course, it took me 16 minutes, but still. I was enough. And for now, a 16-minute mile was enough! 

So for March's progress photo, I'm showing you my post-workout self. Sweaty, but victorious! 

A Victory Photo
A 16-minute mile never felt so good! 

And it might be my favorite photo yet! I'm strong, confident and enough. Thanks for the encouraging words, Rebecca Walden, they have been in my head constantly and have meant so much to me.And you're right, it's not about how many pounds I've lost, or how fast my mile was, it's about me. About being healthier for my family and enjoying life with them. It's about me having more energy to see my kids do the things they love. About me hitting ctrl + alt + delete and resetting. But most importantly, it's about me being enough. 

Ugly Cries are the Worst (And I didn’t even watch the Notebook)

Everyone is entitled to a good cry now and again. We all have them. You know the one I’m talking about, too - the ugly cry. Where your eyes are puffy the rest of the day and your face is red and blotchy. The “I just watched ‘The Notebook’ ugly cry.” When I began to document this journey on my blog, I promised you the good, bad and the ugly. Well, I had an ugly cry today. Twice in fact. All before 9:30 am. and it lived up to its descriptor (Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams not included.) It. Was. Ugly.

(Depending on how you know me and how long you have known me, this news will either confirm what you know about me or shock you as I fall into one of two categories for people that know me- I cry all the time (as in when I was in elementary school) or I never cry (as in something happened to me in adulthood and I became a person who doesn’t even cry when most people cry. It’s weird.) But it is who I am and I have no in between, really.

First, let me just say, I’m not asking for your sympathy. Everyone cries, I understand that. Everyone has bad days, and in reality, the reason I ugly cried will sound ridiculous to some of you. Heck, it would normally sound ridiculous to me. You all have been amazing to me over this journey and your support has meant so much to me, and while I appreciate even the thought of your sympathy for my crying today, spare me. Your sympathy is not what I need right now.

Today I had my six-month post-gastric sleeve checkup, and never could I have ever imagined that losing weight would make me feel like a complete and utter failure. But I do. (Hence, the ugly cry.)

First of all, I will tell you that I had some anxiety about this doctor’s visit. I didn’t sleep well last night and I’ve been dreading this visit for a couple of weeks. Why, you ask? Well, I don’t get on the scale too often, but when I did over the last couple of months, I noticed my weight wasn’t going down the way it once was. I was stalled. So I tried to push that out of my mind—sometimes I can compartmentalize like a dude (sorry fellas), and I apparently did. I just buried it on down somewhere and chose not to deal with it. I knew the reasons why the weight wasn’t coming off like it had been, but I pushed them down deep into a place in my brain I don’t visit often. And I convinced myself that everything was fine. But it wasn’t.

So here goes… the reason for the ugly cry is that in three months, I have only lost four pounds. And that, according to my doctor, is a complete failure and I have done poorly. I have “reverted back to the same bad habits that got me here in the first place.” And as much as I hate to say it, he is right. (Ugh, that tasted like vinegar just typing it.) He’s right. That’s why I was compartmentalizing it. I knew I wasn’t doing things right. I knew I had lost focus. And I knew this doctor’s appointment would be the day of reckoning.

Now, before I ugly cry again, let me say that losing four pounds in 3 months is MUCH better than gaining any weight. (Well, not according to my doctor; he said it is the same as gaining and the four pounds doesn’t really count. But I can guarantee I would have cried a heck of a lot more had I gained some weight.) 

And after nearly 12 hours of processing this and feeling sorry for myself, I know that this is all going to be okay. I know that I will be okay. And I get it. I have lost a lot of weight—70 pounds!!!! If anyone would have told me that a year ago I would not have believed them. So what’s the problem??? Statistics show that the weight you lose from months 3-9 indicate how successful you will be going forward. So what about the first 3 months? According to the doctor, “it’s easy to lose weight the first 3 months because we cut out your stomach,” so going back after 3 months and having only lost 4 pounds in 3 months is a failure. And if I stay on this track, I will have failed at this surgery. But more importantly, I will have failed myself. So, while I was considering it a huge success that for the first time EVER in my life I didn’t gain weight from Thanksgiving until New Year’s, I actually failed. Miserably. And the sad part is, deep down, I knew it. I didn’t need my doctor to tell me that.

And sure, I have excuses. Always do. Excuses are what got me here in the first place. But instead of giving you excuses, dear friends, I will give you the reasons why I have let this happen. I’ve actually known them all along—remember, I buried them deep in my brain!) Today, I was forced to confront them. And I confronted them with an ugly cry.

So, let me outline the reasons (not excuses) for this “poor performance”:

•  I got lazy with the food prep: this gets me every time. We’ve got people going all over the place in our house – sports, school, work, sometimes travel for work and I’ve been focusing on making exercise a part of my regular life and some days I feel lucky just have gotten dressed and out the door on time. So yep, I got lazy with the food prep. And I grabbed what was in the fridge. And I didn’t always grab the right thing. And chips. So… chips.

•  I totally forgot I had a nutritionist at my disposal… How could I have forgotten this? That’s what she is there for. DUH!!! I was struggling with the right things to eat and a nutritionist was there for me the whole time.  As I have reflected on this, I know exactly why I forgot about the nutritionist. It’s because I associate everyone and everything in that office with the doctor- and I want to see him as little as possible. So I put the nutritionist out of my mind. Also, I thought I could do this myself. “Hahhahaha! Yet again, Dawn, you can’t do it by yourself, you silly fool!” And to answer your question, yes, I’m going to see the nutritionist. 

• I found the candy bucket: “My stomach is small, so a little small piece of candy won’t do any harm, will it?” Yes, Dawn, yes it will. (Of course, one little piece of candy every once in a while doesn’t hurt anything. But it adds up. And I’m proof.) Result? I have given up candy for lent. ☺

• I convinced myself that what I was doing was enough: “You are exercising, so you can have a couple of French fries or a cookie at night. Or a small piece of cake. The exercise will take care of it.” No, it won’t. If I eat that way, I will NOT lose weight. PERIOD.

• I convinced myself that exercising was going to take care of it: One bright note in all of this is my exercise habit. I will say that I am very proud of my exercise regime. I am exercising 4 days a week (usually 5) and I don’t hate it. But exercising isn’t enough. And I know that. It seems I was so focused on patting myself on the back for exercising that I lost focus on the other stuff- like making good food choices. And … chips.

• I didn’t make smart food choices:  see candy bucket, chip consumption and cake confession above.

• I had no goal:  for me, I think this might have been the biggest one. I need a goal to work toward. Since surgery, my doctor hasn’t given me a goal. He’s said vague things like “everyone loses at different rates, so you might lose anywhere from 70-80 percent of your excess body weight within a year.” I thought I was doing so well the first 3 months that I would just keep on going and would eventually get to a goal. But I needed a tangible GOAL in MEASURABLE terms. I don’t deal with “excess body weight percentages” or even BMI. I deal with and understand pounds!! And that’s what I have needed.

I’ve been playing with a goal in my mind for a while and now I’m committing to it the way we do it in 2017, with a hashtag… #100byJune24 – that’s 16 weeks and 2 days from today – 114 days. I picked June 24 because it is my birthday and a date I can work toward. And hashtags are the new language we all talk in and seem to keep you accountable. 114 days?? I’ve got this.

And this last reason is a tough pill to swallow, but the truth always is…

·        Hubris (simply put, I got cocky): here I am, losing so much weight, so quickly. Looking good. Got some new clothes (I just bought a large shirt y’all, a LARGE!!!) 😃 Getting so many compliments, and I got cocky. “Sure, I can have a glass of wine. Just one won’t hurt.” WRONG! (insert your favorite Donald Trump WRONG meme here.) I gave myself permission that I could, but that certainly didn’t mean that I should.

Now pride is a good thing. But hubris is a dangerous thing. Ultimately, it’s what killed Walter White on Breaking Bad. (If you are a regular reader of my blog, you know I consider that to be one of the best shows ever made.) Sure turning into a drug kingpin didn’t do him much good, but his hubris – his overwhelmingly excessive pride and self-confidence that he wouldn’t get caught -- is ultimately what killed him. He had more than enough money to ensure his family was taken care of, but his pride at making the best meth and taking control of the entire meth ring was what ultimately led to his death. Come to think of it, it was a major character flaw for Don Draper on Mad Men also. (well that, alcohol and being a sexist womanizer.)  Damn! Did I not learn anything from Walter White and Don Draper??!?!?!?!

Of course I realize these examples are a bit dramatic, but are an example of how excessive pride can impact you to the point of no return. That, and I always seem to find flawed male TV characters oddly relatable.)

So that’s it. That’s why I ugly cried. (Truthfully, I still may again one more time today.) And ’m not mad at my doctor- well, I still kind of am because he is a complete a$$hole, but I’m really mad at myself more than anything. But I guess I had to learn the hard way—seems that is always the case, huh?

But after today I will move on. I will hit the reset button. My husband reminded me in all of this blubbering ugly crying that every journey is filled with bumps, detours and sometimes even crashes along the way. And that’s what this is, just a bump and a slight detour. It’s definitely not a crash.

And as we always tell our kids when they have a bad day—the best thing about tomorrows is that you can start over. You can hit the reset button. So that’s what I’m going to do. Because I can. In the end, Walter White couldn't do that.