Surgery is not the way to go ... at least not for me

There was a time in my life I weighed 141 pounds and wore a size six. It was a glorious eight months, perhaps the best-looking eight months of my life. Then, as I got comfortable with my new body (because believe me, I had to work very hard to get to that point), I started skipping workouts and eating more fast food and slowly the weight crept back on.

Then my life went to hell and it all of those pounds just decided “We don’t want you to be lonely while you’re going through hell, so we all got back together and wanted to keep you company through these hard times. Come on, group hug!” It was so nice of them, really.

What’s funny is that you don’t realize the weight creep at first. You figure you’re bloated, so you pull out that one pair of fat jeans you kept (my general rule was that I kept one pair of pants from the last size up, just in case) and then you find yourself going for those all the time. You pick up “just one more” because they’re on sale. You find yourself wearing that bigger size more often than not. Then those start getting snug. At this point, you’ve forgotten all about dieting, there are more important and/or stressful things going on in your life, and all you care about is having pants that fit. So you buy the next size up. And so the cycle continues. When you look back a year later, you’re four or six sizes bigger than you were and you wonder what the hell happened.

Sure, I can blame the pitfalls in my life. That’s part of it. But it’s actually how I choose to handle those pitfalls. I mean, yeah, when I was in grad school, more often than not, dinner was from a drive-thru on the way to class from work. I could have made better choices. I could have packed a meal. I could have done a lot of things. But I didn’t. I only have myself to blame.

Now, I could go looking for the quick fix. I could look into bariatric surgery. If I’m not mistaken, given the new BMI requirements, I definitely fit the new criteria. I don’t want to do that. I don’t want the quick fix. The weight didn’t pile on overnight, it’s not going to come off overnight. I worked hard shoveling cakes, pies and chocolates into my mouth, now it’s time to work hard walking off those cakes, pies and chocolate.

Let’s get this straight, I’m not against bariatric surgery for those who really need it. There are those people out there who cannot exercise, or for whom diet and exercise don’t work. That is the group this surgery should be used as a LAST RESORT option.

Problem is, that’s not how it’s working these days. People are thinking it’s their only option. There are reports of people who were specifically gaining weight so they hit the higher BMI so they could have bariatric surgery. I do not want to be stick thin enough to gamble with my health like that. If a doctor is aware you are doing that to yourself, then that doctor should put the brakes on the surgery, right then and there. (But, you know, that’s just my opinion.)

There are a lot of risks. It’s not like you go into that surgery and come out with a Lap-Band© in place and are instantly thin. No, anyone who has bariatric surgery has to completely alter their diet and add exercise in order to lose the weight. Which, hey, I can do that without having to spend $20,000 on a surgery that alters the way God created my digestive system.

Furthermore, it’s a known fact you *will* lose hair after bariatric surgery. WHAT THE HELL??? Why is this? You’re performing surgery on my stomach, not my hair follicles. Nope.

How about the fact that teenagers who get this surgery have now been proven to suffer from bone loss later in life? Like the risk of osteoporosis isn’t high enough, let’s have a surgery and add to it. 

Alright, what about the positives, I’ll do due diligence. Of course, there’s the obvious, most patients will lose weight, they will lead healthier lifestyles and diabetes and high cholesterol will be controlled much better, if not eliminated. "Patients who are morbidly obese already face great health risks and bariatric surgery can be a life-saving option," said Prateek K. Gupta, MD. That’s important, but let’s also remember, the same thing can be said of people who lose large amounts of weight the old-fashioned way too. It’s not really that revolutionary. The weight (or lack thereof) is what helps with those problems, not the surgery itself. 

There’s even a study out there that said migraines are decreased in patients who have had bariatric surgery. This is not rocket science. When I was lighter, I got fewer migraines and the ones I did get weren’t as bad.

What’s even scarier to me is the research that the surgery can lead to greater complications, with one study showing 60 percent of patients back on the operating table after bariatric surgery to handle some sort of complication. Umm, no thank you. 

It also worries me that there are tons of articles out there about how you need to prevent weight gain after bariatric surgery, or even how to lose weight after you’ve gained it back. Obviously, if the articles are out there, this is a common phenomenon.

It boils down to this: As long as I am physically able to control my weight the old-fashioned, tried-and-true way, I will. In this world of always wanting a quick fix, how many different times and different ways have we been shown this is not always the best and/or safest option? Furthermore, I’m disturbed by the message this sends to our kids. “A third of the population is overweight, but you can just have a surgery to fix that, so go ahead and shove that Big Mac down your throat.” No, I’m not the pot calling the kettle black – I’m fully aware of the consequences of some of the things I eat because they taste good. But the message we’re sending to our kids is eliminating that level of responsibility for actions.

I know plenty of people who have had the surgery, even some family members. Some of them have lost an amazing amount of weight. Some haven’t. Some did just to gain it back. I’m not bashing people who have had it done, I’m just saying that its prevalence is not setting a good example for anyone – it’s just padding the pockets of the manufacturer of Lap-Band, bariatric surgeons, and fast-food joints.

The question is, will I ever see the me that was a size six again? Most likely not, after all, I’ve had a kid since then. But I can re-learn how to make better decisions to improve my health, and I can learn to love the person I am. That is the hardest part for me. Even when I was a size six, I didn’t love the person I was. In fact, I looked in the mirror and saw someone who was50 pounds heavier, and I’m pretty sure I always will.

While I’m at it, I want to send a shout out to my buddy Jennifer who is going the old-fashioned route and has lost 30 pounds in three months! Woohoo! You go girl. You are going to weigh the same as me before too long!

I’ve only been back on the dieting wagon hard-core for about a week, so I don’t have a number yet since I have vowed to only count the number I see on Fat Ass Friday mornings. It won’t be 30. Maybe only a tenth of it. We all gotta (re)start somewhere, right?

The voices in my head

How disturbing is that????

If you have ever dieted, you know exactly where I’m coming from here. There are two people in your head, duking it out for dominance.

Maybe not so soon ... but coming. Again. It'll be like
the fifth anniversary re-release!

The fat you who lives for indulgence

The skinny you longing to get out

Sometimes the battles that go on are quite humorous. Enter yesterday…

I had a GREAT day eating. I mean, fantastic. I even went out and walked at lunch. Woohoo me. I finished all 64 ounces of water before I left work. Winning!

Then I got home and my stomach was rumbling, like, a magnitude 7.4 earthquake going on in there. I was HUNGRY.

I grabbed a handful of jelly beans when I took some painkillers (allergy headaches), but I know Jelly Bellys are only four calories apiece, so I figured I only had about 100 calories, so I hadn’t hurt myself too badly.

I started dinner, gourmet though it was – turkey hot dogs and multi-grain buns. Woohoo. But was still hungry. I had a snack-sized bag of Cheez-Its that I decided to down. Why not? How much could it hurt?

Then I decided it would be fun to make macaroni and cheese with hot dogs. After all, what goes better with hot dogs? And besides, it’s organic. Organic means it HAS to be good for you, right??? (LOL)

After my two turkey dogs, and little bit of macaroni, the guilt was consuming me. Here comes the fat person: “God you suck. I don’t know why you even try. You might as well just go get a Blizzard, you blew your day. Enjoy the rest of it.”

Skinny person jumps up and punches fat me in the face. “Oh, hush, even with the snacking, you didn’t go over 2000 calories. Not the best day, but way better than when you’re not watching what you’re eating.”

We went out to Kohl’s on the search for shoes (that was fruitless – I found cute shoes, but not the cute shoes I specifically went to Kohl’s for), and I was very thirsty. So I went to Starbucks. Fat me wanted a Passion Tea Lemonade. Skinny me told her to hush it and ordered a black tea with Sweet N Low. Woot!

We drive right on by the Dairy Queen on the way home. I don’t even suggest stopping for ice cream. (Skinny me is kicking ass and taking names.)

Okay, don’t get too excited.

It took about two hours to get Munchkin to sleep (argh!) and then I goofed around on Facebook and then, come 11:30, we decided to watch the putrid movie Netflix sent that was “The Tooth Fairy.” (I put it in the queue as a joke, because Scott likes “The Rock,” but I have to admit, even though I actually liked “The Game Plan,” this one was horrible.) As soon as the movie started, I knew I was hungry. Skinny me tried to shut the hungries up. Unfortunately that didn’t last the whole movie.

I went to go get some Goldfish. I love the fishes cause they’re so delicious. This is where skinny me had a big fat fail.

Did I measure out a single serving of Goldfish? Of course not.

Did I put the Goldfish in a separate container instead of eating out of the bag? Of course not.

I proceeded to stuff my face with Goldfish until I looked down, and at least (if not more than) half the bag was gone. (Goldfish in my house always equals a big fat fail for me. But I have a toddler, so they are always in my house. Losing.)

Skinny me is cowering in the corner from where fat me kicked her ass (probably with a Goldfish). Fat me is happy and content “You’ll never see skinny again, you are so worthless.  I don’t know why you try. Just eat what you enjoy and be happy with me.”

I go to bed.

I wake up this morning and have this feeling of, “Well, I blew yesterday, I might as well just eat whatever the hell I want to. But no, before I can even think, I ask Scott to make up one of my breakfast Smart Ones in the freezer. Woot.

Then, fat me tells me to get on the scale to see the damage I did yesterday. But I refuse. “No, I only get on the scale on Fat-Ass Fridays from now on.”

Look at that, Skinny me came out fighting this morning. You go girl.

Nothing's fair in love or weight loss

Anyone who has ever lost weight, or wanted to lose weight, knows it’s a pain in the butt. (And abs, and arms, and thighs …) Furthermore, it’s about the most unjust thing in the entire world. Below, some observations made in my many trials with losing weight.

You ever notice you get on the scale every day, see a nice, steady decrease, life is good. You’re eating well, you’re exercising, all is right in the world. Then one day you get on and the number didn’t go down – in fact, it went up. But, but, you’re doing everything right, what gives? It’s frustrating. Trying to remember that you are not defined by a number when you’re trying to make those numbers decrease is a very hard thing to do. Trying to remember that you’re building muscle which will help you in the long run, is hard to swallow when you just want to see that number go down.

Side note – science content – Muscle DOES NOT weigh more than fat. It’s like the old riddle: which weighs more – a ton of feathers or a ton of bricks? Both are a ton. If you have five pounds of muscle and five pound of fat, you still have five pounds. The difference is that muscles are more tightly compacted, so you’ll have five pounds of muscle in a smaller area than you will five pounds of fat.

How about this one? Your husband loses weight faster than you do. What the hell? And he’s not even trying. Where’s the justice? Why does it have to be so hard for a woman to lose weight? Metabolism and biology blow.

Not all diets are created equal – and what works for one person won’t work for you. Honestly, only one diet plan has ever worked for me. It’s called 8 Minutes in the Morning (the newer version is called The Three Hour Diet), authored by Jorge Cruise. It’s a shame he sold his soul to the devil – to the point he has a bunch of books and is even doing a mail-order food business a la Jenny Craig and NutriSystem. Regardless of how I feel about the state of his soul, I know it works. But let’s take a look at some of the things that haven’t …

WW fail in 3 ... 2 ...

• NutriSystem – yep, I blew $300 for a month’s worth of food. Thought it was pre-portioned, it made my life easier. (Especially since I was in grad school at the time.) Um, no. It tasted like the cardboard it came in (in fact, the cardboard might have tasted better), and the portions weren’t even enough to satisfy my two-year-old, let alone a fully-grown adult. Hunger leads to binge, binge leads  to weight gain, weight gain leads to failure, failure leads to depression, depression leads to not wanting to see those damn pre-packaged meals again so they got tossed.
• Weight Watchers – I have gone to and from Weight Watchers for years. The Points system isn’t that bad. Except for that turning everything you eat into nothing more than a number. “Oh no, I can’t have that banana, it’s too many points!” (The new plan, it’s free, I know.) “OMG, I just ate five M&Ms, someone, quick, let’s do the math to figure out what percentage of the package that is so I can figure out how many Points they are.” Or even worse, my friend Meredith C.’s mentality: “If I eat nothing but asparagus all day, I can have a Blizzard.”
• South Beach – This actually works well in the first two weeks. It also turns me into the biggest bitch on the planet. Scott has actually put his foot down and said no more deprivation diets, particularly carb deprivation diets, because he doesn’t want to deal with me on them. As if my insomnia wasn’t bad enough, when I don’t eat enough carbs, it’s damn near impossible for me to sleep. No lie, I was doing the South Beach thing with a friend, and I cracked because I couldn’t sleep – I ate some crackers (okay, a whole sleeve), and I fell asleep almost instantly. That night those crackers were better than Ambien.
• Sparkpeople – I love Sparkpeople. There are a lot of great resources on there. I just have to be very careful tracking my food to make sure I don’t turn into crazy food-is-nothing-but-numbers mode. I’ve been tracking my food the last few days and I’m proud to say I haven’t done that. Yet. So far. It’ll come.

Oh, I love how this one works … the more you exercise, the more hungry you are. So you end up eating more, and you feel awful because you blew your calorie/point limit for the day. Once you blow it, you feel bad about yourself, and keep going into that downward spiral. It sort of ticks me off too … my body is saying “hey, hey, I need more food cause you’re working me so hard.” My brain is saying, “hey, hey, there’s plenty around the mid-section… eat that all gone and then we’ll talk, okay?”
 
Deprivation leads to binging. False. I deprive myself of broccoli all the time, and I do not later binge on it. I deprive myself of tofu every day. I do not go on a tofu bender on the weekends. Let’s be honest. Deprivation of great-tasting food leads to binging. There’s a reason for that. You only want it because it’s good (and most likely because it’s not good for you). No one has ever said, “I’m going to hell with myself today, I’m going to eat a huge bowl of cauliflower.” It just doesn’t work that way. So, yeah, deprivation of yummy stuff leads to binging, not deprivation in general.

If starvation doesn’t work, why are anorexics so thin?

Along those lines, I like my teeth – and despise puking – too much to be bulimic.

You ever realize that when you’re dieting, it goes one of two ways …

1. No one around you is dieting, so they are eating nothing but calorie-laden goodies and making that little sugar-monster who lives in the pit of your stomach go apeshit?
2. Everyone else around you is dieting, but they are all having way more success than you are, despite your best efforts? Yeah, well, screw you too.

You ever notice that when you fail at dieting you have this conversation with yourself? “Well, you screwed it up again. Go ahead, enjoy that Quarter Pounder, large fry, Coke, and caramel sundae. Because, you know what, you’re not as big as that woman over there. Don’t beat yourself up too much. As long as you don’t look like that, you’re okay.” God, I have had that conversation so many times. So much so, I’m quite surprised no one has had me committed for having full conversations with the voices in my head.

If you drink your eight-mandated glasses of water (which, by the way, it’s 2:14 p.m. and I’ve already completed that requirement), you end up running to the bathroom every thirty minutes. Someone needs to track how many calories that constant bathroom run is and market that as the  water diet.

The water thing brings up an interesting point … differing diets have differing numbers on the water intake. My precious 8MM diet dictates eight glasses a day, and one extra glass of water for every glass of caffeinated drink. But the old WW program only mandated six glasses of water, and then you could have two glasses of whatever you wanted so long as it wasn’t caffeinated. The new WW program only mandates six glasses of liquid – your liquid could be water, coffee, soda, milk, juice, or gasoline. So long as it’s liquid, it counts. For the love of God, can’t we all just agree on something? Even if there are some days where it’s hard to choke down eight glasses of anything, it was nice to know this was something they all agreed on. Apparently not anymore. Thanks for screwing that up WW.

Why can’t things I enjoy doing, like texting or updating my Facebook status (or blogging!) burn calories? Don’t get all smart and tell me the typing burns a calorie or two. Not what I meant. Why couldn’t updating my Facebook status give me a calorie burn like I just jogged for 15 minutes? I’d be updating my status more times a day than Charlie Sheen calls people trolls.

Why is it you can’t do some exercises because of being self-conscious? Here’s what I mean … I’m shackled to a desk a good portion of the day. I fidget and kick my feet and all – but a lot of those “office” workouts include taking a five-minute break to shadow box or do jumping jacks. Um, do you know what a fool I’d look like doing jumping jacks in my cube? Shoot, I don’t even think my cube is big enough for that. One of the girls here doesn’t use an office chair, she uses an exercise ball – do I make fun of her? Yes, yes I do. Is she super-skinny? Yes, yes she is. She claims the ball is because she slouches in a chair and this forces her to keep better posture. Still, even if that’s the truth, you aren’t going to see me giving up my chair for a ball, because I don’t want to a) answer questions b) deal with the ridicule or c) make her think she’s cool for that.

Note to WW.. Jennifer Hudson is NOT as good a spokesperson as the Hungry. Sorry. Marketing fail.

There is nothing worse than having this pair of pants you are desperately trying to fit into. You lose weight, the scale numbers are going down quite nicely. The stuff you’re wearing is getting looser. Woohoo! You figure, “Alright, I’ve got to fit in those pants now.” You can’t even pull them up past your thighs, it’s like you didn’t lose any weight at all. (Believe me, there’s a pair of jeans in my closet like this right now. They are mocking me. Mocking me, I tell you. What’s worse, they are the SAME SIZE as the pants I’m wearing now. At least that’s what the tag says, though I’m having my doubts. Screw you skinny jeans.)

You’re losing weight, you’re feeling great. You can take on the world. You can climb Mt. Everest. So you decide to tackle something new, you know, like jogging. You feel like you’re about to keel over and have a heart attack 30 seconds in. Depression sets in. You drag your ass home and sit on the couch and proceed to do arm lifts instead – lifting the spoon from the Ben & Jerry’s carton to your mouth and back again. Thus the cycle continues.

It is NOT okay to be inspired by the weight loss of celebrities and/or the people on The Biggest Loser. They have trainers. You don't. They have time to devote hours to a workout. You don't. Do not compare yourself to them, or you'll find yourself back on your couch doing the Ben & Jerry's spoon lift again.

Dieting is the only time in your life when it’s actually a good thing to be a loser. Well, that and if you’re on Glee.