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!