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!

The Little Milestones Along The Way

Today I'm about 6 lbs from a major weight loss moment. When I have shed these next 6 lbs, I'll be able to say that I've lost 100. That's huge...both literally and figuratively. But, I haven't written in the past three weeks because, as I've approached this milestone, I kept thinking...maybe I should just wait until I hit that big number. Then I'll have something really important to say. But honestly, I'm starting to realize that in waiting for that "big number," I'm missing lots of significant small numbers along the way.

For example: 8...the number of hours I've spent line dancing in the last 4 days; 6...the number of dress sizes I've gone down since I had my surgery; 3...the number of flights of stairs I climbed last weekend as I proceeded to my seat in the Cort Theater in the Broadway District in NYC; 2...the number of hours I spent walking and looking at vendors in Time Square, completely pain free; or 0...the number of times I had to stop to catch my breath.

When I consider these little milestones on my journey, I realize how insignificant that "big number" truly is. This adventure is all about creating a space for myself in the world. For so long, though I didn't know it, my life was about using food to cope and survive. And in the process, I never tasted anything. Now I'm pausing to learn more, to love more, and to appreciate every step and detour that I make. So I say, hooray for the number 8, the number 6, the number 3, the number 2, and for 0 because...

8+6+3+2+0 = A Woman Who Is Choosing To Live!

Everything Begins With a Decision

I suppose this is something I've always known. That the ability to complete any task, be it great or small, begins with a decision. To select paper or plastic bags at the grocery store. To be the class clown or the scholar. To take the stairs instead of the elevator. To let a person know that they've hurt you instead of internalizing the pain. To tell someone that you love them as opposed to hiding your emotions for fear of rejection. To give or to take.

If I actually counted, I'm confident that I make hundreds of decisions each day. We all do. We decide what to wear. The best route to the office. How to handle workplace challenges. What to eat for lunch. The list goes on and on. And while I cannot always predict the outcome of the choices I make, most of the time I know when I'm on the right path. As I continue on my journey to a physically healthier Ange, I find myself wondering why it took me so long to decide that I was worth it. That I deserved to live a life filled with all of the richness that this world has to offer.

Though it seems so simple now, it wasn't simple then. I was so overwhelmed by what I needed to do to get healthy that I was literally paralyzed. In my mind, the odds were so stacked against me that I could not do the very thing that we all do hundreds of times each day...make a decision. What I can see today that I could not see 15 weeks ago is that just like the simple tasks that we do each day, like getting dressed and combing our hair, the difficult tasks are equally achievable if we have the right tools. Imagine, brushing your teeth without a toothbrush. Ridiculous. So no matter what your challenge may be, don't be the Ange that I used to be. Don't wait another day to make the decision to obtain the tools you need to thrive.

In other words...what I'm actually saying is...stop existing, and choose to live.

I Can See Clearly Now

In the beginning, I had a bit of buyer's remorese regarding my surgery. And no, I'm not scared to admit it. I had never had any type of surgery before (other than getting my wisdom teeth out) and I just really did not know what to expect pain wise. And then, two weeks after my surgery, just when I thought things were getting better, I had a horrible experience with some tuna:-). But now, here I am. Blood pressure under control and lower back pain gone.

I think when you're obese, but not completely immobile, you fool yourself into believing that your weight isn't "that bad." I mean, I still get up and go to work everyday, I can still take care of my personal hygiene, I don't have diabetes, and, in my case, I even went to water aerobics and line dancing classes once a week. But none of that changed the reality that my weight was ballooning out of control and killing me, slowly. For someone who exercises logic on a daily basis, my behavior and the situation I had created for myself made no sense. Just think about that for a moment...I may be obese and have a wide range of health and personal issues as a result of it, but at least I'm not diabetic. Does that even make sense? Of course not, but, the thing is, with an addiction, it never does. That's right. I said it. Addiction. That's what it is, plain and simple.

So now, just over three months later, here's what I know. (Don't worry, I'm not going to say anything corny like..."Now I eat to live instead of living to eat"). I know that I didn't get to be morbidly obese just because I like food. I was using food to deal with a whole range of emotions. Stress, anger, heartache...you name it. I also now know that the tool is stopping me from eating mindlessly or unconsciously. I was actually sitting at my desk at work last week and was working on a very challenging case. I got to a point where I didn't know what to do, and found myself starting to think, "I'm '''hungry'''." Then, because of this nice small pouch and rerouting of intestines situation I have, and how cautious I've learned to be about putting anything in my body, I realized, I'm not actually hungry. I'm responding to the stress of this difficult issue. That was an amazing breakthrough. Sure, the fact that I can wear smaller clothes and fit into chairs more comfortably is wonderful, but it's nothing compared to the awakening I had in my office last week.

I'm thankful for this opportunity. For ankles that don't swell. For being able to walk long distances without my back hurting. For seatbelts that buckle without contorted body movements. For the love of family and friends. And for the knowledge that because of this surgery, I am slowly rejoining the true land of the living.

Choose to Live

Last Supper Syndrome and Terror on the Zip Line

In January 2010, about one month before I was scheduled to have my surgery, I boarded the "Oasis of the Seas" bound for St. Thomas, St. Maarten, and the Bahamas. I was so excited. The shopping, island tours, exotic scenery, and of course, the FOOD. It had easily been 20 years, and more than 200 lbs, since I had last been on a cruise. Forget the sugar plums, I had visions of midnight buffets, virgin Pina Coladas, singing waiters, and three course meals in the formal dining room dancing in my head. When I think back to my vacation on the open sea, I'm reminded of what I did not do (well...let's be honest...what I COULD not do) and how much more fulfilling my experience would have been had my life not revolved around food.

Our stateroom had a view of the the boardwalk and each time I stood outside I saw people flying through the air on the zipline. Even with the door closed, I could hear the onlookers cheering for each person that zoomed by. Don't get me wrong, I knew well before we left that I would be able to do little more than watch the activity on the zipline. You see, the zip line had a weight limit and I was approximately 59 pounds away from that high-flying, free wheeling feeling. So, in true addict form, I convinced myself that I didn't want to do something as crazy as a zip line when I could go downstairs and eat chili cheese fries at the Johnny Rocket's.

Now, I can see those mind games for what they are. Before it was like I was in the midst of the battle for my life and had no idea that the ref had blown the whistle signaling that the game had begun. The cheese fries and fried shrimp were making baskets at the other end of the court and I was still on the sideline trying to stuff my swollen feet into my sneakers. Today, thanks to my RNY, I'm suited up and ready to play. It doesn't mean I won't get dunked on every now and then, but it does mean I can shake it off, keep playing, and celebrate lots of successes along the way because now, I'm officially IN THE GAME. By the way, now, just over three months since my surgery, and 70 pounds lighter, I am free and clear to use the zipline. So please trust that the next time I don't fly high it will be because I chose not to, not because I let my poor choices make the decision for me.

Choose to Live

Are You Living or Are You Existing?

Does that question sound familiar? If you’ve ever seen Tyler Perry's The Family That Preys, you’ve absolutely heard it before. When I watched the film for the first time over a year ago, that line really resonated with me. Of course I didn't realize quite how much that question would come to mean until very recently.

Several months ago, I made a major decision. I know a lot of us say we're going to do something to change our lives, but when the time comes to implement, we fall short. For me, falling short was no longer an option. Had I continued on my path, it would have meant my death. Death because I was literally eating myself to death. So, here I am, three and a half months post weight loss surgey and 70 lbs down. It's so amazing. It's not just the changes in numbers but the way that those changes in numbers correlate to changes in my life.

Yesterday, I went to this really expansive farmers market filled with all the horrible things in which I used to partake. Funnel cakes, fresh squeezed lemonade, hamburgers…you name it! Ironically, a year ago, I would have probably walked down one aisle, stopped to get "snacks" several times, and then left because my back was hurting. Not anymore. I walked the entire property yesterday. No pain at all. If that’s not change, I don’t know what is. Interestingly, as crazy as this may sound, there's a bit of sadness associated with this newfound freedom that my RNY has given me. I realized over this past week how I, like the character in the movie, was existing, but wasn't really living. I was going through the motions, keeping a smile on my face, and pretending that even at my highest weight, everything was fine. Now I know it wasn't. Today, because of the choice I made to have the surgery, I'm really present. Really feeling. Really experiencing. Today, I truly live. And if I never lost another pound (don’t get me wrong…I intend to lose many more) I have already been blessed.

Choose to live!