Days of future paths…

In my elementary school we had a “chip trail” that went around the entire huge perimeter of the school grounds.  Almost every day the majority of students went down to our wood-paneled gym and did aerobics, followed by at least one lap of that chip trail.  I don’t recall the distance a lap was, but it was decent.  It crossed grassy & gravel fields, past playgrounds, the hills we’d toboggan down in 1 inch of snow and best of all – through the cool leafy tunnel of trees and bush that surrounded the furthest part of the path.  I loved this part of the chip trail.  It’s where I could pick up speed as I went downhill, letting my long legs propel me and carry me past other students.  We kids didn’t have to look down at our feet, we all knew that trail like sure-footed deer.  Just running, breathing deep and feeling strong and healthy. We were FIT kids.

Those days come to mind as I am out walking every morning and often afternoon.  My legs are remembering what it’s like to feel strong and capable to carry me across long distances.  I love my walks.  No chip trail here, but the view and smells are no less appealing.  Past century old homes with intricate stained glass windows and gingerbread woodwork, admiring the colourful gardens of my neighbours and along the river that cuts through the centre of town.  I so miss the water.  I enjoy watching the sleeping ducks, the curmudgeonly old men with their bent cigarettes clamped between weather worn faces, and the multi-generation families sitting together fishing.  I’ll say “good morning” to those who look like they’d welcome it, and may have given the finger to one cyclist who almost ran over a ladies dog.

I have a new appreciation for my physical ability.  I always knew I was a strong woman – mentally and physically, but now I am really feeling it.  I’m seeing the results of my efforts and every day my endurance gets better and better.  I can feel my confidence starting to return.  I find myself standing taller.  I love who I am becoming.

This new path isn’t lined with wood chips, the shades of green that are unique to the Sunshine Coast, or the smell of the salt air, but it’s a good path nonetheless.  I’m on a good path forward, toward a healthier, stronger and perhaps even wiser life and these 44-year-old legs are ready for it.

Giraffe loose in my house… no really….

What a week.  And I mean that in a good way!

Hospitals are noisy places.  Between the constant sounds of various machines beeping and booping, there’s not-so-private heated family arguments, an extremely constipated Portuguese woman in the room next door (KAKA!!), and the pitter patter of post-op bariatric patients walking laps trying to fart.  Glad I brought ear plugs.  Should have brought nose plugs.

Eating is a full-time job.  Between the multivitamins, calcium, vitamin D & B and pain meds that had me seeing a giraffe on the stairs last night AND 3-4 cups of water AND 70 or so grams of protein AND actual FOOD – it’s no wonder I have a few naps a day.  By food I mean breakfast consisting of 1/4 cup of cream of wheat or the same of tomato soup.  Discovered unflavoured protein powder tastes pretty good in fat free/sugar free chocolate pudding, but not so much in cottage cheese.  It takes me a good 1/2 hour or more to eat that 1/4 cup of food.  Eat slow, see how the pouch feels, try a bit more till the serving is done.  I know it doesn’t sound like much, but as my friend Jill likes to say – “the struggle is real”.

Support has been amazing.  I mean TRULY amazing.  I have the best friends.  Between the sweet gifts and new pjs, the tidy house and checking in on me – I really could not ask for any better.  I have the BEST dad.  He’s been worried.  He’s such a help.  Love that guy to bits.  Have yet to see my brother.    Everyone needs a Carol in their life.

So – how am I doing so far?  Down 27 lbs since July 21st – 18 of which I’ve lost since last Tuesday.  Sounds like a lot but I am convinced there was about $13.35 in change sitting in my stomach that was removed.  Swallowed it when I was a kid.  Probably a marble or 2, some Hubba Bubba and at least 1 fly that I swallowed the week before while mowing the lawn.  That’s all got to count for a few pounds right?

Another week of liquids to go, then onto pureed.  Exciting shit.

Surgery Eve and a random story

24 hours from now I should be tooting up a storm in the hospital.

I can’t believe it’s Surgery Eve.  Last day of my 2 week liquid diet – which has been challenging – I will never drink a vanilla or chocolate milkshake ever again.  Not that I did often anyway, but still, Optifast ruined them for me.  Sure, it might sound like fun to drink milkshakes for 2 weeks, but wow that shit gets old fast.  I seriously miss CHEWING!  And I don’t particularly like Taco Bell, but I’ve seen a commercial for their $5.00 box of questionable meat products wrapped in carbs and holyshitballsbatman I want it!!

Food is an addiction.  I know this for sure.  I have dreamed about hamburgers, I’ve avoided driving down 10th St in case I get stuck at the light in front of the KFC and at the scented mercy of 11 herbs and spices, and I’ve cheated a bit.  A few crackers and chicken breast here and there.  I beat myself up over it, and then just dealt with it and moved on.  It’s all I can do.  Here’s the thing- we NEED food.  Take heroin for example (not literally dummy) – it’s not advertised on tv (unless you’re watching Intervention), it’s not on billboards and it’s not vital one’s basic existence.  Food is.  It’s EVERYWHERE.  This might be a big deal to some people, but when food has been your best friend for years, it’s tough to break up and go cold turkey.  But it’s done.  One more shake tonight and that’s that.

So other things I’ve learned the last couple of weeks, besides my new found dislike of milkshakes is that when one gets the opportunity to pee – take it. I learned this the hard way on Thursday.  I was leaving work and should have darted into the ladies room, but decided to just wait as I was going right home.  Until I got I the car and the gas light came on.  So while I was filling up at CanuckyTire, I noticed the largest bird shit on my car, like seriously I was concerned for the bird.  I decided to go through the car wash.  I must have forgotten my need to pee, but oh shit did I remember as soon as I got stuck in the lineup.  I was committed to the line, no escape – all I could do was pray the guy in front of me didn’t go for the super deluxe 10 minute deal, but yeah – he did.  Did I mention the sound of water?  Yeah, that doesn’t help.  Finally got my turn and pretty much willing myself to not ruin the leather seats – although I did have a moment pondering what I’d need to do to clean them should the Hoover Dam break.  Thankfully the sound of the dryers started and I may have chirped my tires as I sped out of there, managing to bypass KFC’s aroma and get myself home.  Ever notice the need to pee is 10x worse as soon as you attempt to unlock the front door?  And why is it cats know to run directly in front of you all the way to the loo?  And why does a once simple button and zipper suddenly become a Houdini trick involving dance moves?  Made it though.  Moral of the story?  Listen to the call of nature!

Alright – I’ve WAY overshared.  Just you wait – I’ll probably have some good tooting stories after surgery that’ll put the above to shame.  I know – you’re holding your breath aren’t you?  Wise idea.

Day 3 – Milkshakes are not bringing the boys to my yard..

Walking down the hall of my work today with just the sound of my thighs rubbing together to keep me company.  Could always be worse.  I could be wearing cords.

On day 3 now of the liquid diet.  Takes some getting used to drinking something on the sweet side for 3 meals a day.  It’s like drinking a slightly runny chocolate or vanilla milkshake for breakfast, lunch & dinner.  Gets old really fast.  Only a bit more than a week left – and this is the easy part.  After surgery it’s clear fluids only for 2 days while I’m still in the hospital, then 2 weeks of a liquid diet that I have a bit more freedom with (no more shakes!) and then onto pureed for 2 weeks.  Mmmm pureed.  That’ll be special.  Then I’ll slowly be adding food back into my diet again – really tiny pieces and portions.  My “pouch” as they call it will be smaller than my fist, so not a lot of room.  I think I need to nickname the pouch.  Sounds like I’m a kangaroo otherwise.  I’ll think on that. Open to suggestions.

I wanted to thank all those that read my first entry in this journey, and all the amazing messages and posts you made on FB.  I can not even begin to tell you how much I appreciate all the encouragement, support and understanding.  Thank you.  I’d hug the shit out of each and every one of you if I could.  Well some of you I can.  Might even grab an ass or two.  No seriously, I’m floored by your response.  Thank you.  Ya bunch of knuckleheads.

Death of the fat me.

Well here goes plenty.

I am fat.  I don’t mean 5 lbs of “I ate too much pizza” fat.  I mean fat.  I don’t ask anyone if “I look fat in these pants” because I already know the answer – a resounding YES!!!

For years I tried to soften the word and my reality by calling myself “fluffy”.  Seriously Lisa?  Fluffy?  I guess I thought it was kinder than chubby, husky or overweight, and certainly nicer than admitting I’m (gasp) OBESE.  That word is reserved for fat people.  Oh wait – that’s me.

So how the fuck did I get to this point?  Hell if I know.  Liar pants on fire.  I do too.  I ate.  Duh.  But WHY did I eat.  Oh now we’re onto something.

I recall getting compliments from people (and not always my family so I know they had to be legit) about my legs and how shapely they were.  I had muscle definition.  I didn’t have a tummy or a fat ass.  I was just me.  To be honest, I don’t really recall my weight being much of a thought to me as a teenager.  I had stupid curly hair – THAT was my own personal hell.  Yet I was never asked out on a date, and as far as I know, not a single guy I went to high school with saw me as anything other than just Lisa.

A quick story.  There was a career/college day in my high school gym one day.  I don’t recall much other than there were ballots for draws to win shit.  I must have put my name in at least one, because I won a free consultation at a modeling agency in Vancouver.  Keep in mind, all they did was pull my name out of a bucket – my looks had nothing to do with it.  I had zero interest, but whatever, it was cool to win something.  Word got out to my classmates.  Well didn’t I have a lovely (sarcasm) conversation with this guy and 2 girls that he followed around like a dog in heat about my big win?  Sure I did.  He says to me “Why do you need a modeling contract, you’re not pretty.  Both X and Y are gorgeous and deserve it more than you do – you should give it to one of them.  It’s totally wasted on you.”  Gee thanks douchebag.  I don’t recall exactly what I said, but I can be sure a “fuck you” was thrown in there, and this made me want to go to the stupid consultation now!  And I did go with my overly excited Momager in tow.  It was fun tour, they loved my legs and blah blah blah – that was the end of my modeling career.  Essentially it was a money grab on their end.  The thing is, that went down when I was 17 or so.  I’m 44 now.  I still remember those shitty words.  I remember a lot of unkind things, but that one sticks out.

My self esteem was taking a beating that year, and subsequent following years.  After high school I got into partying and I loved it.  Thankfully I danced my heart-out most nights with my besties at the one and only nightclub around, so that helped keep my weight down.  It was after I left my hometown, moving to the big city of Vancouver and leaving what was familiar things began to change.  The freedom to go out for dinner and make whatever I wanted for dinner was novel and fun.  I was putting on a bit of weight – the freshman 15 without the immense tuition fees.  I joined a gym in my efforts to keep fit.  I recall the chick taking that caliper thingy to me and doing some math – coming to the conclusion that my BMI of 24 was fat.  Oh self, I wish I could have told you that you were just fine!  I worked out daily, sometimes twice a day. I was looking pretty good.  I was strong.  It was a good thing I was.

I could go on with a super long story about an incident that changed my life.  I won’t.  I’ll just say that I survived an attempted sexual assault and beating from a neighbours drugged out son, who intended to kill me in my own home.  It took 6 cops to take him down.   He only got 3 months in jail, and a restraining order.  I got months of therapy and a need to be with my family who were all in Ontario.  I left BC, all my friends and started a new life.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but that incident in particular started my fatness.  I wanted to be invisible.  I wanted to hide.  I didn’t want to be hurt like that again.  I thought I had done something to bring that attack on myself.  So I began to make myself undesirable, unnoticed and unattractive.  I ate to sooth and comfort myself with a big bag of Lay’s potato chips.  It worked I was shopping in plus-size stores.  I was fat.  And I was ok with that.  For several years in fact.  Oh sure I tried dieting – pretty much all of them.  Gained it all back too – and then some.  Depression and anxiety held hands with my fat and we all danced around in the circle – blaming one another for not knowing how to get out of this shitty dance but not letting go.

I can’t pinpoint exactly when my mindset started to change.  The death of my mom maybe?  Seeing just how fragile and short life can be – and that it’s to be valued and lived to it’s fullest.  Hard to do that when I’m pretty much carrying around an extra person. I’d been working on the inside me, and needed the outside me to keep up.  Hard to keep up when you’re fat.  A few more attempts and failures.  I needed inspiration – and I got it from my aunt Kim.  I wanted to be just like her.

So it begins.  After a few years of research and discussion, a year of consultations, classes and appointments with specialists – I am kissing my old self goodbye.  Today is my last day of being fat.

Tuesday, July 21st, 2015 is the first day for the new me.  I begin a liquid pre-op diet for 2 weeks, and go in for gastric bypass surgery on August 4th.

I am scared, nervous and worried, but I am also excited, committed, positive and hopeful.  Most of all, I am looking forward to reclaiming my life.

Good bye fat me.  Hello healthy me!!