One Week In

One week ago today I awoke to the knowledge that I have been killing myself. Through the slow, continuous process of eating foods that I am addicted to as surley as an alcoholic is to liquor and a drug addict is to the drug of choice, I am dying. Like many people I have fought this battle for as many years as I can recall. I have DIEted using every means available and last May even had lap band surgery. Of course as a wise friend once said "the doctor operated on my stomach, not on my head". And so after the first exciting weeks post surgery when I began to realize there were foods I could not eat, it bacame a challenge to beat this foreign object that was keeping me from my friends (the foods I wanted and craved). I wanted to lose more weight than I was, even though I was far from following the "rules of the road" for this surgery to be successful. By January when I was down only 39 pounds and throwing up most days because I couldn't get the foods I wanted to eat to go through the band, I literally had a crying fit in the doctor's office. I was going on a cruise at the end of the month and wanted to enjoy all the food I knew would be available to me. "I should have just had gastric bypass" I told my doctor's associate. As if I would have followed those post op rules. After enough talk and blubbering, the doctor decided to completely back off the band which means he basically deflated it so my body would behave as if it had never been there. Yippee, what would I eat first. A stern warning to make an appt. for the following month to start the process anew and to not "go crazy" and I was on my way to the first restaurant and the biggest glass of soda I could find. I loved the cruise and the foods my husband and sister and brother-in-law shared in New Orleans before the cruise. I loved the foods I could eat when we returned home. I skipped the appt. in Feb. and in March. And now it was April 8th and I was 30 pounds up from when I last saw the doctor. I could not breathe, my clothes felt like I had been poured into them, my feet and knees hurt, I was miserable. But somehow, I felt empowered. I knew that I had to take responsibility for MY situation. I thought of all the excuses I have used in the past. I thought of all the times I made it someone else's fault for enabling me to eat the things that made me as fat as I ever want to be again. I knew it was REALLY time. When describing this to my youngest sister she said "but you've been here before". All I can say is I have NOT ever been where I was last Thursday morning. I knew then and I know now that I can fall any moment, any day. I know I have to make better choices and I know that this is not an easy journey. I am down 16.5 pounds since last Thursday. I made a list of foods that day that are POISON for me, a list of foods that are "maybe" ok for me and a list of foods that are fine for me. I decided to just count calories. It has worked for hundreds of years for millions of people and it is as complicated as I want it to be. I decided to stay within 1200-1400 calories, to keep a journal, to weigh every day, to tell people how I feel and what I am doing. I am Finally, Fully, Fed Up and I want to live a little longer, if for no other reason than to see if I can gain control of this addiction that is my darkest demon. Did I already say I'm down 16.5 pounds? Did I say it feels great? Did I say I'm cautiously optimistic? All of that is true. At least for today. I hope I'll be here to see what tomorrow brings.