The Right Sermon at the Right Time

This past Sunday, I went to church and heard a sermon that I needed to hear. Hope Church’s Senior Associate Pastor, Dr. Eli Morris, delivered the message entitled “My Favorite Track Meet.” You see, the sermon series is on “Faves” and Eli is a self-proclaimed track and field nut, so it was only fitting that he spent Sunday morning talking about this often-overlooked sport.

And whether you are religious or not, Christian or not, or a sports fan or not, the theme of the entire sermon is applicable to your life, I promise. Of course, Eli meant for the “track meet” to parallel your path with God and the journey of Christianity, but it spoke to me about my weight loss journey and transformation process. I took copious notes on the outline and even saved the outline to look back at later. I don't do that with sermon notes very often. 

I’ve been struggling a bit lately (again—no one said this was going to be easy) and I’ve been searching for the answers to a few challenges I’ve been having. I’m fighting for every pound lost right now, and sometimes, I feel the fight in me waning a bit. This sermon hit me square on the head and was exactly what I needed.

Here are a few key points he made and the ones that hit home for me. I think they are applicable to everyone and I hope they help you handle an issue you may be facing:  

• We step off the track because we get distracted by other things. Boy, do we! I have been distracted recently by lots of other things: stress at work, kids and their busy schedules, trying to figure out how to get everything done and the list goes on and on. It is endless. But it is always going to be that way. I just have to assess the situation, adjust and figure out how to get back on track.

• The cost of staying on track seems too great: Again, hit me like a hammer on my head. I sometimes get tired of meal prepping for just me. I prep for breakfast and lunch, and usually dinner. It takes time and it is a hassle. But it is something I have to do. So I just need to suck it up, take a few minutes and prep my meals. It is as simple as that.  

•  We get off the track because we settle: we settle for less because we say things like “well, it’s better than what it used to be.” I’ve been thinking this for a while when trying to determine what my final goal weight will be. I’m happy where I am not, but I want to lose a little more to get to my final goal weight. But I have to be honest, sometimes I’m just ready to be done. And I think “well, this weight is fine. It is better than what it used to be.” NO! I’m not going to settle just yet. It isn’t fine. I am better than fine.

• So why should we get back on track and push on? During this section, Eli talked a lot about character, stewardship and your legacy by doing the right thing. But honestly, the thing that stuck out to me most was that nothing compares to the right thing. NOTHING! Think about that for a second. It’s easy to do the wrong thing (and the “wrong thing” can be whatever applies to you—for me lately, it has been not taking the time to prep my meals or have the right foods in the house. I have just been lazy and get tired of doing it over and over again.) But it is the “right” thing for me to do and I just need to go it and get back on track.

His final thoughts were perhaps the most powerful for me. He addressed how to stay the course, when faced with adversity. This scripture just may be my new favorite. 

“Let us strip off anything that slows us down or holds us back, and especially those sins that wrap themselves so tightly around our feet and trip us up; and let us run with patience on the particular race that God has set before us.” Hebrews 12:1-2

Eli encouraged us to “discard the baggage” (strip off anything that slows us down) in order to stay on the course. In previous blogs, I’ve discussed some of the baggage I’ve discarded over the last year or so: the negative relationships I’ve had in my life (including that very negative relationship I had with food,) bad habits that I have formed for 40 years, the laziness that led to lack of exercise, just to name a few. But that verse tells us to strip off anything that slows us down or holds us back. ANYTHING! Bad habits, actions you shouldn’t be doing, negative people- anything.  

He also talks about taking little steps to stay the course. He referred to some days as “Quick Sand Days,” meaning the only way to survive those days, as you do with quick sand, is to take little steps to get out of it. It is a perfect way to describe some days. Now I have a perfect description for days when I feel like I’m drowning- quicksand days! And now I know that the only way to get out of them is to take little steps.

Lastly, Eli talked about Envisioning the Finish. And lately, I’ve had trouble envisioning the finish and seeing the finish line. As I mentioned previously, I’m now fighting for every pound lost and that is a challenge in and of itself. But it is the little things I have noticed recently that have helped me envision the finish:

•         I went to a water park (twice! and climbed stairs to the top of the tallest water slides and didn’t die (or even get out of breath!)
•         I’m walking a lot (by myself and with a few girlfriends from time to time) and walking pretty fast. And I didn’t die! In fact, when I don't walk, I don't feel as good. 
•          I have some clothes that aren’t that old that are too big. (uh, that's NEVER happened until this journey.) 
•         I’m finally below my pre-pregnancy weight (from nearly 13 years ago!)

That last one about being below my pre-pregnancy weight is HUGE for me. Seriously, my baby will be 12 this week and I’m finally below that weight. I haven’t been below that weight in nearly 13 years!!!!!! That’s what I call a success, even if I haven't reach my goal as quickly as I wanted to. I'm still taking little steps toward achieving it. 

If you want to listen to Eli's sermon in it's entirety, I high recommend it. It can be found here: https://www.hopepres.com/media#!/swx/pp/media_archives/206115/episode/69074. 

One final thought on envisioning the finish: Here is my August photo and progress report.

August 6, 2017
Down 93 pounds! 

To date, I’ve lost 93 pounds. I’m coming up on my one-year anniversary of surgery August 23, and I’m both excited and a bit sad. Excited because I know how far I’ve come, but a bit sad because I really wanted to reach 100 pounds by my birthday. When I didn’t, I began to really get down about it and to be honest, I felt a little bit like a failure. But after a bit of wallowing in my own self-pity, I picked myself up and began again. I’ve set a new goal of losing a total of 115 pounds total, so I have 22 more pounds to go. Since I’m fighting for every pound now, my goal is to get that final 22 pounds off by Christmas of this year. It’s going to take a lot of work and perseverance, but I can do it… one little step and quicksand day at a time. 

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.  

January 1st Update (Two weeks late): #redcarpetready

Forgive me, friends, for not posting my update on the first of the month as planned. It's been a little crazy this month with the holidays, and I got a nasty cold that had me down for a few days. And what a nasty cold it was! Honestly, I can't remember the last time a cold had me in the bed, but this one kicked my butt! 

Just like everyone, we had a very busy holiday season and really enjoyed some great family time together. I woke up New Year's Eve with a cold and it took me more than a week to get over it. But I'm better now and back on my workout schedule, so I wanted to do my update picture and monthly progress. (It helps keep me on track.) 

January 10, 2017
140 days post surgery 

Here I am 140 days post surgery (roughly four months.) As of January 10, I have lost a total of 72.3 pounds (57.3 pounds since surgery day.) That is more pounds than Zane weighs!! I have so much more energy and I have such a different outlook on life, to be quite honest. I mean, I'm the same person -- bossy, still require a lot of sleep, still fall asleep if I sit still long enough, blah blah blah -- but I feel much better. I can hang with my kiddos a bit more and I'm getting much more used to the portion sizes and how much I can eat without feeling awful. I don't get it right every time, but man when I get it right, I feel so much better. I know it is just re-training myself how to eat, and I'm getting there. 

But get this, y'all!!! I shopped from the regular women's section!!!! (Oh yes, cue the applause and music.) I have a few pieces of clothing that I can wear, but it was getting about time to replace a main staple in my "uniform" -- black pants. So yesterday I ventured out to Marshall's before a busy day of basketball games and I bought two pair of black pants. From the regular women's section. SHUT. UP. Not the plus size section. THE REGULAR WOMEN'S SECTION. I haven't done that in years. In fact, the workout clothing I have been buying the last couple of months has been from the regular women's section. (Seems my new lifestyle has me buying more workout and "athleisure" wear than work clothing- at least right now.)  As my friend Toni would say, it was a red-letter day on the calendar! It's the little things that I get excited about. (They seem little, but they aren't to me.) Such as, not having as much trouble crossing my legs. Or -- this one makes me laugh out loud -- finally being able to do the Reese Witherspoon red carpet pose (you know the one, one foot tightly crossed over the other.) 

Don't get me wrong, NO ONE is going to mistake me for Reese Witherspoon any time soon -- or EVER -- but I've always noticed that red carpet pose and just couldn't do it. Well, now I can. So look at me. (Yes, I know I am oddly proud of this.) And let me be clear, I won't be going to any red carpets any time soon, or ever, but if there is one at the basketball gym or baseball field, I will definitely be ready with my Reese pose. 

Please Allow Me Time for a Pity Party

I promised you sarcastic rays of sunshine, the good, the bad and the ugly about this surgery and the journey. And so far, it’s been mostly good. But, since I promised you the truth (with a little sass), here it is. I’m struggling right now. And I have been over the last few days. It’s been tough. It’s hard to articulate and put into words exactly why it has sucked over the last few days, but it has. I will try to explain. It’s time for me to have a pity party.

First, there is the planning. I’ve moved on to phase three of my post-op diet, and frankly, it’s been the most challenging. I would have honestly thought that only drinking broth in shot glasses and 5 ounces of protein shakes at a time would have been worse, but that was much easier. I could just grab my juice/water/Crystal Light/protein shake and go. And for a busy working mama, that was easy. (Well, It was also easy because I was off work and had time to prepare the foods and drinks.) Now, I have to take my little cooler wherever I go, with my yogurt/soft lunch meat/tuna/soft pasta/egg beaters, because Lord knows you can’t really go up to the concession stand at the baseball or football field and order any of that.

Second, it is the eating itself. I’m just figuring it all out. I have to eat slowly, and that is a challenge for me. If I eat too fast, it hurts. When it hurts, it doesn’t taste good. And the drinking, drinking is a pain in the ass. (And I’m not even talking about that I can’t have alcohol.) I’m talking about drinking water—wait, sipping. That’s what I have to do now. Doesn’t matter how hot and thirsty you are, you have to sip. Because if you don’t, you guessed it, it hurts. Guess I couldn’t even physically chug a beer even if I was able.

Lastly, eating is just plain tedious now. It isn’t enjoyable in the least, but something I have to do so I won’t get lightheaded and pass out. I know that the food I so much enjoyed eating made me completely miserable after I ate it, but it was good while I was eating it. There was a social aspect to it; I derived some satisfaction from it. Now, it is work. I have to concentrate on chewing each bite-- 10 times!. I have to set aside 30 minutes to eat a meal—who has 30 minutes to eat a meal?!?!?!?!?! I really would have thought I would be more satisfied eating actual food, but I’m not. Frankly, it is just tedious.

I hope I don’t sound ungrateful. I’m really not. And I’m not regretting having the surgery, but right now, I’m just venting and I needed to have a pity party for myself. And I also need to not hurt when I accidentally drink too much water.

Comfortable in My Own (Saggy) Skin

It’s been four weeks today since I had this life-changing surgery, so I wanted to do a quick update.

Total pounds lost:  29 since surgery August 23 (Holy crap) and 44 total since Mid-July.

Hunger Level: None (so weird) I do have to eat, though, because I will realize I am a bit light-headed and need something to eat. Don't need to pass out.

Food activity: I’m currently at the end of phase 2, which consists of protein shakes, pureed soups and pureed foods. On Thursday, I get to move to soft foods, non-pureed soups, and other yummy treats. That should make eating out with my family (which I haven’t done since surgery) a little easier.

Energy Level: getting better, but still not at 100%. I tend to feel pretty good in the am, but start dragging around 3 p.m. (so not much brilliance coming out of my brain at work around that time… or ever for that matter.)

Satisfaction level with surgery: VERY satisfied. It has really been a relatively smooth transition for me, considering the big changes that have been made. I do admit it is a daily struggle, mostly just due to the amount of preparation and planning while I am in this stage of the diet. Also, I have to schedule my exercise with work and the kids’ activities. But I’m getting it done. Nearly a month out, I am VERY glad I did this surgery.

Wardrobe plan: obviously, I am having some wardrobe challenges right now with the rapid weight loss – and I’m certainly not complaining! But good news! I held on to several sizes of black pants, tops and a few dresses, so I will have able to get back in to some of those and will soon. I’m trying not to buy too many pieces right now and make do with what I have in my closet. (Luckily, I have several sizes in my closet!) It’s a process that’s for sure. So if you see me in the same thing I wore last week, don’t judge.

Quirks: I’m learning how to eat again. I know that sounds weird, but what I mean is, I’m retraining my brain on eating too fast. I’ve always been a fast eater, and that just can’t happen anymore. When I do eat fast, I can tell. It feels like I may throw it up, but that’s not healthy. So I just have to retrain myself to slow down. It’s a weir sensation to look at your food container and see you’ve only eaten 4 small spoons full of pureed green beans and feel like you are about to lose it. But it is my new normal.

Being around others while they eat: for the most part, being around others during this time hasn’t bothered me too much. But yes, it has bothered me a bit. Not so much at home when I’m with my family, but being at a social event or gathering. I have only been to a restaurant one time and that was with Tom this past Saturday night. We went to Panera so I could enjoy some soup. Maybe not the best Saturday dinner for him, but at least we sat at a table and ate together. The weird thing is knowing what to do while you aren’t eating and everyone else is. Tom said it should be pretty obvious to do what I do best—TALK. (isn’t he funny?) I’m trying that and it is a little awkward, but I’m getting there.

Deep Thoughts: I’ve also been thinking a lot lately about how I got to this phase in my life where I let my weight and eating habits get away from me. Truly, I’ve always been pretty comfortable in my own skin and of course “have carried my weight well,” but I’ve been trying to pinpoint a few instances where it really bothered me and I said ENOUGH!  Two of my “fat memories” occurred in the first 18 years of my life and have stuck with me until this day.
We all have those memories that stick out in our head and here are two times that I wasn’t comfortable in my own skin.

I was in the 8^th grade and it was right after the junior high prom. I had gotten word that my date – who was just a friend of mine – told a few folks that my face was fat. He just mentioned my face being fat, not anything else. It bothered me for a bit, and I got my feelings hurt, but I seemed to have moved on from it. (Ok, if I’m blogging about it maybe I didn’t really move on from it.)

I’ve written about the high school football game anxiety in the past, and frankly, it began with a “fat” experience.  I’ve mentioned I was a cheerleader and had never really attended a high school game where I wasn’t on the sidelines or had another “task” to accomplish. I was a freshman in college and – as all freshmen do – decided to attend a high school football game at my alma mater. So I did, with several other high school friends. We were sitting up in the bleachers talking to a few other folks that were still in high school and the score had been pretty tight. Late in the game, the visiting team scored, putting them on top.  Someone said, “well, it’ ain’t over ‘til the fat lady sings.” To which someone replied, “sing, Dawn. SING!” I was mortified. I was embarrassed. I was furious. It was the last football game I went to until Tripp had to attend the varsity game at Briarcrest for elementary night four years ago. That awful body-shaming comment stuck with me and I finally realized after many years the reason it did is because I was depressed. The first two years of college were depressing for me, and honestly, I should have been seeing a therapist. I didn’t have a boyfriend (with no dates or prospects for dates), didn’t have that many friends in college and was depressed. (Again, a post for another time.)

Like most women, I hate how I look in pictures. I can find a flaw in nearly every photo and frankly, can be pretty hard on myself. I don’t think I am alone in this practice. But this picture of us on our 16^th wedding anniversary in May was the final straw for me.

Our 16th Wedding Anniversary. Tom looks nearly identical to the day we got married. Me, not so much!

 

Sure, we aren’t dressed up and are heading to a baseball game. Sure, I don’t have any makeup on. Sure, we are sitting on the tailgate of a pick up truck. But honestly, I was taken aback. I tried to make excuses: It must be the shirt. It must be the lighting. It must be how I was sitting. It must be that I’m not wearing makeup. No, it was me. I finally realized this was what others saw when they saw me. It was the most uncomfortable in my skin I had ever been. Surgery was something I had to do. I had my doubts before, but I finally realized that it was the only way I could be healthier. I had to do it.

 
Now, four weeks post-surgery, I am healthier and I’m certainly more comfortable in my own skin. It’s a long journey and I have a long way to go, but I’m in it for the long haul. I’m doing better physically, but also mentally. Guess I will just have to get even more comfortable in my own (saggy) skin.

Kids, Please Try and Stay Away from the Baby Food... I know it is Tempting

Today I went to see my doctor for my two-week (16 day) post-op checkup. I was ready for the verdict. I've been doing exactly what I was supposed to do -- walking every day, only drinking ( non-alcoholic, much to my chagrin) liquids and drinking my water. Today was my official first post-op weigh-in. Drum roll please......

I have lost 19.5 pounds (according to his scale) since the surgery August 23!! (and yes, I know I posted a 20 pound weight loss earlier this week, but I am going by his official scale-- even though I don't really want to.) Since mid-July, I am down 34.5 pounds! WOOT WOOT!!! 

He said I was doing very well and he was as close to pleasant as I've ever seen him. (That's definitely a post for another time...his bedside manner may be lacking a bit.) Just ask any of his patients or the nurses who treat his patients. But he's the best bariatric surgeon around, and has a zero infection rate.

Best news of all, I got to move on to phase II of the post-op diet. The delightful, delectable and delicious pureed food stage. (Cue the angels singing.) This includes runny oatmeal, yogurt, cottage cheese, egg beaters, pureed soups, pureed fruits and pureed vegetables. Oh, and mashed potatoes for a starch. Only in small quantities-- I'm talking about 1/4 cup to 1/2 cup.

I wanted to be prepared to eat such yummy goodness, so I went to the grocery store as soon as I left the doctor. I got all kinds of fantastic foods--cottage cheese, soups to puree, green beans and baby food. Wait, what? Yes, I bought baby food. When my kiddos were babies, I always tasted everything I fed them. I didn't want to give them gross baby food (which some it definitely is-- I'm talking to you, pureed chicken and rice-- yuck.) Anyway, I remembered the fruits and sweet potatoes weren't bad, so I got some peaches, bananas and sweet potatoes. I thought that might be easier than just pureeing everything, especially when I go back to work next week. (Plus, you guys know me, if I can purchase it instead of making it, I will.)

I came home and cooked some green beans and pureed those. Look at me, I'm a regular Rachael Ray/Martha Stewart/Pioneer Woman. Except those women are thin. And richer.

Oh, and I also ate the best damn yogurt ever. Seriously. Here it is...

It was like heaven in a 4 ounce cup. I sprinkled a little vanilla protein powder in there and voila! I have never been so damn excited to have yogurt. And I've also never been so damn full. WOW! WTF? 4 ounces filled me up so much. It's a Christmas miracle!!!!

I also ate dinner with my family at the table - a first in about 2 1/2 weeks. I cooked them a delicious dinner of pork chops, cinnamon apples, mashed potatoes, gravy and biscuits (those were from a can - my specialty!) It might have been better than fried chicken, which  is my favorite. Okay, that's total bullshit, but still, it was heavenly to feel like a normal person sitting down with my family for dinner. 

I walked 3.5 miles this morning with a friend and it was awesome to catch up and enjoy one of our city's many green lines. All in all, today was a good day. I had delicious food (it's all relative), I watched a little Netflix, I walked and visited with a friend, I cooked dinner and ate it at the table with my family. Tomorrow, I just may dig into that baby food. 

No Communion for YOU! (insert Seinfeld reference here): a First Week Update

It’s been one week since my gastric sleeve surgery and I’ve had many observations over the last 7 days.  Behold, I bring you random thoughts by Dawn Ray of Sunshine.

The hospital bed is amazing after you sit up for 9 straight hours directly after surgery (got in the room at 9:30 a.m. and sat up until 6:30 p.m.) I also walked the floor five times or so. That hospital bed was as comfortable and luxurious as a Waldorf Astoria bed (channeling my former industry) – it was comfy and it could be moved up and down to my liking. If only the TV had the premium channel package. (Probably a good thing because I wouldn’t have remembered much of it anyway.)

Pain meds are delightful, get them. I know some people just can’t take pain meds, but as someone who seems to have surgery a lot, I highly recommend them if you can. I wasn’t very lucid during my stay at Methodist Germantown Hospital (it’s such a wonderful and caring place with attentive nurses and other patient care staff!) and I can thank the drugs for that. Apparently the drug of choice this round was Dilaudid – and it could definitely tell when it went through my iv. WOW. I forgot all about the incisions in my stomach, but was still lucid enough to carry on a conversation and make some sense, though now I can’t remember much about what I said, so apologies to anyone I texted while in the hospital.  

It’s weird to think that my stomach can only hold 5 ounces or so. I mean, seriously, that’s strange. I am getting used to the idea and I’m also getting used to the feelings in my stomach. Sometimes I can’t tell if it is empty or I just drank too big of a sip of water. Or I just need to burp.

I haven’t been hungry. Not once. That is the oddest thing of all. I am ALWAYS hungry. I’m not even really thirsty, but I know I have to drink in order to stay hydrated. And I'm ALWAYS thirsty, as my friend Pam reminded me yesterday, "that's weird because you always have a drink in your hand...." (did she mean an alcoholic drink or just a drink or both? I'll never tell!) When the surgery is performed, they remove 70% of your stomach. There is a hunger hormone called Ghrelin that gives us “hunger pangs.” That hormone is in high concentration in the part of the stomach they removed, hence the reason I’m not really hungry. (Yep, I’ve been reading up on the interwebs, so I’m totally qualified to talk about it!) Once I thought I was hungry, but I just had to burp. True story.

I miss chewing. I think just to have something to do with my mouth – other than talk. I’ve always heard smokers have to do something after they give up cigarettes so sometimes they eat candy or chew gum or eat more. So, I will need to figure that piece out. It doesn’t really hit me that much, it is just out of habit.  

I can’t even have a tiny bit of food, not even a crumb. And I don't even want it. I couldn't even take Holy Communion at church on Sunday! Yep, that’s right. I couldn’t even take the body of Christ and dip it into the blood of Christ. But somehow, I think God is okay with it. J I'll hit you up next time, Hope Church!

I don’t know how you stay-at-home moms do it! Mad props to you!! I’ve been  super busy at home. And as much as I might want to, I can’t just sleep my medical leave away. My doctor’s orders are to get up and move as much as I can and don’t sleep the day away. I have managed to sneak in some Netflix and a nap here and there. I’ve been driving this week, too, shuttling kids to school and practice. It’s a lot of on-the-go.

I feel better each day and I’m not as sore. I haven’t weighed myself yet, but I can definitely tell a difference each day when I get dressed. (CRAZY to think that I’m losing weight by the day.)

I know I still have a very long road ahead of me, but I’m doing well. So far, I’m very glad I did this!!!

Cute Running Shorts that Don't Fit, Turning 40 and Other #BS

Why I've decided to have weight-loss surgery

I just want to wear those stupid Nike/Under Armor/whatever brand running shorts in a regular size. You know the ones... they aren't too short and come in cute colors. You can't walk through Academy or Dicks or Target without tripping over them. They are a sports mom staple, the summertime equivalent of yoga pants. And dammit, I want to wear them.

It seems like a small thing, really. But my butt doesn't fit in them-- even the largest women's size they have at the store doesn't fit . And dammit, I want to wear them.  

I've been on a journey since the beginning of the year to focus on ME. And of course, in the requisite soul-searching you have to do when you turn 40 (OMG, how am I 40?!??!) my physical appearance has risen to the top as one of those focuses.  

I've spent a lot of time trying to get my $h!t together and figure out my weight issues (beyond just eating and drinking way too much.) I've tried to seek out patterns as to my eating habits, analyze my favorite foods and drinks, actually pay attention to my alcohol intake, but even more so, I've tried to determine why I eat what I eat.

I've gotten to a weight the last few years of which I am not proud at all. (Maybe one day I will have the courage to write that number down, but today is not that day.) My weight and the focus on myself go hand-in-hand and if I don't do something about it, I frankly won't have much of a future. I've thought long and hard about how to tackle this issue and I've come to a life-altering decision: I've decided to have weight loss surgery.

I freaked out early on and decided this decision wasn't for me. "It was too life-altering," I said. "I can't go without Diet Coke for the rest of my life," I said. "No alcohol for an entire year? NO WAY!" "I'll never be able to sit down and have a beer and a burger again," I said.  (Seriously, I considered those good reasons over my health?) Of course those were all excuses, and frankly, excuses have plagued me my entire life when it comes to my health and weight. But after some long conversations with Tom, and a few close friends, some serious soul searching, prayers and a few tears,  I have decided to go through with it. My surgery is scheduled Tuesday, Aug. 23. 

Coming to this decision has not been easy. I've had to endure countless medical appointments, visits with my physicians (which always have the embarrassing trip to the scale), a session with a therapist who specializes in food addiction and other eating disorders, a real conversation with a nutritionist, and lots of heart-to-hearts with my husband. Each time, I've been asked why I wanted to have weight loss surgery and I've finally come to the conclusion that  it's not a WANT for me, but a NEED. I can't possibly think of anyone who would WANT to have 70% of his/her stomach permanently removed! 

I even had to write a personal essay to my insurance company about why I felt this surgery was the best choice for me. And  while I have a lot of reasons, I came to the conclusion the WHOs in my life are my WHYs.

We've all heard the phrase, "you can’t judge a book by its cover." In my forty years on this Earth, one of the things I’ve learned for sure is that although your parents may teach you not to, many people do indeed judge a book by its cover. For an overweight person, no truer words have ever been spoken. Sure, some folks can see past the extra pounds and those who truly love you love what’s on the inside. But first impressions are everything, and we so often see the “outside” of a person first.

I’ve struggled with my weight most of my life, but it never really mattered much to me until the last few years. I had always accepted that I was “heavy set” and “big boned.” (Truthfully, I think I've hidden behind being the funny fat girl for most of my life, but that's a blog post for another time.)

But eleven years ago, my life changed forever when our first son, Tripp, was born.  Wow! What a life changer for both me and my husband. Being a parent is the hardest -- and most rewarding -- job I’ve ever had. It’s also the most exhausting. I was able to get most of the baby weight off when Tripp was born, but truthfully, I was still about 30 – 40 pounds overweight.

In 2010, we were blessed with another son, Zane. At first, the pregnancy weight was coming off and then it stalled. That’s when I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism. And though I take synthroid, I’ve struggled to lose and keep weight off ever since.

Today, Tripp is 11 and Zane is 6. They are very active in sports: baseball, soccer, football and basketball. We are teaching them the importance of an active lifestyle full of sports and outdoor activity, but truthfully, I am exhausted. I can’t keep up. I know my weight is the main culprit of this.

They are at the ages now where they are aware of my weight struggles and frankly, that I don’t look like most of the other moms (skinny ones.) Of course, they love me anyway, but one day, I'm afraid they are going to take notice and be embarrassed of me. That is heartbreaking to me. I want to be there for them. I want to live a long and healthy life- to see them fulfill their dreams and to see my grandchildren. Tripp and Zane are my why.  

I have a wonderful support system in my husband, Tom. He is patient and kind with a loving heart and he loves me at any weight. In our 16 years of marriage, he’s watched me lose and regain weight multiple times. He knows the struggle I face. And he's ready to support me in this decision.

While the most important people in my life are part of my why for wanting this weight loss surgery, I am truly my biggest why. I spend a lot of time doing things for others. And I love that. But I turned 40 this year, and as I look back on those years, I’ve only been happy with the way I’ve looked just a few times in my life.

I am also very career-driven and ambitious. At times, I've felt my size has kept me from achieving some of my career goals. I am a communications director and have made communications my life’s passion, as well as my career. I spend the majority of my time at work creating communications strategies and tactics for well-known brands and encouraging others to communicate effectively. I believe that communications is everything and everything communicates. My weight certainly communicates something about me, and frankly, impacts the first impression I have on others. I can present the most creative communications strategies, but if people can’t see past my extra pounds, I likely have a hard time convincing them of my expertise.

It is an ugly truth. People do judge a book by its cover, and my cover happens to carry plenty of extra pounds. And while I have always “carried my weight well,” I want to break the cycle in my life of losing and regaining weight. I want to keep up with my sons and set a good example for them. I want to be confident in taking photos with my family so Tripp and Zane can look back at their childhood memories and say, “wow my mom was beautiful inside and out.” I want to feel better, and yes, of course, look better. For Tripp and Zane. For Tom. But mainly, for ME.

I am my why. Period. It's my body and my health and I have to be comfortable. And right now, I'm not. But I'm freakin' scared. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. I'm terrified of what's ahead, but I've talked to some wonderful people who have gone through this and have been willing to share their story with me. 

I'm planning on blogging about my journey, in true dawn ray of sunshine fashion (ahem, #nobullshit.) I'll give you the good, the bad and the ugly. 

And yes, I'm going to wear those stupid running shorts! So stay tuned, friends. It's gonna be a hell of a ride.