Wherever you go, there you are

(Lying on an operating table at St. Francis Hospital waiting for the anesthesia to knock me out for my lap-band surgery)

"I look....I look like Jesus right now with my arms out like this (flaps hands). But if this doesn't end well, I don't think I get to resurrect from the deaaaaa-"

Just recently, I read this article about a woman's journey with weight-loss surgery: http://shine.yahoo.com/healthy-living/losing-180-pounds-really-does-body-8212-160-163900419.html It was very well-written and it got me all sentimental-like about my own weight-loss surgery experience seven years ago. I wanted to share it with you all for a couple of reasons:

1. My lap band is still in there (and will be until I re-acquire health insurance) and continues to make an impact in my life

2. My experience with attempting to lose weight via surgery vs. my current weight loss "journey" (cringe) are two dramatically different experiences

3. If you're a Big Girl or Big Guy who is considering weight-loss surgery and you're reading this blog, it's important to see both sides of the coin from another person's perspective


So here's my account, for better and for worse...and then for good:

In 2006 I was a junior in college, I weighed about 250ish lbs, and I was sitting in a therapy session with an on-campus counselor (FYI: I'm really wishing all my weight loss journeys didn't start with a meltdown). The counselor herself wasn't so great; she kept looking at the clock above my head every three minutes (which isn't the best non-verbal gesture you want to receive from a counselor...during a therapy session). And even though the conversation started out with me addressing my communication issues with my roommate, it somehow morphed into a discussion about weight-loss surgery. I suppose when you're a 250 lb, 20 year-old college girl who's an emotional wreck, it all circles back to the elephant in the room (yeah, pun intended): weight issues. And for whatever reason, the moment this counselor said the words "weight loss surgery" it was like the clouds began to part. Even though I was a totally mixed bag of issues and sadness, I just knew that weight loss surgery was going to save me from living a miserable existence (because fat is synonymous with sad and ugly right?). One minute I'm bawling my eyes out on a paisley couch and the next I'm making a dozen phone calls to schedule doctors appointments. As any of my friends will tell you, I have a very laid back, sloppy, Type B attitude about every aspect of my life (except cooking); however, when I decided to get weight-loss surgery, I was single-minded in my determination to make it happen as quickly and efficiently as was humanly possible.

That counseling session was in November. By May, I filled out a thousand pieces of paperwork for my insurance company and received pre-surgical medical clearances from my primary care physician, a psychologist, a cardiologist, a nutritionist and the actual surgeon. This was in addition to having blood work done, receiving chest x-rays, and getting an upper GI swallow (basically a camera that is snaked down your throat and used to check out the condition of your stomach lining. I'm shocked they didn't see any castaway potatoes bobbing around down there). There's a couple of things that stood out to me during all those appointments. The first is that I kept hearing what "an ideal candidate" I was for weight-loss surgery. I know they meant physically-speaking (although it was nice to have a psych evaluation confirm my mentally sound...ness, too): I was young (21), I didn't have any health risk factors other than...you know..morbid obesity, and I was unlikely to die during the surgery itself. You know what else stood out to me in those appointments? I was not an uninformed idiot. I researched the crap out of weight-loss surgery (which led me to choose the less-invasive lap-band route) and when I met with all of those doctors to get my medical clearances, I gave them (and my parents) the impression that I knew the full weight (no pun intended that time) of the decision I was about to make. So in late May of 2006, I had a silicone band lassoed around the upper portion of my stomach which restricted my food intake to about 1/2 cup (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lap_band_surgery). For the first four weeks after the surgery, I was on a liquids-only diet (a lot of smoothies and protein shakes) followed by four weeks of soft, mushy foods. After that, I was on my own and it was all trial and error, but mostly a lot of error.

 Here's the crazy thing about my post-surgery life: I remember, in the beginning, seeing the numbers go down on the scale (which will happen when you eat liquid and mush for two months) and thinking, "This is it! It's really happening for me now!" But I have zero recollection of actually feeling physically different, like in my body. I definitely remember how I felt (and still occasionally feel) the first time I ate scrambled eggs and how they got stuck as they attempted to travel through the lassoed up portion of my stomach (eggs, rice, and untoasted bread are very hard on the lap-band if they are not chewed into nothingness). It literally felt (feels) like my stomach was choking and I had no choice but to...er...remove the obstruction via regurgitation. This happened (and still happens) a lot, to the point where my friend Jenn would look at me and say, "Angie, you've got the Death Face again, babe. Something get caught?" These are the moments that I remember about my post-surgery body. I don't remember sizing out of clothes, I have no recollection of seeing my collar bone protruding beneath my neck; I remember learning how to discreetly leave a table and go throw up. There were no physical signs of a future, healthier body (as there are now in this process) because I wasn't different. Correction: I now had a silicone lasso around my stomach. Other than the lasso (whose side-effect of spontaneous regurgitation was not a great party trick) I was still the same, sedentary Angela with bad eating habits and over time, I gained back every pound.

Please don't think for a second that I am suggesting that lap-band surgery, or any weight loss surgery for that matter, does not work. It does work and there are thousands of success stories out there about people who had the surgery and completely reversed their obesity and its myriad associated health risks. Let me be very clear that my weight loss surgery story was not a success story because of me and my unwillingness to change. Finance guru Dave Ramsey says that spending money wisely is "20% head knowledge and 80% behavior modification". You could apply this same logic to living a healthy life. The reason my lap-band surgery "failed" was not because I didn't know that I was supposed to use the band as a tool and not a cure to change my life. As I said before, I spent months researching the crap out of this stuff. I saw a lot of doctors that warned me what would happen if I didn't do the work. The problem is that knowing how to change and actually changing are two very different situations. If you met ten overweight people on the street, my guess is that nine of them could give you detailed summaries of at least a dozen different diet regimens. I, myself, still have a vague recollection of how many "points" are allotted to most foods. Anyone can read a diet book or a nutrition label (and by all means please do, and with discernment); implementing that information into a healthy sustainable lifestyle is a whole different kettle of fish. I had lap-band surgery and then proceeded to live as though I never did, all while erroneously assuming that weight loss would just happen to me (let me just state right here and now: successful, healthy weight loss never just happens. It takes a lot of work).

When I found myself staring back at the face of 253 lbs again, only a few years after having had the surgery, all I saw was shame and failure. I was so sure that this was my last and only chance to attain a skinny body, and therefore happiness. Unlike Jen (from the article posted above) I didn't lose the 100+ lbs really quickly and go through the physical and psychological process of coming to terms with who I was as a skinny girl. I...just...failed, like, right out of the gate. And not only did I fail, but I had random, weekly bouts of regurgitation reminders to boot! When I came to the realization that I just blew my last chance to ever be healthy, I decided to stop caring and I began to eat...a lot. You can only imagine how happy I am, and how grateful I am to God, that the story didn't end there; how blessed I feel to have been given another chance at living a healthy life. Because even though I would never wish those feelings of failure and humiliation upon my worst enemy, I am thankful for the experience. I am thankful for all the diets I've tried, for my brief flirtations with gym membership (donations), for the stomach lasso that continues to make breakfast time oh so adventurous, and for all the successes and failures I've had with every one of them. They have all, in part, brought me to where I am right here and right now.

So if you're a Big Girl or Guy considering weight loss surgery and you want my two cents, here goes. First, do not underestimate the things you and your body are capable of, even if you have to lose a lot of weight; I cannot say this enough. I know how scary it is to think about losing a three-digit number, but it will not just go away on its own, not even if you have your stomach lassoed or stitched up. Weight loss will not just happen to you, no matter how many dreams you have of waking up one morning and being thin. You have to do the work, you have to make the changes, regardless of whether you choose surgery or if you choose the ol' fashioned way. You will probably start making a mental checklist of a hundred different "Can't" reasons for not choosing the ol' fashioned way. Let me just say, Big Person to Big Person, most, if not all, of those reasons are actually "Won'ts" and not "Can'ts" . Two years ago I would have said I "can't" Run, Spin, Kickbox, Yoga, HIIT, Step, Pump, or even Zumba. At the end of the day, I started doing every single one of those things when I weighed over 200 lbs. Do not underestimate the things you and your body are capable of. It's really hard but I promise that all the little victories that come along the way are worth every drop of sweat.

  Another thing I've learned about losing weight by eating well and exercising regularly is that while it is ridiculously difficult and it takes forever, you will adapt and become a stronger person. I don't mean just physically stronger, either. You see, unlike Jen Larsen, I'm not really struggling with a loss of identity. Do I still have a skewed perception of my body that's different from what my family and friends see? Absolutely. Do I still wonder who the heck people are talking to when they refer to me as 'Skinny"? All the time. But one of the upsides to the ungodly slow pace of this process is that I am gradually becoming reacquainted with this body and the person who's inhabiting it. When I was heavier, I didn't bother making an effort to dress up or look nice because in my mind fat=ugly and I believed that nobody was capable of seeing me as a woman. But now, as ridiculous as this is to type out, I'm actually acknowledging that I'm not just a personality/sense of humor/food maker that happens to have a body, but I am in fact a woman in a woman's body. And while this does not mean that I will be purchasing a mini skirt, ever, it also means that I will not make extra efforts to hide my body, either.

Finally, my fellow Big Sister or Big Brother reading this, let me tell you what my actual brother, Beriah, tells me: wherever you go, there you are. Translation: skinny does not automatically mean happiness. You will take your issues with you to Skinny Land, you can't cash them in. Happiness, like weight loss, does not just happen to you. It's something you create, define, redefine, work for, embrace and sustain.  As Jen said in her article, there is no magic number, no perfect, happy size. It's different for everyone. I have been really lucky to have had almost daily support and encouragement from my family, my friends, my church, and my gym community. With every passing victory, pound, pant size, and milestone I've had this collective voice of people cheering me along and forcing me(happily) to take and appreciate each day of this journey (cringe) as it comes. So when you read one of my numerous Facebook posts, or blog entries, or emails, where I am gushing about something or someone related to this process, you really have to understand the dark and dismal place from whence I came. And despite everything, my only regret in this lifelong diet/exercise history of mine is that I did not truly believe what my faith has taught me since the day I was born: that I, body, mind, and soul, am an image-bearer of God, and worth loving. And so are you, whatever size you may be.

And that's my two cents.

Around the Bend

Let's play a lovely game of high-low, and I'll go first (you can mentally chime in with me after you read this):

Low: I haven't been a very disciplined (non-Catholic) Catholic girl during this season of Lent. To be perfectly honest, if I wasn't so blatantly smitten with Yogi Jim's country charm and wholesome colloquialisms during class, I probably wouldn't even bother doing yoga on Tuesday/Thursday nights at the gym. I'd definitely lift and then go on the elliptical, but I would not opt to invest an hour of my body's energy in doing yoga (to all my yoga-loving readers, and especially those in PDX, this is simply an opinion about my personal preference, not a proclamation about the value of yoga as exercise) . My body, by the way, is in a weird, middle place right now (not to be confused with a plateau, which is another, more evil, type of weird, middle place). When you maintain an 18-month habit of exercising regularly, it becomes very difficult to choose to do nothing (I'll go on four mile walks on my day off out of sheer restlessness). When 90% of your workouts are fast-paced, cardio-intense gym classes, it is even more difficult to just do anything, even an hour of yoga with the amazing bending Jims. A year ago, back in my non-sports bra-wearing, over 220-lbs, and completely uncoordinated days, I would leave those yoga classes drenched in sweat and feeling thoroughly spent; my body needed that calmer form of intensity and it was a great work out for where I was then. But for where I am right now, my workout schedule can be summed up by Goose and Maverick: I feel the need, the need for speed.

 I really wanted to be able to tell you all that I followed through with my yoga promise, but I didn't. And I'm OK with that because during this process I learned that I really just don't have an emotional connection with yoga. If you exercise at all, chances are there is some activity/sport/class that you tend to favor above all others. In my family, my sister Kim loves running and bikram yoga, Christina loves doing anything that involves the outdoors and kickboxing, and I, not surprisingly, love Zumba (with Cardio Sculpt and kickboxing tied for second place in my heart). If you were to compare my exercise preferences to a balanced meal, Zumba would be my big portion of greens, kickboxing and Cardio Sculpt would be my smaller portions of (complex) carbohydrates and (vegetable) protein, and a class like yoga would be the occasional late-night snack, like popcorn. I just couldn't eat popcorn every night for forty days*. Sorry, dedicated Lent-ers! By the way, just in case you're wondering what I'd consider to be dessert, a rare treat of perfectly indulgent happiness: Zumbathons.

*In hindsight, I really wish I had actually set out to practice Zumba every day of Lent, but when it's Ash Wednesday and you're sitting in Catholic church, and a stern-faced nun smears the Cross on your forehead, you're not really thinking, "Lord, in honor of your impending Resurrection from the Cross, I'm going work extra hard on my pelvic thrusts during Beanie Man's 'Gimme, Gimme, Gimme'. This is my sacrifice to your glory. Amen". Yoga seemed the more Lent-appropriate exercise option.

High: I've hit the -80lb mark. That means I'm 20 lbs away from the next big milestone of a 100 lb weight-loss and 40 lbs away from The Big Goal (insert trumpet playing). At this point, I'm hoping that after reading the -80 lb news, you sort of got over your disappointment in me for being a lousy (non-Catholic) Catholic. If you're not over said disappointment in my apparent lack of religious tradition, let me remind you that Passover is in four days and we can discuss your feelings at some point during the seder when I'm not singing the blessings. In Hebrew (I'm a non-Jewish Jew, too).

*Medium-High: I texted Chrissy about my weight-loss milestone (I also told her, in the most respectful of ways, that there had better be some kind of Zumba party scheduled for when I hit -100lbs because that kind of thing doesn't just happen every day, you know...). She figured that at the rate I was going (-1lb a week), it looked like I would meet that goal around late July. I was pretty excited about that very real, very not-so-far-off date for a whole 20 seconds before I read the part of her text message that said "And you know these next 20 lbs are going to be hard". That's the thing about Chrissy: she will not, under any circumstances, bull-crap you and especially not when it comes to her field of expertise. I'll never forget the time she began HIIT class by saying, "Guys, I'm gonna tell you all right now that tonight's class...it's going be hard". Sure enough, at some point during that class I actually put my sweaty forehead on the gym carpet and thought, "This is it. This is the moment when everything is going to explode out of both ends, and then I will never come back to the gym and I'll go back to being 253 pounds" (Thankfully, I did not explode). Needless to say, when I re-read that text, I actually said out loud, "Oh God...these next 20 lbs are going to be hard..."

Of course, I didn't actually get why the next 20 lbs had to be so hard. Please understand that I am still new at this 'being healthy' stuff. I am up to my ears in women's health magazines, journal abstracts, and assorted books to learn about why the human body is a lying, water-retaining jerk face that specializes in playing mind games (nothing conclusive yet). It is my feeling that in a just world, a person who works out regularly should be able to eat without ever having to think about calories. In a just world, there would be no skinny people that could eat anything and everything, and never once gain a pound. And in a just world, when I burn 3,500 calories a week, even if it's a week when I'm a pissy, menstruating wreck, I. should. lose. a. pound. I don't buy this whole "your body thinks its going into starvation mode, so it's slowing down your weight loss progress" crap. I want to send my body a note that says, "Dear Body, do you not recall that short Italian lady that pushed you out 28 years ago, the one whose love language is cooking? Starvation mode?...Really?..."

 Nevertheless I really really want to hit that -100 lb mark by July. As cheesy as this sounds, there's a kind of symbolic awesomeness to celebrating my liberation from obesity within a few weeks of Independence Day. Finally, and this is a bit hard to explain, but it means something to me to have someone like Chrissy say (and I paraphrase) "It looks like you might be -100lbs by July and it's going to be hard". It reminds me of my very first 5K, actually. I ran alone and it was very difficult for me (I had only ever run for 20 minutes at a time up until that point). But what I remember most about that race, other than the shock of actually finishing, was that every time I'd round the bend, Chrissy, who was running way ahead of me in the distance, would turn to check where I was and wave back at me. I didn't get all choked up over it or anything, but it did make me think, "She just..assumes I'll be around the bend...running..." Like I was a runner. And then it hit me that I actually was a runner at that moment. That's the other thing about Chrissy; she never sees me as "fat" and she certainly doesn't allow me to use it as an excuse to take it easy in her classes. She expects me, and everyone else, to keep going and push myself forward. And because she expects this kind of effort from me, I, in turn, do my best to meet her expectations. But even though I'm slower and my form is lousy, I never once think of myself as fat when I'm in those classes. I only ever think "I can and I will do this."

 So regardless of whether or not I meet the July goal, here are three truths about it:

1. I will lose these next 20 pounds, regardless of the hows and whens.
2. It will be very difficult and seemingly endless.
3. At some point I will stop seeing myself as fat outside of the gym classroom.