This elusive place called Onederland

If you have read my blogs before, I think I know what you're thinking. She did it! She made it to Onederland! What an accomplishment?

Nope.

It's been three weeks and my weight has just...stalled. My doctor said eat more carbs. My nutritionist said eat more often. My nurse said eat more protein. My body is changing but the scale just...isn't.

I share this for one big reason: this weight loss thing is a battle for my heart and my soul. And I don't want to only share the victories. The real truth is that I am wildly frustrated. And I am wondering when I will get to see a "1" at the beginning of my weight on the scale. I thought I would have crushed that milestone by now. A three week stall when I am training for a half marathon and running 15-18 miles a week?

Come on.

The thing that I hate about social media is we don't really post what's truly going on. We post the best stuff. The stuff we are proud of. The moments that we want to remember. Because why would we post about the struggles? The stuff we are ashamed of? The moments we want to forget?

Amidst this frustration of a perceived "lack of progress" I am reminded daily of how far I have come. And God gives me three words every day when I want to quit.

Stay. The. Course.

Stay the course. Remain and be present in the process. Embrace the discomfort. Do the work. Share all of it. All of it. Because our collective story will never just be the "facebook moments." Our story is the highs and lows and all points in between. 

We will make it to Onederland. When it's time. And until then, we will stay the course. Today I ran 9 miles, because that's what is on my training plan. Tomorrow will reveal itself to me. 

When it's time.

This magical place called "Onederland"

When I first started my bariatric surgery journey, I was 318 pounds. But that was not my heaviest.

Have you ever noticed the maximum weight on almost every doctor's scale? In case you didn't know, it's 350 pounds. And I remember a time, in my 20s, when I tipped that scale. I remember it because it was one of the most humiliating experiences I've ever had. But that didn't wake me up when it should have. Instead, it made me crawl back into the overeating hole I was used to. Food for comfort, making me more uncomfortable than ever.

March 2018 was my first appointment towards bariatric surgery. That was my initial 318 pound weigh-in. I had lost and gained and lost and gained many times before. But admitting I needed help was my biggest struggle. After two back surgeries in the past 5 years, my lowest adult weight of 239 crept right back to 318. What I had worked so hard to lose seemed to come back so easily. Isn't that always the way?

The bariatric surgery community always talked about something called "Onederland." It's when you finally see a "1" as the first number on the scale. I can't explain how intangible and out of reach that felt to me at 318 pounds. When was the last time I saw a 1 as the first number on the scale? I have racked my brain and truly can't remember.

As a kid, one of the most terrifying sentences I heard every year from my mom was this one:

"It's time for your yearly physical."

Back to school meant getting a physical. Getting a physical meant getting weighed. Getting weighed meant humiliation and shame for me as a middle school girl. As a kid, doctors don't really know how to address your weight. Parents don't know either. My mom and dad did the best they could do, but unless I wanted to change, there was no changing. And so it went for me for years. College was no better, and as an adult, I found other ways to compensate socially. I was always outgoing, always funny, always the life of the party.

"Onederland" is not just about a number on a scale. It's a victory that I have never thought was meant for me. It's a dream. It's a myth. It's a magical place with leprechauns riding unicorns and jumping over rainbows. But it was never made for me.

Through my surgery preparation between March and July, I went to a lot of support groups and therapy appointments and listened. A lot. And I realized that sometimes, we believe a lie for so long that we start to live up to it. I never thought I would get to Onederland, because I believed the lie that I didn't deserve it.

So here I am, at 204 pounds. Onederland is coming. And when it does, it will be the biggest victory yet. The victory I thought I couldn't grab, the goal I thought I would never reach, the life I thought I could never live. I don't know when it will happen, but that doesn't really matter, because I know it is coming.

What is your Onederland? Whatever it is, you deserve it. We all do.

Take me out to the ball game

Tiny seats. Tiny sweatshirt. Massive dimples.

For most of my adult life, a simple social question created complex social anxiety in my heart:

"Want to go to the game this weekend?"

That question would bring up a slew of follow up questions in my mind: Where is the game? Is it at PNC Arena? What are the seats like? How big are they? Am I going to fit? Are there arms on the chairs? How will I fit past people on the aisles? Will anyone be sitting next to me? Because if so, they are probably going to be squished sitting next to me.

If you've never been overweight, you might think this sounds neurotic and dramatic. I assure you, it is  the series of questions that always went through my head when anyone asked me to a game. Or a concert. Or a restaurant. Or a trip. Or a movie. When you get to be a certain size, your world also gets to be a certain size. I got bigger and my world got smaller.

Last week I was shopping in Kohl's with a friend and her kids. I mentioned needing a new hoodie and  instead of going to the "big and tall" men's section, we went to the women's Nike hoodies. I found a grey XL sweatshirt and held it up when my friend promptly told me "that is WAY too big for you." She handed me a large purple sweatshirt instead and told me to try it on. I panicked for a second, thinking "there is no way this is going to fit, and I am going to be in the middle of Kohl's wearing an impossibly tight sweatshirt looking like a dummy."

But the women's large sweatshirt fit. When 6 months ago I would wear a men's 2xl. I got in line to buy the sweatshirt and I was just staring at the tag. When was the last time I wore a large? When was the last time I wore a women's Nike large? I was fighting back my tears in the checkout line. It was such a victory for me to finally buy something that wasn't the largest something in the store. Even my friend's kind son leaned up against me, looked at me and said "This a lot to take in, huh?" Smart kid.

So I went to the ball game. In my Nike women's large sweatshirt. And I sat in those tiny seats at PNC Arena. And I sat in that moment with thankfulness for every single one of the 108 pounds I have lost so far. What a victory it is for me to fit in anywhere I want now. Any game. Any concert. Any movie. Any airplane. Any Nike sweatshirt.

And as usual, without my friends there, I would have bought that too big grey sweatshirt. And I wouldn't have gone to PNC Arena for fear of not fitting in. And I would not have realized the weight of the moment. (see what I did there?)

Let your friends be your mirror.

Branded!

As a 5' 10" 300+ pound woman, shopping always terrified me.

Shopping malls made me anxious. If a friend wanted to go shopping in a clothing store, I would hang out by the accessories. And not even the rings or the bracelets. The necklaces. Maybe the scarves. Or the socks. I pretended to care about shopping for...socks.

And as my friends would try on clothes and could choose any color of any item off of any rack, I just tried to avoid the awkward interaction with a sales person on the floor.

"Are you finding everything ok?"

"No, not really. In fact, nothing you have here fits me. Not even close. And I have to wait here while my naturally thin friends have to decide what to buy because they have all the choices in the world."

(actually, the only answer I could ever muster up was "Yup! Thanks!" I always wondered if they were questioning why I was even in their store in the first place, because the up and down looks I got sort of tipped me off...)

Since I started the push towards weight loss surgery in March, I started at 318 pounds. I ripped out a page from the LL Bean catalog and put it on my fridge. It was a page with regular women's clothing. Sizes S-XL. I had never been able to fit into anything smaller than the largest plus size LL Bean had -  a 3XL. That picture was my motivation that everyday choices might one day get me into everyday sizes.

On Black Friday, a few friends and I were among the crazies to go shopping at an outlet mall. I walked into J. Crew to just get some perspective of where I was with everyday sizes. It took courage for me to take an XXL shirt off of the rack and try it on in a dressing room. It took courage for me to pick out another XL shirt just to see how close I could be to fitting into an everyday size. I have shopped at Old Navy online for everything. That had been my only choice. And my mind had been trained to look for the biggest sizes everywhere i go. The bigger my clothes were, the more I could...hide. Baggy clothes made me feel small. But, baggy clothes also made me feel...small. In all the ways I didn't want.

So there I was in the J. Crew changing room and I had a moment. That XXL shirt was too big. That XL shirt fit me perfectly. And their chinos. And their sweaters. And I was no longer the largest size they carried. I fit in. And I proudly replaced that XXL button down knowing I would never need it again.

That LL Bean catalog clipping is gone from my fridge, replaced by new milestones to hit. And I have since had to downsize my pants from the Gap. Every time I wear my LL Bean shirt or my J Crew chinos or my Gap pants I can't believe they fit. When I take them out of the dryer to do laundry I still think "these aren't my pants, these are tiny."

I am waiting for my brain to catch up to my body. But every day is progress. And every day is a day I accept as it is. And who knows? Maybe you'll see me shopping at stores in the mall soon. And maybe I'll roll into one of the "fancy" stores I used to go to and get up and down looks while perusing their sock collection and ask the salesgirl: "You work on commission, right? Big mistake! Big! Huge!"

I think Julia Roberts would be proud.

Side effects

Picture on the left? Thanksgiving last year. Picture on the
right? Me at the car dealership a few weeks ago. With
less "size on me..."

So, I am about 4 1/2 months out from surgery (July 11th). The weather is changing here in North Carolina. And I have lost my outer layer of warmth, about 99 pounds of it actually.

I am freezing. All the time. Side effect.

Today, for instance, was a sunny day, high of about 50 degrees. So naturally I wore wool socks and two jackets. I am forever wearing wool socks and two jackets. I also had to steal a space heater from a co-worker. Thanks, AB!

A few weeks ago, I got a new car. It reminded me of the last time I shopped for a new car three years ago. I remember going to the dealership and the Ford salesman asked what I was looking for. I told him an SUV, anything from an Explorer to an Escape.

The poor guy looked at me and said "hmmm...not sure you would want an Escape. You have some size to you."

I say "poor guy" because I bet the look on my face was enough to make him want to crawl into a hole. I "have some size" to me? Are you allowed to say that? The sad thing is...he was right. I just hated that he was right. So I got an Explorer, and walked away feeling the opposite you feel when you get a new car: embarrassed and ashamed.

But that was then. And this is now. I could get any car I want this time. In fact, my rental car was a tiny Toyota Corolla for a few weeks and you know what? I fit in it just fine. I don't have that "size" to me anymore. Side effect.

But today, today was a great side effect I wasn't anticipating. I probably work out in the mornings 5 times a week. It's the same crowd at the Y at that time, and I know most of the faces but we are there to get a job done and leave so there isn't a whole lot of socializing. This morning, a woman I have seen often but never have talked to took her headphones out to talk to me. I found out her name is Kimberly. Here's how the conversation went:

Kimberly: "You look amazing! What are you doing?"
Me: "Well, I had weight loss surgery in July, but I have to stay active and work the plan to stay healthy."
Kimberly "I am doing the low carb thing, it's so hard."
Me: "You are in here every time I'm here so you are doing something right!"
(insert small talk about squats and sugar and the bench press)
Kimberly: "I have to tell you, you are my inspiration to show up in the mornings. Watching your transformation motivates me to keep trying."
(insert me sweating and also crying a little bit too.)

What?! I didn't go into this thinking it would affect other people like it has. Every day is a chance for me to encourage someone else that tells me how happy and healthy I look. And it's not just about weight loss. It's about taking chances. Asking for help. Knowing your worth. Fighting for yourself. Some of the conversations I have gotten to have have been unexpectedly deep and meaningful and I love it.

Like Kimberly. Who just needs that extra push from a familiar face at the Y. Change is possible, you just need someone in your life to remind you. Side effect.

4 months, 5 miles, and 87 pounds

I just discovered running tights! Wow, this is a
great time to be alive I swear it.

I'm coming up on 4 months since my July 11th surgery date. I'm also coming up on week 6 of training for a little half marathon in March. Running certainly has changed the way I think and multiplied the ways I am thankful for daily life.

When I was 320 pounds in March, I certainly limited my life in so many ways. Being overweight and turning to food for comfort has been a physical barrier my whole life and has kept me from loving fully and being fully loved. Like any other addiction or replacement, food kept me isolated. As I gained weight and became bigger, my world became smaller. I took less chances, made less plans, and experienced less of life.

Don't get me wrong, if you know me, you know I have always been full of life. I have always been social and cared for people around me. But there was always a sense I could never fully be myself with that barrier separating me from the world. After all, how are we supposed to accept love fully when we don't fully love ourselves?

So here I am today at 231 pounds. 87 pounds down since March. And here I am this morning after running 5 miles. Running is a lifelong habit for some, but it has always been an unattainable goal to me, something I admired in others but never thought I could accomplish. I am following a specific training plan to prepare for the half in March, and this week I have run 15 miles. Every mile has been a reminder of where I have come from.

It is nice to be running towards something now, rather than running away from something. It is nice to be showing up rather than hiding. It is nice to be seeing the world in a bigger way rather than watching my world get smaller and smaller.

Today is November 4th. And I am thankful. For all the ways I am finding who I truly am. The person that was hiding behind the weight and can now be fully seen. Here's to the next 40 pounds!

Get out of your own head.

We were all just happy to have made it!

There are a lot of things that naturally thin people don't think about. And I am sure that several of those things are things that happened to me this past week.

For example, I was being interviewed at a meeting for my town commissioner work, and I showed up before the interview was to start. It was in a large auditorium. When I got there, I saw two high-top chairs for the interview. No big deal, right?

You see, high-top chairs are not a friend to those of us that struggle with weight. They are often flimsy, and relatively small, making us wonder if they will hold us for one, and if our backsides will actually fit on the seat. In the past, I have found these chairs so uncomfortable that I would avoid restaurants that had them as the only seating option. So to have that as my "perch" during a 60-minute interview gave me anxiety.

Another example is this: I went to a local ice cream shop with friends that used to be a very old fast food restaurant. The only seating is fixed booths. The last time I was there (about 10 months ago), I had to pull a stool over from the other side of the restaurant because I couldn't fit in the booth. I laughed it off at the time because I was with a group of people and you know, that's what you do. You laugh at yourself before someone else has the chance to laugh at you (classic elementary school survival technique).

And the third example that happened to me last night: I went to a haunted forest called Panic Point with a group of friends. I had never been there before but I heard that you walk through a lot of dark, tight spaces. How tight are these spaces? Will I be able to get through them? These haunted houses were designed for the average person. But not people like me. What do I do if I get stuck? How tight are we talking here?

I have pondered all three of these events this week and came to one conclusion: my brain has not yet caught up to my body.

Not only that, but I am reminded of perspective and the danger of getting into my own head too much. In my own head, I am still 320 pounds and can't sit on a high-top chair or fit in a restaurant booth or walk through your average haunted house. But when I have recounted those fears to a close friend, the reality is so much different. My friend reminds me I am 80 pounds lighter and running 12 miles a week and can fit on all the chairs, restaurant booths, and haunted houses that I want to.

So, I sat comfortably in that high-top chair. I fit confidently in that booth. And I walked like a scared puppy through those tight haunted houses. (Yes I fit! Yes it was still scary!)

While I am waiting for my brain to catch up to my body, I have learned to get out of my own head. Alone, I hear voices that just don't tell the truth. But with friends, I am reminded of who I really am. And that perspective is what will save us from ourselves.

It doesn't matter what you are battling. I just happen to be battling an obvious weight struggle. Other battles are more private and don't show on the surface like mine does. Each one of us has our thing. But I am telling you: don't battle alone. Lock arms with the ones that love you and fight.

Step one: get out of your own head.

75 pounds down!

Proud of my mileage. More proud of my sweatage.

So I went to a surgical follow-up last week with my doctor to make sure everything looked good. She asked about my eating and if I was able to start working out.

"Well, I am running a half-marathon in March and I've started training for that, so..."

To which she replied "Of COURSE you are!"

Even my doctor knows I don't do anything half-assed I guess.

As of this week, I am 75 pounds down from my pre-surgery weight when I started the process in April. It hasn't been easy physically or mentally, but day by day, I see progress that is pretty mind-blowing. I just got home from finishing a 3 mile run. This week, our official half-marathon training started. (shout out to everyone that is doing this race in March! You are all amazing humans.) I just looked at my training log and realized I ran 13 miles this week, which is the distance of a half-marathon.

Would the Liz of last year ever believe this was in my future? That's a big hell no. In fact, I had given up on my future in so many ways. Admitting I needed help in the form of weight loss surgery has made me realize how important it is to let people in. To let people in to my struggles, my embarrassments, my pain, my reality, my fears, all of it. Going to therapy and having surgical intervention and relying on my friends to take care of me hasn't been natural for me, but it's been necessary.

A blog can't describe what the past three months have taught me. When I made the decision to get healthy, my world opened up in every way. God has shown me love through people like I never thought possible. And If I had remained hidden behind my weight and my complacency, I would never have received the joy I am receiving now from so many wonderful people around me (and if you're reading this...you're most likely one of those wonderful people).

So if you need any word of encouragement today it would be this: don't settle. Know what you're worth and believe you deserve it all. You were created by God and God doesn't make mistakes.

(my other word of wisdom: Kesha is a GREAT running soundtrack. Just saying.)

Am I going to fit?

How many times does this ride go
upside down?

When you've been overweight as long as you can remember like I have, you never really forget that the world isn't really made for you.

As of today, I am down 67 pounds. I am fitting into the smallest stuff I own, and have pretty much gotten rid of all my old clothes. I even ordered some pants from The Gap and they fit. When I hold them in my hands, I think they are someone else's pants. When I put them on, I think there is no way they will fit. But they do. And I still can't believe it.

But the big win for the week for me was conquering that roller coaster fear. The last time I did this was in 2012. Pretty soon after that, I injured my back, and that started the surgeries that derailed me and contributed to me gaining about 70 pounds back over the course of a few years.

So here we are, in 2018, and my best friend Julie (who loves roller coasters) invited me to go to Howl-A-Scream with a group to Busch Gardens. I remember saying yes a few months ago thinking "oh it's a few months away, sure I'll go! Last time I rode a roller coaster in 2012 I got nauseous all day, but I'm sure I''ll be fine!"

Saturday arrived, and we approached the first ride called Apollo's Chariot. No upside down or backwards, no problem. Except one problem. Will I fit into the roller coaster seat? If you're naturally thin, you've never thought about this. But when you struggle with weight your whole life like me, you wonder about the airplane seat. And the restaurant booth. And the roller coaster seat. I even remember as a middle schooler, waiting in line for a ride at Hershey Park and getting to the front only to find I couldn't fit into it, and having to slink off to the exit. As a middle school girl. Humiliating.

I guess it's become enough of an issue that, thankfully, theme parks now have a "tester" seat at the front of some of their

rides. These tester seats are for "larger park guests" that don't want to be humiliated after waiting in line and then not fitting.

So Julie and I got up to the ride, saw the tester seat, and I turned to her in a panic and said "What if I get to the front of the line and I can't fit in the seat?" And THIS is why we need good friends. She looked at me almost shocked and said "You will never have to worry about that again."

So I sat in the seat. And I fit. And I realized my brain has yet to catch up to my body. I still see myself as I was at 320 pounds, not fitting in, and being scared of new adventures where I can't control my environment. And the roller coaster? Terrifying.

We moved on to the next ride called Da Vinci's Cradle and it had a seatbelt in the seat. Which fit around my waist, and I was shocked. And then there was a bar that was supposed to latch down over you. I grabbed the bar and it wouldn't latch. I turned to my friend Julie, again, and had a panicked look on my face like "I'm too big for this ride" and right when I thought that, realized that the staff hadn't yet locked it down on the whole ride. It had nothing to do with me. Again, my brain couldn't believe I could fit, and I had that panicked look on my face that I had been used to my whole life: "I am too big to fit."

Shout out to Da Vinci's Cradle. The
motion sickness was too real.

The fun plot twist of the day is that motion sickness doesn't get better as you age, it gets a LOT worse. So I spent half the day on dramamine trying to recover from Da Vinci's Cradle (which goes backwards waaaaaay too much) and another coaster called Verbolten that takes you into complete darkness and scrambled my stomach beyond repair. But, once the dramamine kicked in, I ended the day again on Apollo's Chariot because I needed to end on a high note, not a pukey one.

The moral of my Busch Gardens story? Trust your friends. I see that theme in my life a lot lately. I am the queen of getting into my own head too much. Trust your friends. When you overthink something and are inconsolable, trust your friends. Find that one or two people that you trust, and let them in fully. Don't be afraid to get hurt. You will get hurt. Because people hurt each other. But the best friends are the ones that stay with us through the pain. And talk it out. And ask forgiveness. And accept your forgiveness.

Trust your friends. They know where you fit. And where you belong.

I can't thank this patient group enough (l to r: Melanie,
Julie, Aaron, motion sickness girl, and Amy)

Standing still is moving backwards.

Picture on the left is from last week, fitting into the
"skinniest" jacket I have. Picture on the right is from
March. Sometimes it's hard to see progress when
you're in the midst of it!

I am about two months out from surgery, and I am feeling pretty great. When I found out my surgery date, I was in a facebook group with other duodenal switch patients, and we started a smaller facebook group message for those of us having surgery the same week. There are about 12 of us on the group message.

It has been great to be a part of that group...we have messaged each other about different phases of the process, the pre-op diet and the post-op diet, different foods to try and to avoid, and all the emotional stuff in between.

About two weeks ago, a lady in the group said she was really struggling and going back to old habits. She said she found herself in McDonald's eating a Big Mac and large fries. Even as she got the physical pain that comes with this surgery when you overeat or eat stuff you shouldn't, she powered through and finished her meal, because, that's part of the food addiction we all have. And when she got home, she was sick. VERY sick. for almost 24 hours.

When I read this I thought... "you did WHAT? WHERE?" I can barely keep down 500 calories of protein shakes right now. And my second thought was..."careful, Liz. Be careful."

It is so easy for me to judge. It is easy to say "I would NEVER do that." The last time I lost 80 pounds, I swore up and down it would never come back. And one bad food decision led to another, led to a back surgery, led to lack of exercise, led to overeating and on and on and on.

The truth is, if I stand still, I will move backwards. If nothing changes, nothing changes. So I am paying attention to every day. I am making choices for my health and for my life. I have had moments where I have eaten too much, but I have to listen to my body. And days where I just don't want to go work out, but I know my body needs to move.

None of us are promised tomorrow. And for me, tomorrow overwhelms me. So I am doing what I can today and living today the best way that I can. This is the part of the journey that has nothing to do with weight loss, but everything to do with believing I deserve better. We all do!

You just have to go through it.

Last night I went through my closet to start getting rid of clothes that no longer fit. I tried on almost everything I had before putting it aside for Goodwill. I thought about events I wore certain clothes to. I thought about how long I had certain outfits, the friends I was with when I wore them, and how I have kept things for so long because they were too small and I now hoped I could fit into them. And here I was, missing that window, and now passing those clothes on to someone else.





I dreaded going through my closet. I'm not exactly sure why. I wanted to keep the door shut and not go through it. But when I woke up this

morning, I realized why I was so afraid to go through it: 

What if I gain all the weight back and need those clothes again?

I have been through this before. About 5 years ago, I lost 80 pounds. Then, due to a long struggle with a back injury, I had two back surgeries within two years and gained almost all the weight back. At my smallest, I gave all my clothes away, and swore I would never gain the weight back. Then I did.

That's part of the reason I sought surgical help to lose the weight and keep it off. I couldn't do it alone. And as the weight is coming off, there is still that fear that one day, it will come back on again. The fear is not logical, but that small voice is always there.

It is easier to go around things than go through them. It is easier for me to keep my closet door shut and not face the past, or fear the future. But easier is not better. I just have to go through it. When faced with pain, we have that fight or flight reaction which can be visceral and subconscious. But, I am practicing the art of being present, to let others into this struggle with me. I am choosing to fight. To go through it and not around it.

So, I am taking these clothes to Goodwill. And I am staring at an empty closet. But as a wise friend told me, this is not a phase. This is a beginning. I am finding so much value in living in this moment, and not worrying about tomorrow. We just have to go through it. Not around it.

"You are f**king worthy!"

A sign from my friend's classroom. Kids need to hear this.
So do we.

So I am two weeks out of surgery. My days are pretty basic right now. I have a few regimens I have to keep. I take 10 vitamins a day at very specific times. I have to find a way to get at least 80 grams of protein in and 100 ounces of water. No sugar, and no carbs. That is more challenging than it seems since I can't chug water or eat anything quickly. I eat with a baby spoon and it takes me about 30 minutes to try and eat an egg. But good news! I can eat an egg!

One of my favorite basic things right now is walking with friends. I have had great walks with great friends almost every day. Our bodies want to move, it's part of recovery. Most of these walks turn to deep conversation quickly, which I LOVE. Because let's be real...that's what matters most.

My friend and I were talking about life and love and how we settle for second best so much in life. We talked about this idea that people use love as currency. I will only give you as much love as you will give me, I will spend love like money, and I will withhold love like money. Why do we do that?

I think that all of us, in different seasons, have settled because we don't think we deserve more. That someone, somehow along the way, has put something in our heads to make us believe we don't deserve everything. I know I have. For years and years and years.  So instead of working through pain, I would stuff it down with food. Instead of reaching out to others, I would reach into a drive-thru window.

It's amazing what happens when the thing I used to always turn to for comfort, is no longer an option. I used to live to eat. Truly. Now, I am struggling to eat to live. Protein shakes are keeping me alive. And I am finding so much more comfort from people in my life. More than I ever dreamed I would. And that would not have happened if I didn't let go of the comfort I was seeking in food.

Let's not waste anymore time. Let's stop keeping a record of wrongs and start trusting each other. Let's spend love without caring about how much we get back. At the end of my walk on Tuesday, and our conversation around this, my friend declared "You are f**king worthy!" She is so right. We all are.

We all are.

When the boat splits from the dock.

When I was in high school, I worked at a young life camp in New York called Lake Champion. I was there volunteering for 5 weeks, and it was the best summer of my life for all the reasons. One of those transformational experiences that every 17 year old needs and longs for.

I worked in the kitchen, and on a break one day I went on a little boat ride across the lake with one of my staff friends. We got back to the dock so I could go back to work. Right at that time, all of the kids were getting out of club (which is like a big assembly) and about 500 of them were walking along the waterfront. 

I got up to hop out of the boat. I put one foot on the dock, and kept one foot in the boat. And I hesitated. I hesitated just long enough to look down and watch in slow motion terror as the boat split from the dock. And my legs split from each other. And the windmill arms started, and I took a swim.

I took a swim wearing jeans and kitchen gear (complete with apron). Have you ever tried to gracefully emerge from lake water in jeans and an apron? Don't.

The best part as I shimmied myself up onto the dock was the silence from 500 high schoolers on the waterfront. But then, the impending applause and general laughter at the balancing act they just got to see. To this day, watching windmill arms when someone's falling is one of my favorite things. Because when have windmill arms ever saved you from falling?!

The morale of the story? Don't hesitate. When you need to jump, jump. Don't waffle between where you were and where you're going. I am finding it so scary to navigate this new life that is revealing itself to me, because I don't trust it yet. I still think I will be the one medical anomaly for whom duodenal switch surgery doesn't work for. Even though I have lost 39 pounds since I started the program (and that's down 20 pounds since July 11th surgery date), I still can't picture what's to come as the scale continues to go down. And I still can't believe it's going to work, because I have lost weight before and then watched it come back.

The boat left the dock for me on July 11th. The good news is that I was safely drugged up on the dock when the boat left. I didn't have a choice to stay in it. Now I get to explore this new land that the dock is connected to.

Shed the pounds, shed the tears.

This is the bench on White Street in
downtown Wake Forest that has hosted
many life changing conversations for me.
Today was no different. And Georgie was
there to supervise, as usual!

I ventured out of the house this morning to sit with a friend in downtown Wake Forest. It was a game changer, for a lot of reasons.

I think having weight loss surgery has opened me up to a lot more self-reflection than I was anticipating. And as I am watching the scale go down, I am feeling things welling up within me.

Shed the pounds, shed the tears.

My friend this morning challenged me to put myself out there more. And I will. What I might need to explain is that, I have used my weight as a physical barrier from the world. So as that barrier is bound to come down completely in the next few months, I anticipate being exposed to the world more than ever. I also anticipate being open to the world more than ever.

And that's the goal.

We all have our vices, and some of us have our addictions. My addiction isn't drugs or alcohol, but food. And I have the unlucky benefit of wearing my addiction for the world to see. Sometimes I wish I had a more secret issue that is hidden away from the world. But the weight issue, for me, has been a banner I have carried, and will carry in order to help other people if I can.

So for those of us hiding ourselves from the world...let's stop. Because I know for sure that the world needs the parts of ourselves we are most afraid to show. The vulnerable, scared side. It took a conversation on a bench on White Street this morning for me to realize that. And, it takes the love of a friend to recognize and encourage that in us.

"If you weren't afraid of being yourself to people, how would that change the world?"

XO

It's not brain surgery.

You may have won the battle, Oikos, but you
will not win the war.

I must admit, it is jarring to go from a rather hectic life of working at the YMCA (which is pretty much a 24-7 job) and being a town commissioner (which is pretty much a 24-7 job) to a life of trying to drink 8 ounces of water and keep down yogurt.

My nausea subsided yesterday, thank God! My goal yesterday was stay hydrated, and try to get in 80-100 grams of protein. It took me two hours to eat a yogurt. And I didn't come close to getting in my protein goal. But I am taking it slow and trying not to overdue it. The littlest things wear me out. I did laundry and took a shower and I felt like I had run a marathon.

But the most interesting thing I have found it how my brain is still thinking about food. It doesn't help that most commercials are about food. And not just food...how happy people are when they can eat bottomless fries and giant burgers with onion straws and mountains of cheese cake and unlimited salad and breadsticks (yes, I am talking to you, Red Robin and Olive Garden). It is surprising that those images don't nauseate me. They actually make me hungry. And a little bit sad.

But that's because my doctor operated on my gut, not my brain. My brain still wants to live like an overeater. In fact, my brain still thinks that I can. And that's the trickiest thing about the next few weeks...to focus on eating to live, not living to eat.

My kind neighbor wanted to help me and bring food over, but she stopped herself and we both laughed at how food is love. When people are sick, we bring them food. When there is a wedding, we eat cake. When there is a funeral, we bring casseroles.

One of my co-workers stopped himself when he said he wanted to set up a meal chain for me while I was out. Again, we both recognized that food is how we show love. It is so difficult to retrain our brains to think about NOT turning to food in crisis, emotions, celebrations, and social outings.

I'll let you know when I figure that one out. For today, I am focusing on conquering that greek yogurt.  And taking life one small baby spoon bite at a time. (no seriously...I had to buy baby spoons at Target...)

"What kind of surgery are you having?"

What a harmless question, right?

Until you ask it of someone like me who is a bit ashamed of resorting to weight loss surgery to get healthy.

The process through insurance has been over a year for me. There are requirements that insurance needs to approve the duodenal switch surgery. For those of you thinking of weight loss surgery, here is what I have had to go through:

1. Primary care doctor visits documenting weight concerns for over a year.
2. Initial orientation with a team of nutritionists.
3. Weigh ins.
4. A sleep study.
5. A psychiatric evaluation.
6. Weigh ins.
7. Protein seminars.
8. Bariatric surgery consults.
9. Weigh ins.
10. Endoscopy and colonoscopy.
11. Hospital consultation.
12. Blood work.
13. More blood work.
14. Did I mention weigh-ins?

Don't get me wrong. I am thankful for the process because of one thing: they are operating on my digestive system, not my brain. My brain has to be ready for the change. The process has given me lots of time to process and thoughtfully consider what I am about to do.

This is known as the "DS" or, duodenal switch. It is
now considered the most effective surgery to
lose the weight and keep it off.

But it doesn't mean the insecurity and fear of judgment goes away. When I lost 75 pounds a few years ago, it was with blood, sweat, and tears. Lots of tears. At my lowest weight, I ended up needing lower back surgery. About two years after that, I needed upper back surgery. I was working out over an hour a day, 6 days a week rather faithfully. But I just couldn't get a handle on the eating. I allowed myself too many "cheat meals" and we all know, those turn into "cheat days" and "cheat weekends." And when you can't work out due to injury...you sit around a lot. And eat.

Want to know what's worse than being overweight? Losing 75 pounds and gaining it all back.

While some say surgery is the easy way out (and yes, I have heard this from well-meaning people), I must say, now that I am living in it and on day three of my liquid diet prep...it most certainly is not easy. And if I hadn't of had the year long preparation, I don't think my brain would be ready.

We have five days to go. And I apologize in advance to all of you that will be around me between now and Wednesday. Because I am perpetually hangry. Forgive me?

The life of a prepper

Shout out to Bariatric Advantage and Celebrate vitamins.

I was going to entitle this "The life of a doomsday prepper" but what I have coming up isn't doomsday, it's more like a birthday. Except much more painful and filled with vitamins.

Speaking of vitamins, someone asked about the regimen, so here it is. 5 times a day I am taking a chewable vitamin of some sort, because that's what my new body can absorb. Because I am such a prepper, I have already organized them into easy doses to make sure I don't miss a beat. Vitamins are crucial in recovery since I won't be able to take in a lot of food nutrition.

And here's what the fridge looks like. Day one of the liquid diet prep is today. Duodenal switch surgery is July 11th. And a warning if you have to interact with me this week: I will be hangry pretty much all week. So I apologize in advance for what I might do or say.

For those of you looking for protein shake recommendations, I really can't say enough good things about Premier Protein. I have tried a LOT of options for protein in my life, and this is really the bariatric standard. 160 calories, 30 grams of protein, and 1 gram of sugar. You can find them at Walmart and Sams Club and they have a great variety of flavors. Peach and cookies and cream are my favorites.

I keep hearing that your taste buds completely change after surgery, but I am hoping I can still tolerate the shakes afterwards. They have been a lifeline for me, truly.

Cheers to day one!

Nobody blogs from the valley

A few years ago, I lost 80 pounds. Rather publicly because I shared the journey and had a ton of accountability and it was amazing. A time worth blogging about.

Since then, sidelined by two back surgeries and a general loss of willpower and interest, I have gained back most of the wait. Rather quietly because I didn't share that journey and it was terrible. A time that no one blogs about because nobody blogs from the valley.

But guys great news! I have stopped the slide into complacency and I made a choice exactly seven days ago to focus on my health again. Walking out of the valley isn't going to be easy but I am no longer willing to stay there.

What happened seven days ago that clicked? Several things collided but one thing in particular is worth sharing. My friend reminded me of a show called "My 600lb Life." If you haven't seen it, it's on TLC and it shares a year in the life of someone who is trying to get their life back with weight loss surgery.

This show is extreme. People who let themselves reach that weight have lived extreme circumstances and cope with food in extreme ways. But I saw myself in those weight loss surgery patients. None of them ever thought they would weigh 600 pounds. They never stopped the slide into complacency.

The other great thing about the show is that it dives deep into the emotional and psychological reasons that we use food as a coping mechanism. Food has always been my drug of choice and I saw myself in all the conversations patients were having on this show.

Sharing the struggle is part of what will make me successful. The struggle is also the reason most of us stay quiet. I have really debated whether or not to start blogging again. There certainly is some embarrassment that I am not where I was. But if you know me, you know that I LOVE to embarrass my friends in public so it's time to let that embarrassment go and choose to be honest.

And if I can be ok with public embarrassment, maybe my friends will follow?