Goal!

Webster defines a goal as the “terminal point of a race,” or the “end toward which effort is directed.” Webster makes it sound like when we reach a goal, we have arrived at a conclusion. Well, far be it for me to contradict Noah Webster, but I disagree. A goal is not an ending, but rather a point of transition. A moment at which we are free to shift our efforts to encompass greater achievement and success.

The truth is, we all set goals. Sometimes intentionally…other times accidentally. Imagine for a moment the six-month-old who sees his favorite toy just a few feet away, resting at his father’s feet. He stretches his tiny arm, attempting to reach it, but cannot. He cries, drawing his father’s attention, and points at the toy. His father then bends to the floor, scoops up the object, and gives it to his son. Satisfaction! But what about the day when his father is not in the room? There is no one to pass him the toy. On that day, the frustrated child will realize that if he coordinates the movement of his arms and legs in a certain way, he will be able to get exactly what he wants. Without knowing what he’s doing, he’s crawling. And in that moment, he reaches both his toy and a major milestone in child development. Is that the end of the little boy’s journey? Of course not. Six months later, he’ll push himself onto the soles of his feet and realize that with greater coordination, he’ll be able to get to that toy even faster. On that day, he’ll be walking.

On January 25, 2010 – the day I started my two-week, preoperative liquid diet – I set several goals. They were major and there was nothing accidental about them. I promised myself that no matter how difficult things got, I would take full advantage of my surgery so that I could obtain health. I would follow the rules so that when all was said and done, when I looked at myself in the mirror, I would know that I had not wasted my blessing. After speaking with the nutritionist about what my actual target weight should be, we settled on 175 pounds – my estimation of what my weight was when I started high school. If you know me personally, and know that I’m about 5’2’’, 175 pounds may sound extremely heavy. Well…here’s what it looks like:

Not too shabby if I do say so myself. For those of you to whom numbers are important, I take this moment to note that the red dress is a size 14 and is actually too big. Still not convinced? Then I encourage you to ask the young lady below who wore a size 30. What do you think she would say?

Today, weighing in at 174.2 pounds, I can’t help but wonder what comes next? It’s quite simple really. Now, instead of crawling, I run.

Welcome To ONEderland

For those of you who don’t know, “onederland” is weight loss surgery lingo for, “my weight starts with a ‘1’!” I know I’ve had lots of great “little milestones along the way,” but when I recently crossed the threshold to ONEderland, I was so proud of myself. When I started my weight loss journey just over eight months ago, my weight started with a “3.” For what it’s worth, so did my clothing sizes. “3x”…“30.” Yep, 30! Today, it’s an entirely different story. You’re more likely to find me trying on an “XL” or “16” and finding that, actually, they’re a bit too large. What can I say? A lot can happen in eight months.

But what about the next eight months? And the eight after that? For that matter, what about the rest of my life? What happens next? The quick answer is…I don’t know. For eight months, I’ve done everything right. Exercised regularly. Cut out all bread, rice, and pasta. Kept my calories low and my fat lower. Eliminated all fried foods. In doing so, I’ve certainly been richly rewarded on the scale, having, thus far, lost 145 pounds. As large as that number is, it’s not enough. OK…don’t be alarmed. I don’t mean that the weight loss is too small. In fact, while I have not reached my goal, I’m quite close and have no doubt about whether I’m going to enjoy continued weight loss success. What I do mean, however, is that a number on the scale will never be enough to motivate me to keep making the right choices. Let’s face it…long before I had gastric bypass surgery, I wanted the number on the scale to be something other than what it was. Yet that wasn’t enough. When you think about it, most men and women, even those who are not obese, or even overweight, have 5 or 15 or 20 pounds that they want to lose. While those few pounds may serve as an initial motivation to start eating differently or moving differently, how long does that motivation last? What if it wasn’t 15 or 20 pounds, but rather 150 or 200 that you wanted to lose?
Ultimately, I believe that long term success is tied not to the rewards we see on the scale, but rather the rewards we see in life. As a result of losing this significant amount of weight I am free. Free to travel (without a seatbelt extender). Free to walk (without my back aching). Free to shop (in numerous clothing stores because now they all have items that fit me). Free to line dance and Zumba (to my heart’s content because now my stamina is through the roof). Free to stand (for hours in the kitchen cooking nutritious meals for my friends and family). Free to enter restaurants (without the apprehension that I won’t fit into the booth they offer me). Free to comfortably ride a bicycle (while the wind blows through my hair, for the first time in more years than I can count).
This freedom is my motivation. Experiencing all of these wonderful things, and anticipating the many wonderful things to come, keeps me making the right choices. So, whether you have 20 or 200 pounds to lose, imagine for a moment the freedom you could enjoy if you reached that goal. Would you have more energy to play with your children? Would it cure your high blood pressure or diabetes? Would it improve your stamina? Would it give you more time to spend with those you love?
I guess what I want to know is…would you stop existing and would you begin to live?

Bariatric Healthy Living

My most recent post was recently included in the Bariatric Healthy Living Newsletter for my surgical support group.

So Much Can Happen In a Year!

It was October 2005 and I was on cloud nine. I was 24 years old, had just learned that I had passed the bar exam, and although my weight was climbing steadily higher, I felt as though my life had just begun. After all, I was still young and had plenty of time to deal with the whole weight thing. A few days later, everything changed. My father called me with the news that my 35-year-old brother, who, like me, was morbidly obese, had just had a heart attack. Less than an hour later, my brother was dead and in that moment, I knew my life had to change.

My brother’s death opened my eyes to how serious morbid obesity can be, even in a relatively young person. I knew that I did not want to suffer the same fate and I understood where my choices were leading me, but I did not know how to gain control. For the next four years, I tried diet and exercise, but with no long term or significant success. Then came the scary diagnoses…high cholesterol, high blood pressure, sleep apnea, swollen ankles…all before the age of thirty. Sure, I got up and went to work every day with a smile on my face, but as I got bigger, my life got smaller and I felt myself shrinking into invisibility. I was scared to travel because I knew I would need a seatbelt extender on the plane. I was scared to try new restaurants because I feared I could not fit into booths. (Admittedly, it’s probably a good thing I wasn’t able to try some of those restaurants). I was scared to just spend time with friends because I worried that my back would hurt if we had to walk further than a block or two. I knew that I had to do something to turn the tide.

That was when I began to consider weight loss surgery and met Dr. Tichansky, Michelle, and Alise. As a result of my gastric bypass in February 2010, my life has been transformed. In the eight months since my surgery, I have gone from 334lbs to 195lbs. High blood pressure…gone. High cholesterol…gone. My family members say I don’t even snore anymore. Recently, a close friend who also struggles with obesity asked me if I still had empathy for those who remain morbidly obese. I told my friend that I have more empathy now than ever. Now, because I’m so much healthier and pain free I have a greater appreciation of exactly how sick I was. I only hope that my friend, and others whose lives are still hampered by severe obesity, will make the choice to make a change.

I have not reached my goal weight yet and I know I still have a lifetime of hard work, and line dancing J, ahead of me. Ultimately, however, this is not about a number. It’s about making healthy decisions, experiencing more of what life has to offer, and feeling comfortable in my own skin. It’s not about existing…it’s about living.

You Can't Change the Past. On second thought...

...maybe you can. Imagine the woman who takes her 8-year-old daughter to ballet class twice a week to erase the hurt caused when she begged her own mother, without success, to do the same thirty years earlier. The overprotective father who showers his young son with affection, never allowing him the space to make mistakes, because his own father’s hands-off parenting style left him feeling as though his life lacked purpose and direction. The adult daughter who spends years perfecting her biscuit recipe, hoping to finally earn her mother’s stamp of approval.

Despite our best efforts, actions in the present cannot change the past. It’s a simple mathematical impossibility The past precedes the present. It has already happened. Already shaped us. Try as we might, there are no “do-overs.” No, “I’ll fix it next times.” That’s just the harsh reality of life. I have recently learned, however, that while we cannot alter history, we can maximize our present and redirect our future.

Last year, about six months before I had my surgery, I went to Las Vegas, NV with my family. At that time, my health – for a 29 year old – was in disarray. I had high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and sleep apnea. Walking more than a block or two caused lower back pain. I had a family history of heart disease. My grandfather had died of a heart attack in his 60s. My father had quadruple bypass in his 50s. And my older brother had died of a heart attack at a very young age. There was no question about where my choices and behavior were taking me. Despite this, if you asked me then, I would have told you that I was fine and that everything was under control. That was a lie. I feared going to the doctor because I was scared that she might tell me I was diabetic. For me, that was my threshold. I could have a dangerous family history of heart disease, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and sleep apnea, but NOT diabetes. In my food addicted mind, diabetes meant I was REALLY out of control.

So, I attempted to experience Las Vegas as best my rotund frame would allow me. I went to the pool. Ate large meals in world-class restaurants. Squeezed into theater seats. I thought I had thoroughly enjoyed myself. But the truth was, I had not. I spent the time at the pool covered in clothes, spent time in restaurants adding to my problem, and spent time in seats so uncomfortable that I couldn’t enjoy the show.

This past weekend, however, everything was different. My family and I returned to Las Vegas and all I can say is that a 110 lb weight loss makes a HUGE difference, both literally and figuratively. I still went to the pool, but this time, not embarrassed by my appearance. Still went to world-class restaurants, but this time made healthy choices. Sat in the same small theater seat, but this time had enough room to cross my legs. (YES, cross my legs!). Turns out, the seat…not so small. My butt…quite big. LOL!

Ultimately, I cannot get back the time I lost when I was hampered by my size. No more than the woman can erase the hurt she suffered when her mother refused to take her to ballet dance lessons thirty years earlier. But, what I can do is change the way that I live today, so that I can make my future outshine my past. I can choose to live.

The Price of Being F A T: A Cost Benefit Analysis By Someone Who Is Still In Debt

In a word...expensive. But maybe not for the reasons you think. Sure, I suppose the most obvious contributor to the price tag is the food. Number Ones and Number Twos from Wendy’s, McDonald’s, and Chik-Fil-A don’t run cheap…especially when they’re supersized and you eat them on a nearly daily basis. Then there’s the cost of taking a taxi three blocks because you want to avoid working up a sweat before your arrival at an important meeting or appointment. And of course, the clothes. When the majority of dresses in your closet begin with a “4” or “3” and end with an “X,” you can trust that what they lack in style they will certainly make up for in price. After all, it takes a lot of material to make a tent.

The list is endless. But the “good” thing is that this particular part of the equation is filled with items that we can quantify relatively easily. If I order a large number one from Wendy’s it will cost me about $6 or $7. If I take a taxi from the intersection Broad and Chestnut to the intersection of 17th and Chestnut, I’ll have to pay $5 or $6. And finally, if I purchase that jacket from Catherine’s Plus Size Clothing Shoppe, I’ll have to come up with $68 or $77, depending on whether I’m in a 3X or a 4X that day.

But what about the intangibles? They are insidious and not amenable to calculation, but our analysis would be incomplete without an examination of these hidden costs. For example, what about the dull headache I had most mornings because my undiagnosed sleep apnea meant that I literally stopped breathing hundreds of times the night before? How about the trip to the amusement park with my friends where I had to watch from the sidelines, pretending to hate all roller coasters because I feared that their harnesses wouldn’t fit my frame? And what about the relationships and friendships I never formed because I was shut in a room, hiding, embarrassed, and limited by what I had done to myself?

As much as I wish I could assign a dollar amount to these intangibles, I cannot. That’s because it goes without saying that good friends, quality time with family, and our lives are priceless. I know I have a lot of life ahead of me, but I’m nonetheless saddened by the fact that I took so long to regain control. I thought my life was full before I had gastric bypass, but the truth is the only things about me that were full were my hips and my stomach:-). My obesity cost me a lot, but I'm paying down my debt on a daily basis each time that I choose to live. And now is the moment for you to ask yourself, when you do your own cost benefit analysis, can you justify the choices you’ve made?

Choose to live.

The Not So Friendly Skies

Making reservations. Standing in long lines. Packing toiletries. Assembling cute outfits. Gathering travel documents and quart size bags for your liquids. Removing shoes for airport security. These are the things that “normal” people do when preparing for air travel. But, what about purchasing a seatbelt extender because you don’t want to go through the embarrassment of asking the flight attendant for one? Or worrying that the airline is going to require you to purchase an additional ticket because you’re encroaching on your neighbor’s seat? How about considering the possibility of flying from Philadelphia to Boston by way of Milwaukee just because Midwest Airlines has larger seats? Or my personal favorite, visiting the airline’s website to determine the exact model of the airplane that will transport you from Point A to Point B?

Sounds strange, doesn’t it? Most of us don’t care whether we’re on a Boeing 737-800 or an Embraer RJ145. But, when you’re obese, or a “passenger of size” as the airlines like to refer to us, you do care. You care because it may mean the difference between an uncomfortable flight and a miserable one. So, on every flight I’ve taken for at least the last ten years, I did the research and literally prayed for under booked flights and a “wide” seat on an exit row. But, the ironic thing was that regardless of whether http://www.seatguru.com/ told me my seat was going to be 17, 18, or 19.5 inches wide, I was still going to be stuffed like a sausage into a space that was too small for me. That was my pre-operative reality.

This weekend, exactly six months after my surgery, and 110 lbs smaller, I am reminded of what it is to be “normal.” My family and I planned a vacation, which included a 1.5 hour flight from Philadelphia, PA to Raleigh, NC. In my mind I knew that this experience would be different, but I was so nervous. Even up until the last minute I wondered whether I should pack my seatbelt extender. When I walked down the jet way, I said a silent prayer. Then I walked comfortably to my window seat, sat down, put down my arm rest and buckled my seatbelt. COMFORTABLY! At least six inches to spare!!! Amazing.

When I was on the other side of this experience, I tried to imagine a day like this. A day when I could just plan a vacation and be limited only by my finances and not by my weight. I think whenever we’re in the midst of any challenge, we try to envision a day when we’re beyond it. Trust me, what you hope for pales in comparison to the reality. If I had known how liberating this moment would feel, I would have acted with greater haste. I suppose, in a nutshell, what I’m saying is that… I would have CHOSEN TO LIVE. I encourage you to do the same.

CHOOSE TO LIVE!