i heart mimi

I started rehab today.

OK, Weight Watchers. Same difference.

The only things missing are the chain smoking, and Dr. Drew.

Otherwise, it’s rehab. Think about it. My drug of choice is being restricted. (Of course, I can’t go cold turkey because of the pesky need for food to … well … live. It would be easier if I could say, “Screw you, delicious taco pizza! Never again!” But no. I must sup to survive.) And there’s that element of therapy. (Is your hunger physical, or emotional? Listen to your body AND mind.) And there are the leaders … cheerleaders … in snappy little suits, showing the crowd their “before” and “after” pictures, and offering bits of sage advice. Yep. Rehab.

I chose Weight Watchers because it’s realistic. Real food. Real personal responsibility. Real support. And the last thing is something I’ve been sorely missing on my “Lap-Band Journey,” as the experts like to call it. Like there will someday be an end to this battle. Doubt it.

In a conversation with my husband this morning, I was explaining to him why I chose to join Weight Watchers. He kind of didn’t get it, considering the restrictive device I had surgically implanted in my gut. He thinks it should be kind of magical when they wheel you out of surgery. Believe me, it’s not.

And so I explained to him that — at least with my surgeon’s program — there’s a real lack of a plan and support once surgery has happened. There are monthly support group meetings and a dietician on staff to help with food issues. But there’s no outlined plan that says, “eat this; don’t eat that.” (Hey … great book title!). There’s no website (OK, there’s this site called www.ObesityHelp.com, but it’s a lot of forums and marketing of gastric surgery, IMHO). And there’s no regular (weekly) meeting in which I get on a scale and stand there, accountable for my actions.

I need a no-excuses plan of action.

I joined with my best friend. That makes me feel hopeful. I believe just having someone else there is imperative. We have already texted a handful of times today. “I’m hungry,” I said. “I swear I smell barbecue,” she said. I love her.

I also worry about her. She will probably kill me for saying this, but her blood pressure is an issue. Her doctor yelled at her the other day about it. She comes from a family of big girls, just like me, and I don’t want her to die. Her mom died way too young. So did her grandfather.

So there we sat, newbies in a sea of old pros. One woman at the meeting today had lost 75 pounds on the program. Wow. I would be really close to liking my body if I could do that. And wearing clothes I’ve purchased for just such an occasion. Yeah. I do that. I buy clothes that don’t fit yet. It’s dumb, but it makes me feel hopeful.

So rehab should be fun. I’ve always approached such things with skepticism. I’m not the Weight Watchers type. I don’t like the catchy little sayings … “Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels” … I don’t like the phony leaders that are paid to pretend they think I’m funny (which I am) … I don’t like the balls-out marketing of Weight Watchers products I must endure in my meeting place. Uh-nnoying.

But I would like to feel better. I would like to have more energy. And look better. I would like to wear that sweet shirt with skulls and crossbones all over it that I can squeeze into right now, but that totally gives me back-boobs. Yikes. I want to be able to skate faster at roller derby, and have more endurance, and look hot in fishnets when I compete. Cause I’m wearing fishnets come hell or high water. Not negotiable. Hopefully, my legs won’t look like a Thanksgiving ham.

So begins rehab. Wish me luck.

3 Comments | In: My Unsolicited Opinion | tags: Best friend, Chain smoking, Diet, Dr. Drew, Fishnets, Lap-Band, Lap-Band Journey, Rehab, Roller derby, Support group, Taco pizza, Weight loss, Weight Watchers. | #

In August 2008, I had Lap-Band surgery. I chose bariatric surgery because I had gained 10 pounds a year for 10 years. I was in trouble. I felt hopeless. And I have good health insurance that covers such surgeries.

But what should have been the start of a better life has been a big fail.

I have lost 32 pounds. I have battled to keep it off. I have a long, long way to go. And as I analyze what has gone wrong, I have come up with a number of answers:

1.) I have been secretive and have not told the people who could be most supportive. Close friends – people with whom I share my innermost thoughts – don’t know about my Lap-Band. I am embarrassed that I needed weight-loss surgery to stop an out-of-control train. I am even more embarrassed that I have had such poor results.

2.) I didn’t understand before surgery that the biggest change that needed to occur would be inside my own head. Because I can eat all the right foods and hit the gym every day, but if I keep thinking of myself as a disappointment – as inadequate – I will never succeed. I will always sabotage myself. I put on a good show for the world, but I have major self-esteem issues.

3.) I have avoided accountability. I don’t attend support group meetings. I roll my eyes at the thought of acquiring a “buddy” from a list provided by my surgeon’s office. I avoid food-journaling, dietician visits, and even routine checkups like the plague. I am not good at processing criticism, therefore I avoid situations in which I will be judged.

So what do I do? How do I fix this problem? Not sure. But I think a good start is talking about it. That’s my new approach. If it hurts, blog it. If it’s embarrassing, clench teeth and type.

I also visited my bariatric surgeon’s office this morning. It was the first time I had been there since May. Back before my world exploded, and before I experienced The Worst Summer and Autumn of My Life.

I went in expecting a major dose of “get-your-shit-together,” and came out feeling better. I sat on the exam table and bawled my eyes out, and my surgeon listened. I rambled about how frustrated I’ve been by an injury that has impeded my ability to exercise. He listened about my struggles with anxiety and emotional eating. And he heard me say that I just don’t feel like the Lap-Band was the right choice; I want a do-over.

Then he told me I couldn’t get my band adjusted today  — in other words, tightened to give me more restriction in the amount of food I can eat — because he thinks there may be a problem with it. Instead, I get a barium swallow — a test to determine if something is wrong. Yay.

But I was struck because I’ve been beating the crap out of myself for months, and all along there may have been a technical difficulty. I hate that I punish myself.

I will find out January 28. Until then, I will keep trying. To reframe. To eat better. And to figure out a solution to this injury that is so very frustrating.

So there you go. My big fail, revealed.

I guess now that I’m out, I can talk about it freely, and will be happy to answer questions. Don’t be scared away if you’re thinking of getting a Lap-Band; I don’t regret that I did it. For the first time EVER, I have kept off weight that I lost. I was never able to do that before.

The road ahead is long, but I’m on the road. That’s what matters. I just need to get my ass moving again.

Literally and figuratively.

–Mimi

9 Comments | In: My Unsolicited Opinion | tags: Bariatric surgery, Embarrassed, Emotional eating, Exercise, Fail, Lap-Band, Trying, Weight loss. | #