Bariatric Betty gets psyched out

The mind is a very powerful weapon, no doubt about it.  This last week was a good reminder of that.

First, I had a moment of clarity on Tuesday.  I went to step on the scale like I usually do most days, and had to turn it right side up first. The kids and dog had flipped it over the night before.  I waited a minute for it to recalibrate and then stepped on.  142.3 pounds!  Whoa.  That meant I had lost over 100 pounds from my highest!  I lost over 100 pounds!  Whoa.  I really didn't expect that.  Especially since I was 146 yesterday... wait.  I was 146 yesterday.  OK, occasionally I have a couple pounds of water weight that come off/ go on in 24 hours, but 4 pounds difference???  I stepped of and let it recalibrate again.  147.2.  Huh.  Recalibrate again.  147.2.  Darn.  So apparently it didn't recalibrate after I turned it over the first time and that was a big ol' "Psych!" from the universe.  But you know what, it wasn't that bad.  I've been telling myself that losing a solid hundred would be cool, but that I'm very happy with my 97 pound lost, and if I lose more it's bonus.  The great thing was, I proved to myself that I'm not selling myself a lie.  I felt proud before I stepped on the scale that morning, and I felt proud after I found out the first reading was wrong.  Slight less excited about blogging this week - that was going to be a fun post title - but I wasn't upset.  Yay!  My head is still screwed on right. 

Wednesday I ran 3.1 miles in the afternoon to continue to prepare for the 5k Jingle Bell Run I will be running December 9th in Cleveland.  I'm so excited about running my first 5k, and feel good that actually jogging the whole thing is something I can handle (barring the unforseen, that is).  I'm jogging at least 3 miles twice a week now, and shorter distances a couple other time a week.  So far my hip/ bursitis isn't bad.

Thursday was a rough day.  My job as a monitor at the elementary school has changed a bit.  I work with an autistic kindergartener one-on-one for the first half now, and then the third grade classes for the second half.  I miss working with the whole group of kindergartners and first graders, but I do enjoy helping my charge.   Most times.  Not Thursday.  Thursday was a full blown tantrum-all-day kind of day.  I really feel for him.  He's very bright - a kindergartner who can read at what I would say is a 1-2 grade level. But he just started speaking a year ago and his articulation/ intelligibilty is pretty poor.  That makes things very frustrating because many times people can't understand him and that can lead to tantrums.  Add to that his sensory integration issues - getting over stimulated by noise, light, textures... the poor guy has a lot to deal with.  His mind is constantly getting in the way of him learning and enjoying his peers.  That doesn't excuse tantrums, but helps me let go of my frustration in dealing with them.  It's my job to help him handle situations so that 1) he can avoid getting so frustrated that he loses control and 2) help him learn how to take control of himself and cope with challenges.  By the end of my time with him I helped him write an apology note to the people he upset throwing things around, and he apologized to me as well.

Thursday night I was working on frosting my famous candy cane cookies.  I started baking them earlier this week and haven't struggled with sneaking cookie dough or anything.  But that night was a different situation.  You see, the candy cane cookies get dipped in a peppermint glaze and then sprinkled with red sugar stripes.  The problem is that when you dip 100 cookies, you get glaze on your fingers over and over again.  And a couple of times I licked my fingers.  And then a couple more.  I finally stopped myself and stopped glazing for the night.  I didn't eat enough to make me dump, but I craved that sugar!  Not good. 

First victory - I stopped glazing when I realized what I was doing.  Second victory - I logged the glaze on my food diary.  For those of you who started reading recently, I had a horrible moment of self-realization back in my pre-op days when I found myself lying on the food diary.  To myself.  Who was the ONLY ONE who would be reading my food log.  Seriously, how warped is that?  I didn't want to say I ate a cookie, so I had recorded 1 apple, 1 biscuit/ roll, and 1 tablespoon of butter.  Lying to myself was a real low.  I had already turned in my food log for approval for surgery, and there was nobody to impress...  It was a real eye-opener of how warped my mind could be.  But not this time.  I logged it! 

Final victory - I told my husband about my poor choice and the next day I finished glazing the cookies without making the same mistakes.  I invited my kids and then my husband to come in the kitchen with me while I did it so I knew I had accountability other than myself.  I needed to talk to my husband anyway - and he was worried about my slipping up the night before and wanting to be supportive, so it worked out well for both of us. 

I'm not perfect - and never will be, but I will continue to succeed because I HAVE TO.  This is a committment I have made to myself and my family.  I will remain healthy.  My kids and husband are willing to live with less (or no) cookies if neccesary, and I am thankful for their support. 

Our mind can be our best defense and our worst enemy.  And for those friends who read this blog and have not had weight loss surgery, that is why those of us who are surgically altered tend to get militant about how we're eating and our routines - because we know that we have tendencies to get out of control, and we've already risked our life to get healthy.  That little bit of sugar made me crave sugar for the next 4 days.  So I won't be sending care packages of cookies to my out of town friends this year because I'm not making as much as I used to.  But I know you love me anyway :) 
 

Bariatric Betty sells her past and her deals with her lying scale

In my former life, I was very active with my sorority.  Many who know me find this amusing, because I was raised by liberal/ hippie parents (brought home from the hospital in a tie-died onesie, no less) and tend to agree with liberals in general.  I also tend to dress super casual and wear little to no makeup on most days.  But it's true.  I love my sorority - Phi Mu - and have served it in many ways over the years.  When I was in college I found that the stereotypes of sororities were false; the women were intelligent, down to earth, and willing to live by stricter rules than the rest of the college students while donating their time and money to local children's hospitals.  What's not to love?  After I graduated I traveled for a year representing the sorority as a chapter consultant.  I supervised and reported on dozens of collegiate chapters and advised them on risk management, recruitment, scholarship, and philanthropy among other things.  Was I skinny?  No.  I was overweight, but nicely put together and with the attitude that I could make a difference in women's lives.  And I did - it was fabulous.  After my term was up, I decided to serve in a different way (I missed having my own home during a 100% travel position).  I was appointed the National Music Chair, which I LOVED.  I have always sung, and apparently word spread of my teaching women to sing while I traveled.  I attended local and national conferences, created choir programs and directed performances.  Later I served for years as a local officer, supervising collegiate chapters (mostly from afar) but still attending conferences and conventions.  As a result I have accumulated a LARGE wardrobe of suits, semiformal, and formal dresses over the years.  Not only because of the number of teas, balls, and conference sessions I have attended, but because of my fluctuating sizes. 

I ended up resigning as an officer of the sorority mostly because of the overwhelming needs of my special needs son at the time.  But I have to be honest, part of it was because of my weight.  I had less and less energy, and dressing up was getting more and more difficult.  Trying to find semi-formal and formal dresses as a 5'2" size 22 was difficult.  Forget attractive, it was just finding things that fit and didn't break my bank account.  So the dresses and suits have gathered dust for the last 5-6 years in my closet.  I donated some of them when I moved about a year ago.  The rest I hung onto for sentimental reasons, and because I thought - someday I might need them. 

No more.  When our local PTAs held their fall community garage sale, I purged my closet.  50% of everything sold goes back to the consigners, and the rest goes to PTA scholarships for graduating seniors.  Best of all, anything not purchased is donated.  So many plus size women will be getting some new outfits - maybe for job interviews, maybe for nights out or weddings.  Mostly, it's me letting go of what was.  I would like to volunteer for my sorority again, and when I weigh less I will have more energy to do so - plus have more fun getting dressed up for parts of it.  I only kept two dresses and one suit.  All are smaller sizes than I current wear, and ones that I actually felt pretty in when I wore them.  6 months after surgery I'll get rid of them too, or take them to the tailor.  The day before surgery I will be donating 90% of my "fat clothes" - only keeping enough to wear for the first month.  And meanwhile I'm buying smaller pants in assorted signs at the same sale - an idea I got from one of the WLS support groups on facebook.  They suggested getting some at garage sales since I will be changing sizes so quickly - you don't want to invest much until you stabilize.  I'm letting go of my obese past - and using the money I get for clothes for my healthy future.

My lying scale.  Ughh.  I look forward to stepping onto my scale every morning.  Nothing in my stomach, I've used the bathroom, I'm only wearing pjs.  This is the lightest I will be all day.  I usually weigh myself and then step back on holding my shoes (which are 1 1/2 pounds).  Here's the thing, when I was weighed at the doctor's office I didn't have my shoes on but it was 5pm.  And it said I weighed 5 more pounds than I did that morning WITH shoes.  Phbbbblltttt.  That's harsh.  I know that you are always heavier later in the day, but ouch.  So I don't trust my scale, even though it is pretty new.  I add 2 pounds onto the weight I get in the morning with my shoes before I record it in myfitnesspal.com log, because I don't want to have a bad surprise when I go back to the surgeon's office.  And I don't want them to look at my log and say "Hmmmm, you say you lost x pounds, but you also say you weight 5 pounds less than you do."  OK, would they do that?  I doubt it.  But it's my insecurity talking.  So I call my scale a liar, add two pounds before logging my weight, and just feel happy when  the number goes down.  And when my clothes fit better.  And when I get a complement.  :)

Lastly, I had to do a drawing project with my kids.  No matter how well I thought I had explained the operation to them, they kept thinking I would come home from the hospital skinny.  I wish!  So we traced my torso on posterboard, and then I drew in all the relevant internal organs.  I showed them the incisions that would be made, and how my Roux-en-Y bypass would rearrange things.  Then I said "When I come home, this outside line tracing my body will still be the same.  The surgery will not take fat away.  The outline will get smaller as I diet after surgery - the surgery just helps me not feel so hungry and lose weight faster."  Then they said "So, in a couple weeks you'll be skinnier".  Uhhhh, no.  "In a couple weeks I'll weigh less but still be obese.  In a couple months I won't be obese, I'll just be overweight., and in a couple of years I should be really healthy."  We'll see if the info sticks this time.  And I'm keeping the posterboard - because 6 months after surgery I want them to trace me again with a different color marker - so I can see how far I've come!