I can’t believe it’s been a year already! In fairness, it’s been a crazy year. On top of losing nearly half my body weight, I (along with the rest of the World) have been trying to navigate life during a pandemic. In a sense, I’m incredibly lucky to have had surgery when I did. About two weeks after my surgery, they stopped doing “elective” surgeries. So, while everyone else was packing on the pounds, food was literally making me physically ill. Make no mistake, I’m not knocking anyone who put n weight during the stress and changes we have undergone. I am absolutely certain that I would have gained weight absent the surgery.
I just had my one year post-op with my surgical team. I never actually knew my medical goal weight. I knew I had reached it by my 9 month followup, but that’s all I knew. Apparently, my medical goal weight was 188. I’m now under 150 pounds. I am even still slowly losing. Frankly, that’s not even significant to me at this point. At the appointment, they asked what I had hoped for when I had the surgery. I explained that at one time I was between 135 pounds and 140 pounds. Having said that, I knew that the goal of the surgery I had was for patients to lose 80% of their excess body weight. So, I tried to remain realistic and contain my expectations. At this point, I am 10 pounds and one dress size away from being my cited “thin” size, though. The surgical team even asked if their promotional department could contact me as one of their success stories.
My husband said to me a couple of days ago that he literally thought it was impossible for me to drop below 140 pounds at this point in my life – surgery or not. I’m not the same age as I was when I considered myself thin (I’m over 10 years older), and I’m not a short woman. Now, he pretty much assumes that I will make that “goal.”
As stated above, it’s insignificant to me now. I am doing what I do. I finally have a healthy lifestyle. My relationship with food is healthy. I joked with my husband a few days before my one year post-op appointment that I was going to do the Devil Wears Prada diet (where you don’t eat anything until you are about to pass out and then eat a cube of cheese) because I was only a couple of pounds away from fitting into my size 10 jeans and I wanted to wear them to my appointment. While he knew I was joking about the Devil Wears Prada diet, it was clear that he assumed that I was serious about crash dieting for a few days to get into the jeans. I very quickly explained that the concept of dieting was not one I wanted to embrace anymore. It never served me well. Dieting is the opposite of overeating. It’s all an unhealthy mind frame around the role of food in my life.
I’m not saying I no longer eat foods that I like. In fact, I think it’s dangerous not to eat food that I enjoy. Feeling completely deprived is tough and is not a sustainable lifestyle choice for me. I don’t eat a lot, though. I eat when I’m hungry. I eat slowly. I stop when I’m satisfied (not “full”). I don’t eat garbage. I don’t even eat processed foods. I’m terrified of added sugars (in fairness, that is partly the result of the fact that they make me physically ill!).
I have a healthy relationship with activity, too. I work with a personal trainer twice a week, and I like it. I’m even getting close to being able to do an unassisted pull-up! I do cardio prior to those sessions as well as any other days I can fit it in. The other day, I realized that the treadmill speed had gotten too easy. So, I increased it. At the speed I increased it to, it felt natural to jog. So, I did. It was a little surreal. I thought, “Wow! That’s new!”
So, yes. It has been a crazy year all around. One for the books. I’m happy. I’m healthy. There is still a pandemic going on around me, but it seems realistic that anyone who wants to be vaccinated will be within 2-4 months.
Life is good.