my work in progress: eating, part three

Told you this was going to be long!  I think this is the post I've dreaded the most. I've considered not posting this at all, because it's really embarrassing, but maybe someone else will recognize themselves here and know they're not alone.

Continued from last week...

Eating, Part Three

I’ve talked about my eating habits, but I haven’t yet shared what I actually ate.  I mentioned that I would finally share that with you all what I used to eat on a typical day before my weight loss surgery, so I will now.  It's pretty embarrassing, but I think it needs to be done.  I won’t talk about childhood eating, since it was they typical junk food and such.  Adulthood is when it really came into its own.

Are you ready?

So, let’s say Bob went camping for the weekend. He usually left right from work, which meant we was gone when I get home from work.  That left me Friday night, all day Saturday, and half of Sunday to indulge.

Let’s start with Friday night.  On my way home from work I would pick up something from McDonald’s.  If I were going to be ordering a meal, like pizza or sushi, I would get just a double cheeseburger and a 9-piece chicken McNuggets. Then I’d go home and order sushi.  I would order two mango shrimp rolls, a spicy tuna crunch roll, a shrimp tempura roll, and a lobster tempura roll. Yes, FIVE rolls. I would also get an order or either crab rangoons or fried chicken wings.  I would eat about 70% of that and eat the rest the following day. After all, I had McDonald’s before that so I was already on my way to being full.  If I wasn’t ordering a meal later, I would get a double cheeseburger, a 9-piece chicken McNuggets, and a Big Mac value meal.  And I’d eat it all. Once in a while I would have some nuggets left over, which I would eat before the end of the night.

Saturday morning I would go to the grocery store and buy a pint of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream and some other snacks.  On my way home I would stop at McDonald’s and buy my breakfast, which I would eat at home.  I would order the steak, egg, and cheese bagel value meal, an extra hash brown, and a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit.  And I’d eat it all.

Lunch might be a trip to McDonald’s or Duchess.  If I went to McDonald’s I would get a Big Mac extra value meal, a double cheeseburger, and a 9-piece chicken McNuggets.  If I went to Duchess, it was usually a Crispy Chicken value meal and either a hot dog or a 9-piece chicken nuggets.
I would then snack throughout the day on whatever I bought at the grocery store.  Usually chips or maybe a bagel.

Dinner would usually be some form of fast food or delivery again.  If I had sushi Friday night, I would usually order pizza on Saturday night.  I would get a large or medium pizza and an order of Buffalo wings. I was never able to eat a whole pizza (I know that’s the image people have in their heads when they see an overweight person), so I would eat the wings and maybe three slices of pizza. Maybe an hour later I would have another slice.  All accompanied by a couple cans of diet soda.

Then Cindy would come over for a “movie and ice cream” night.  We would break out the Ben & Jerry’s ice cream—one pint each, no bowls. Sometimes we would also have homemade popcorn, popped with oil and loaded with Land O’ Lakes butter and salt. So delicious!

Sunday morning was another trip down the road to McDonald’s for a steak, egg, and cheese bagel value meal, an extra hash brown, and a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit.

Sunday afternoon Bob would get home from camping and we would usually go out for a late lunch, where I would order an appetizer and meal, like usual.

After eating all this food, I would be absolutely busting full.  It was as though I had just eaten Thanksgiving dinner--twice.    I ate like that so often that it distorted my perception of feeling full.  It was so far off that I didn’t think I was full unless I was almost ready to puke. (It's something I have to be very conscious of, even now that I've had weight loss surgery and lost over 120 pounds.)

I also ate a lot at work.  When I started working as a bank teller, I was in the downtown area.  My branch was across the street from a restaurant, Roberto’s, which served everything from pizza and burgers, to steak and seafood.  I eventually got in the habit of going across the street to Roberto’s just about every day for lunch.  I would order a Philly steak and cheese grinder with heavy mayo, and an order of fries with a side of tartar sauce (if you haven’t tried tartar sauce on fries, you should—it’s delicious!).  Several years later I was working in the administrative offices of the bank. I worked in an office building that had a sandwich shop downstairs.  I would go there before I even went upstairs to work.  I would order a sausage, egg and cheese on a toasted sesame bagel and also a buttered hard roll.  I always felt self-conscious ordering all that, so I would usually tell the clerk that the roll was for later, or that I couldn’t make up my mind about what I wanted to eat that morning.  That was a lie, of course. I ate all of it as soon as I got upstairs to my desk.  At lunchtime, I would often go to the Italian deli or to the sandwich shop downstairs and get a big sandwich, a bag of chips, a bottle of diet soda, and some sort of sweet.  That might be an average lunch for a lot of people, but it was a lot of food when I was still full from breakfast.

To be continued...

my work in progress: eating, part two

This is continued from last week.  It's long so I decided to split it up.  

Eating, Part Two

As you’ve read so far, I snacked an awful lot as a kid, added tons of calories by way of chips and mayo without any thought about calories, begged for fast food before dinner, and ate second helpings at dinner quite often.   Even though I played outside a lot and rode my bike, I was never able to work off enough calories, so my weight steadily climbed.

As a teenager, I would get fast food when I went over a friend’s house.  Cindy and I lived only three houses apart, so when her parents went out on a Saturday night I often slept over.  The added bonus was that her parents would buy us fried chicken from Roy Rogers before they left for the night.  We would eat our dinner and watch TV.  Then later on we might have some ice cream.  The next morning her dad would get up early and get us chocolate muffins for breakfast.  Sometimes we had cereal, too.  At another friend’s house, her mom always ordered pizza when I came over.  Once I got a driver’s license and a job, I really shoveled in the fast food; we were close to McDonald’s, Burger King, and Kentucky Fried Chicken.

What I ate greatly depended on several factors.  Was I alone or with someone?  If I was with someone, was I was comfortable being my "eating self" with that person, or was it a stranger or acquaintance?  Was I eating out in public, or was I at home?  If I was at home, was I alone or was my husband home?  All of these factors greatly affected the type and quantity of food I would eat.

If I was home alone, I ate whatever, whenever; it was almost like a vacation or a special treat.  One of the things I always looked forward to, whether I was a kid or an adult, was having the house to myself.  It was basically a license to gorge.  As a kid, those times when I was home alone were usually after school and maybe sometimes on the weekends if my parents went out.  As soon as I got home from school I would fly through the cabinets and fridge at top speed, searching for anything I could get my hands on.  I don't mean I would grab a bottle of ketchup and guzzle it.  I'm talking about chips, candy, snacks, crackers, etc.  I'll add that usually the reason I did that after school is because I would eat just some toast for breakfast (I never got up on time and would have to grab something fast) or a Pop Tart. At school I would eat my lunch my mom gave me, but lunch was very early, usually around 11:30 am or so.  That's pretty early when the school day ends after 3 pm.  In high school I normally skipped lunch, so I would go all day without eating.  I usually ate something small at home in the morning, but that’s it.  Although, many times I would go to the school’s store and buy a ton of candy.  I would often walk out with at least three candy bars; they would all be gone by the time I got home.  And when I got home, I would eat as much as I could in the short amount of time I had alone.  I didn’t want anyone to see that I was eating the equivalent of a whole meal before dinner.

I met my husband at the ripe old age of 15.  Our “dates” consisted of driving around in his 1988 Plymouth Horizon—that was a fun car!—while listening to music and drinking; Bob was 21 so he was able to buy alcohol.  We almost always went out to eat, either to the diner or for fast food.  Since we saw each other almost every day, that was quite a bit of eating out.  And, typically, when he drove me home, we would stop at 7-11 and I would buy a Slim Jim, a 7-11 cheeseburger (those things are so addictive for some reason), and a Nestle Quik.  (Nutritious meal, huh?) I think that’s when I really started to gain weight.  Eating out was something we both enjoyed, and since we didn’t have all that much in common, eating was what we did for fun; it was our common bond.

When Bob and I got married and bought our own house, I had much more time to myself.  Bob often worked nights, so I would get home and just raid the house, just like I did after school when I was a kid.  But now I was working and often bored, so I would order out sushi, Chinese, or pizza.  Or I would go to McDonald’s, which, unfortunately, was at the end of my street.

And then there were the times when Bob went camping for the weekend.  I would plan my eating while I was at work.  As I said before, having the house to myself was a license to gorge.  I would plan to order sushi usually.  But I would stop at McDonald’s on my way home from work to get started. I would order the sushi.  But not just sushi.  I would usually add a Chinese appetizer—the restaurant I ordered from sold both Chinese and Japanese food.  The following day, Saturday, I would go grocery shopping and buy Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, and brownies and M&Ms for topping the ice cream, which would all get eaten that night when Cindy came over for a girl’s night.  Oh, and of course I would stop at McDonald’s for breakfast on the way home from the grocery store.  Sunday morning I would get up and drive down to McDonald’s again for my breakfast. Then Bob would come home and we would usually go out to the diner for a late lunch.

If I was eating out, I would normally order an appetizer for myself, plus my meal.  Bob would get his own appetizer and meal, also.  Depending where we went, sometimes there was a bread basket, or chips and salsa, or sometimes even popcorn. We would eat all of that. Then we would eat most of the appetizers.  When the meal came we were able to eat about half our meal and the rest would go home with us.  I often ate my leftovers later that night, but sometimes I would eat them the next day.  Oh, and I would have lots of diet soda with my meal.  I didn’t usually go too wild when I ate out, since I was in public and didn’t want to embarrass myself.

If I was eating with someone at home or at a friend’s house, how much I ate depended on how comfortable I was with that person.  Most of the time I was with Bob, so I would eat several cheeseburgers for dinner, along with some type of side dish.  A little while later I would have a snack.  And then another snack a while later.  Then maybe another mini meal after that.  If I was with Cindy, or over her house or a family member’s house, I would usually limit it to one cheeseburger and the side dish, and then maybe a snack later.

When eating with an acquaintance or a stranger, such as at a business lunch or a seminar for work, I would eat a “normal” portion, but I was usually thinking about a big steak the whole time. And I almost always finished my whole meal.  I was used to eating huge portions, so it took me a lot to feel full, or what my definition of “full” was at that time.  The whole time I would feel very self-conscious, wondering if I was, in fact, eating like a “normal” person, or if I was being a pig.

To be continued...

my work in progress: eating

I've been putting of posting this part of my book for a while now. But I think it's time to just suck it up and do it. It will be broken into several parts, as it's pretty long.

And here's the standard kitty pic as your reward for reading. :) This is Tiffany.

Eating

I used to minimize to myself and to other people the amount of food I ate.  “No, I didn’t eat that entire bag of chips!”  “My husband had a handful last week.” “No, I didn’t eat the whole box of chocolates! I dropped one on the floor and Cindy ate two.”  “No, I didn’t eat a whole pizza!  I stripped the cheese off the last slice and didn’t eat the crust from two of the other pieces.” Surprisingly, one does not get to be 343 pounds by eating “just a few chips”, or “one cheeseburger with a diet Pepsi.”  Shocking, isn’t it?

Time for me to publicly admit what I used to regularly eat before I had the gastric bypass surgery.  I’ve avoided it for a long time. It was just too embarrassing.  Still is. But since I’m writing a book, I guess it’s time to be honest and just lay it all out there for the world to see.

When I was a kid living at home, I would usually eat a second helping at dinner.  That’s assuming I liked what was being served.  (Until the day my mom died, she insisted that I “liked” the things I was sometimes forced to eat.  Seriously, what young kid actually likes stuffed peppers??) Not unusual. But I would often precede that with a big after-school snack, like a sandwich, or a couple Little Debbie snacks.  My mom always bought those for my dad’s work lunches. She would hide them so I wouldn’t eat them all, but I knew the hiding places and I’d just dive right in.  I never had just one. It was always two.  And that trend continued up until my surgery. Actually, I still struggle with that now, even after losing 135 pounds.

I used to have a small paper route, a weekly circular actually, and my mom would take me after school to deliver the papers.  My route took us down near the Burger King.  Every week I would beg my mom to take me to Burger King so I could get something.  Some weeks she would give in and others she wouldn’t. When she did, I always got a double cheeseburger with fries and a soda. And then I’d go home and have dinner on top of that.

My parents usually had ice cream in the house.  Sometimes it would be the dreaded Neapolitan or Butter Pecan.  Those were flavors I dubbed, “Old People Ice Cream.” But most often it would be Heavenly Hash—not great, but doable—and I was a sucker for chunky ice cream.  Typically, I’d get home from school and on days when my mom wasn’t home, I’d pull out the ice cream carton.  I’d grab a spoon, open the carton, and proceed to eat all the chunks. I’d then scoop the ice cream over the spots where I’d taken the chunks out so no one would know I’d eaten them all. I’d sometimes follow dinner with a giant bowl of ice cream while watching TV.  If we had only chocolate ice cream, I would get really creative. I would spoon in some peanut butter, or maybe Rice Krispies cereal, or even some Nesquik powder (so delicious on ice cream!).  Sometimes it was all three if we had them on hand.

Speaking of being creative.  When I had a sandwich, I couldn’t just have a sandwich. It had to be topped with something, like chips.  Most of the time it was either bologna or ham, American cheese, and lots of mayonnaise.  (Actually, the amount of mayo depended upon whose house I was at.  My parents always bought Miracle Whip, which I barely tolerated.  Once in a while they would buy regular mayo, but not that often.  Cindy’s parents, on the other hand, always bought Hellmann’s.  I’m sure you know whose house I preferred for lunch.)  Peanut butter and jelly was a candidate for topping with chips, also. My favorite chips for topping sandwiches were Doritos or Fritos.  Cindy used to laugh at me when she ate lunch at my house.  We would be sitting in the sunroom, quietly eating lunch. She with her bologna and cheese on white bread with a bit of mayo, chips on the side.  I with my bologna and cheese on white bread with an obscene amount of mayo, topped with a handful of chips.  I would push the sandwich down, not only so it would fit in my mouth, but so the chips would adhere to the mayo-slathered bread, thus ensuring a minimum amount of chip spillage.  (Yes, it was a science.)  I’d then bite into my sandwich and all you could hear was a loud “CRUNCH”, followed by loud chewing.  Cindy would usually start laughing, which got me laughing; it was an enjoyable lunch.

And toast.  Toast is a wonderful thing. It’s great for breakfast, as part of a sandwich for lunch, or as a snack. One can put just about anything on toast and it tastes good.  I used to get a bit carried away when making toast. Not only did I usually make at least three pieces at a time—four if no one was around to see—but I would add things to it.  Usually it was just a lot of butter and jam, but sometimes I’d get creative and do peanut butter with Nesquik powder (instant hot cocoa powder works in a pinch), or peanut butter and Fluff.  If we didn’t have jam I’d do peanut butter and butter—one of my mom’s favorites.  I may have added Rice Krispies a few times….

Anyway, the point is that I often got creative with my food, whether it was a sandwich, ice cream or even toast, which basically ensured I got the maximum amount of fat, calories, and sugar just about every time I ate. I’ve always felt the need to embellish my food and have some variety.  It’s not enough for me to have the sandwich and chips.  It has to be a sandwich topped with chips.  And I can’t have just one of something.  It always has to be two or more.  And when I went to a restaurant, I had to get the meal and an appetizer, sometimes two appetizers, even though I couldn’t finish it. I can’t explain it other than to say I felt like I was missing out on something if I didn’t get the meal and the appetizer.  I felt like if I didn’t make the most of my meal when eating out, the restaurant might close down and I’ll never get to eat that particular item ever again.  I know that sounds strange, but that’s how it was. And I still feel that way sometimes; however, the size of my stomach after surgery and my desire to spend less money usually prevents me from ordering all that food.

For a long time I've been trying to figure out why I've always turned to food for everything.  When I'm bored, I eat.  When I'm happy, I eat.  When I'm upset, I eat. When the sky is blue, I eat.  Food was something to do when I was bored, happy, sad, stressed, or used as a reward.  You get the idea:  I could always find a reason to eat. I always assumed I ate because I enjoyed it.  It was very pleasurable—still is—and gave me a little high. (I seriously don’t understand the people who say they eat to live, or don’t enjoy eating. My mom was like that.  She ate because she knew she had to in order to control her blood sugar, but she didn’t really care all that much about food.)

But it’s not just the enjoyment and pleasure I get from eating that caused me to eat.  It was the instant gratification I got from it.  I've always been someone who needs results now and eating gave me that enjoyment immediately.  Now that I’m older, I see that pattern throughout my life.  I was never a money saver.  I knew kids who would save up their allowance for weeks in order to buy something. Not me.  If I had $1.00 in my hand, I had to spend it.  I just couldn't save it.  Why wait all that time to buy something bigger later, when I could buy something smaller now and get instant gratification? Lots of times I didn't even wait until I had the money in my hands.  I was often in the red with my allowance.  I would beg my parents to buy me something and then tell them to keep my allowance until the item was paid off.

I realize now that I also felt a compulsion to eat. I don’t mean that every night I stood in front of the fridge, in the dark, at 11 pm and binged on anything I could get my hands on, or that it completely took over my life.  What I mean is that when I was presented with a meal, it was like someone was giving me a job to do.    There was a plate of food in front of me and it was my job to finish it.  Since I was very driven in my work life, that’s how I treated food:  it was a job that had to be done to the best of my abilities.

Lots of people say that if someone’s obese it’s because they had a traumatic childhood or they’re depressed or they have family issues.  I’m sure that’s true in many cases.  But sometimes people are obese because they love to eat, and their desire to eat outweighs their desire to be thin.  Sure, they would love to be thin and are likely upset that they can’t get themselves under control.  But the instant gratification, the high, which someone gets from eating is a very powerful force.  I know, because I spent my whole life chasing the feelings that come from instant gratification. I’m sure part of the reason I wanted that high was because I had such an awful time as school.  I felt horrible about myself all the time and food made that feeling go away temporarily.  When I was eating, I was focused on the moment: the smell of the food, the texture, the taste, and the look.  I wasn’t thinking about being called ugly names for the umpteenth day in a row.

So, what does it take to become 343 pounds at the age of 38?  It takes years of sustained overeating.

To be continued...

my work in progress: dieting

This will be done in a few installments, since it's long.  It's also not completed yet, so hopefully I'll finish that up soon.

Enjoy!

Dieting

Everyone, including myself, thinks there’s some magic diet that will take the weight off fast and it will be gone forever.  I’m going to say this now:  there is no magic pill or solution for weight loss other than cutting calories.  It’s simple math:  calories in, calories out.  If your calories out are more than your calories in, you’re going to lose weight.

I’ve been on a lot of diets throughout my life, although probably not as many as one would think.  I’m always amazed when I see people on TV saying they’ve tried over 30 different diets.  I would guess I’ve been on seven different diets; this doesn’t include all the times I said I was on a diet and just cut calories.  I’ve tried Weight Watchers, Atkins, South Beach, Slim Fast, Medifast, and also worked with dietitian and underwent hypnosis.

I know several people who have tried fad diets, such as the Cabbage Soup Diet, the Grapefruit Diet, and the Cookie Diet, to name a few.  There was also one that involved very deep breathing.  I don’t know what that one is called, but it’s hokey just like all the others.  Oh, and one that involved visualization.  If you wanted junk food, you were supposed to imaging that the food is covered with really disgusting stuff, like dirt and pubic hair.  (Oh my God, I’m ready to dry heave just writing this. I must stop.  Now.) The problem with these diets is that they don’t promote an actual lifestyle change, which is what it takes to sustain weight loss.  They promote fast weight loss.  That’s great, but as soon as you go back to regular eating, the weight creeps back on.  If you limit your calories to what you actually need to sustain the weight loss, then the weight won’t come back.  But after being on a fad diet, you typically eat more than you should because you felt deprived for so long. You might not realize you’re doing it, but you usually are.

Slim Fast is the first diet I tried.  This is probably a very well-known diet to most people.  Basically, you have a Slimfast shake for breakfast, another for lunch, and then a “sensible dinner.”  I didn’t do this for very long, because I was so hungry all the time; it’s very hard to go from eating three huge meals a day, plus snacks, to having a liquid breakfast and lunch.  I wasn’t very good at eating a sensible dinner.  By the time dinner rolled around, I was starving.  I don’t know anyone that had long-term success with this plan.  I tried it a few times, but, ultimately, I just couldn’t do it for long.

I’ve been on Weight Watchers three times.  The first time I lost 80 pounds.  The second time I lost 50 pounds. And the last time I lost about 20 pounds.  It’s a great program:  it encourages healthy eating, exercise, and accountability.  It also gives you lots of tools to succeed, like goal-setting, holiday eating tips, and online support.  When I was on it, they were using the basic Points system.  You get a certain number of Points per day based on your weight.  Every food has a Point value and you can spend those Points any way you like.

The first time I was very focused.  Cindy went on it with me and we attended the weekly meetings together.  That really helped, because it’s always easier to do something when you’re not doing it all by yourself.  We pushed each other and encouraged each other.

I also joined a local gym.  I was very faithful in going to the gym after work.  I went typically four times a week and worked out for about an hour or so.  When I started I met with a trainer who gave me a fitness test; I failed miserably.  Well, it wasn’t pass/fail, but I was in very bad shape.   I had to do one minute on the step, just stepping up and down.  I was breathing so hard after about 20 seconds that I thought I was going to pass out.  Then she measured my body fat and did a few other things with me.

I started my workouts, and I was barely able to make five minutes on the elliptical machine. My legs were burning really bad and I was breathing very heavily.  But I pushed through it and eventually I was able to go for an hour with no problem. I also used the treadmill and the weight machines.

Meetings were on Thursdays.  Eventually I got into the habit of eating a fast food feast after the meeting. That wasn’t bad.  But then I would start eating whatever I wanted on Friday.  Then it got to also be Saturday and Sunday.  Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday I would stay on track.  Then Thursday I would eat very little in hopes that an empty stomach would translate into less weight on the scale. I know, that was stupid.  I also started eating more fast food, which meant a lot of Points were spent on that.

Once I hit the six month mark, I started to lose steam and get bored.  I kept going for a bit, maybe another couple months, and lost about 80 pounds in total, but I finally stopped following the plan altogether and stopped going to the gym. I eventually regained then wait, and then some.

The second time I did Weight Watchers I lost about 50 pounds.  I joined another gym. This time Cindy and I joined the same gym, so we would go together most times. I would say that lasted about six months and then I gave up.  It was much harder the second time around.  I knew all the ways to cheat and had been there, done that. I regained that weight.

The third time was after losing 80 pounds on Medifast.  I joined Weight Watchers again in order to stay accountable and follow a plan. I lost about 20 pounds and I lasted barely three months.  I then quickly regained the whole 100 pounds.

To be continued...

my work in progress: clothes shopping

Another excerpt from my future masterpiece.  This one is about the wonderful world of clothes shopping as an overweight teen/adult.  It really sucked at times.

Enjoy!

Clothes Shopping

Clothes shopping as an overweight girl during the school years wasn’t that bad.  All the way through high school I was still able to wear a Misses size, so I was usually able to buy what I wanted.  Well, assuming my parents could afford it and were willing to buy it.  It sometimes excluded me from the cool clothes, like the nylon parachute pants with the neon zippers (remember those??) and crop tops, but I’m probably better off in the long run for not wearing stuff like that:  there are no pictures with which to black mail me!  (Although, I had Sally Jesse Raphael-like glasses.  They weren’t prescription glasses. Just frames with glass in them.) I did, however, have an issue with finding pants that were long enough—I’m 5’11”—and shoes that were big enough—I was a size 11 in high school.
I once had to go shopping for a formal dress.  I don’t remember if it was for the prom, or if it was for a wedding.  My mom and I went to the local bridal shop.   I happened to be wearing a bulky sweater that day.  We walked in and an older gentleman met us almost immediately.  He looked me up and down and said, without measuring me, that the shop didn’t have anything that would fit me and that their sizes don’t go that high, even if the dress was special ordered.  He hadn’t even measured me yet!  He pulled out his tape measure and measured right in the middle of the store, over my bulky sweater and confirmed that nothing there would fit me.  Talk about humiliating! Luckily, that was the one and only time something that obnoxious happened. If that happened to me now, I would likely tell him off in a voice loud enough for all to hear.

Clothes shopping was always so difficult once I became a teenager.  Starting somewhere around maybe freshman year of high school I began shopping at the plus size clothing stores, which were very limited at that time.  I could sometimes shop in the Women’s department of a department store; however, the sizes typically ran smaller than those in the plus sized stores.  Eventually, though, the department store sizes just weren’t big enough anymore.  I was stuck going to Lane Bryant.  Back then, it was difficult to find plus sized clothing that didn’t look like it was for a 400-pound, 70 year-old woman.  Most of the clothing was fairly plain and baggy, and in drab or loud colors.  There was nothing trendy to speak of.  My choices were looking like I was wearing a springtime bedspread, or a potato sack; the Lane Bryant back then was not the Lane Bryant you see today. And that was tough for a teenager. My mission when shopping for clothes was to find something I hated the least, and that would hide my body as much as possible.  That wasn’t always easy.

As I got older, more plus sized clothing stores opened and there was more of a choice; however, there were often seasons when I found nothing at all that I liked.  It was so depressing to go into a store, go through all the racks one by one, and find nothing I liked.  Not a single thing.  Everything was either clingy, too baggy, had a weird accessory, like an attached necklace or a slit in an awkward place, or it was just plain ugly.

Designers seem to think that fat women like clothing that either looks like something our mother or grandmother would wear, or looks like it is two sizes too small and we should be on street corner.  Sorry, but I don’t want to show off my back fat by wearing something that is fitted and clingy in all the wrong places.  (I’m someone who takes issue with large women wearing tight clothing; it just doesn’t look appealing to me.)  Nor do I want to look like I’m wearing a shapeless, old-fashioned bedspread.  And I don’t want to wear, for lack of a better term, “mom jeans.”  No mom jeans at 20 years old, please. Unfortunately, though, I had to wear them because that’s what fit and was comfortable.

I think the plus size clothing stores are much better nowadays.  It seems like plus size clothing designers finally realize that we want clothing that is comfortable, fits right, and is trendy, or elegant, or just plain put-together looking.  I recently went shopping at The Avenue—I’m still straddling the Misses/Women’s line—and found so many things I actually liked and that looked good on me.  There were some items I didn’t care for, but it was because the material was too thin or the cut just didn’t look good on me.  It wasn’t because they were ugly.  I also went to Catherine’s and found lots of nice things.  I will say one thing, though, plus sized clothing is not cheap.  The average cost of a regular shirt—not a sweater or dressy shirt—seems to be around $50.00.  That probably doesn’t seem like much if you regularly shop in higher end department stores, but that seems like a lot for an average, mid-range store.

There were lots of times when I went to the mall to find some clothing and either one of two things happened:  a store patron asked me for help finding something—they thought I worked there because I looked a lot older, or they asked me if I was pregnant.  It didn’t bother me when someone thought I worked there; I realized I looked much older due to my height.  But it definitely bothered me when someone asked if I was pregnant.  I was devastated the first time someone asked me that.  I was so shocked and hurt that it didn’t even occur to me that I should be angry, or that I should make a rude remark.  I just mumbled that I wasn’t and walked away.  I remember being very upset after that.  It’s such a hurtful thing to say to someone who is overweight, especially at that age. I already felt terrible about myself.  Now I had a stranger confirming what I thought was true:  I was so fat people thought I was pregnant.


As I got older, I was asked more often if I was pregnant, when I was due, etc.  And it was more hurtful every time it happened.  People think that if someone is fat, they must be pregnant. They don’t stop to think that maybe the woman is NOT pregnant, she’s just fat.  I think most of the time people are well-intentioned, though.  They’re looking to make small talk, or they love kids and want to impart some gem of wisdom.  Plus, people seem to go all ooey gooey over babies and when they see what they think is a pregnant woman, they want to be part of that.  They’re not asking if a woman is pregnant because they think she’s fat and they want to embarrass her.  But that’s still no excuse.  I feel it’s very rude to ask a woman if she’s pregnant or infer that she is.  You just don’t know what’s going on in her life.  Maybe she just had a miscarriage and is struggling emotionally, or maybe she’s trying to get pregnant and can’t, or maybe her child just passed away.  Or, of course, she’s just overweight.

my work in progress: the decision to have surgery, part two

Last week I decided to start posting excerpts from my future book in an effort to get my head back in the game and refocus.

Continued from last week's post...

The Decision to Have Surgery (continued)

The first incident happened on a flight to catch a cruise out of Florida.  I booked a cruise with my friend, Cindy, and two friends of hers, which was scheduled to depart mid-March in 2013.  It was the Monsters of Rock cruise, which sailed from Fort Lauderdale, Florida, to the Bahamas.  It was basically 24/7 concerts featuring many 80s hard rock bands. Most of the bands were smaller names; however, there were a few well-known names, such as Tesla, Stryper, and Faster Pussycat.  The ship stopped at Coco Cay and Nassau.  It was a lot of fun and I came back with a very bad sunburn and a few extra pounds—I drank what I imagine was a huge amount of calories in the form of frozen cocktails. (Later I commented to Cindy that I never felt hungry.  Well, that's because I was getting all my calories from booze.)

As I mentioned, the cruise sailed from Florida and I’m in Connecticut, so we had to fly there.  Cindy and I flew together and the two other women flew down together a day ahead of us.  In the months leading up the cruise, I remember being worried that I wouldn’t be able to buckle the seatbelt on the plane.  I tried very hard to get back on the diet bandwagon so that I would lose a few pounds by time the cruise rolled around. I remember talking to Cindy on the phone, trying to convince her to get back on track with her diet and asking her if she really wanted to be the biggest woman in the group.  The reason I said that was because she was talking about how depressed she was and that she couldn’t lose the weight, and I guess I wanted to somehow shock or shame her into getting back on track. Now that I think back on it, I feel terrible for doing that. I was honestly trying to help and wanted both of us to lose some weight before the cruise, but I now realize it probably had the opposite effect.

The day of departure came around and we got on the plane.  We were both having trouble buckling the seat belt.  I tried several things to get it to buckle:  I pulled with all my might, as though there was an extra three inches of seat belt I could magically pull out of my ass; I sucked in my stomach as far as I could; and I even sat up higher in the seat so the seat belt would hit lower under my stomach.  No dice.  I finally just laid the belt over my lap and covered the buckle with my arm, hoping that the flight attendant wouldn’t notice.  She didn’t.  It’s pretty crazy to think that I would rather fly without a seat belt and risk injury, than just ask for a seat belt extender.  The same thing happened on the flight back, although I was eventually able to buckle it. It squeezed me and made my stomach hurt, so I only buckled it for take-off and landing.

The second incident happened when Bob and I flew out to Las Vegas so I could see my all-time favorite band, Def Leppard, who were playing a residency at the Hard Rock Hotel.  This was about two weeks after the Monsters of Rock cruise.  I was nervous to get on the plane knowing what happened when I flew to Florida two weeks before.  Bob and I got on the plane and when I went to go buckle the seat belt, it wouldn’t buckle.  This seat belt, believe it or not, was even shorter than the ones I had on the plane to and from Florida!  I realized that there was no way I could buckle it, and it wouldn’t be easily hidden like last time.  I decided to ask for a seat belt extender.  Unfortunately, the flight attendant wasn’t sensitive to the fact that I was obviously overweight and was probably embarrassed about asking; therefore, he yelled out to the other flight attendant, all the way at the front of the plane, to get the extender from the compartment.  It was brought back to me and I quickly put it on, hoping that no one noticed.  To this day I don’t remember if anyone saw me or not, but I remember feeling as though every eye was on me, judging me for the “fat cow” they thought I was.  It was incredibly humiliating.  My face was probably bright red and my eyes were tearing up.  I quickly texted my sister, Dorie, to tell her what had happened and how upset and embarrassed I was.  She said a few things to calm me down—she’s great like that—and that helped.  The flight back wasn’t much better, although the flight attendant was very discreet.  She got the extender and concealed it as she carried it back to me; I really appreciated that.

On the flight back from Las Vegas is when I made the decision to have weight loss surgery.  Never in my life have I had to ask for a seat belt extender on an airplane, although I admit there were a few times I should have asked. It was the most humiliating experience I’ve ever had.  Even worse than being asked if I’m pregnant at age 13. I decided then that I would never feel like that again.

To be continued...

Another cat picture, as a reward for reading. Max and Bailey.

my work in progress: the decision to have surgery

Back in October I decided to try the National Novel Writing Month challenge, which is to write a full novel during the month of November.  I didn't make my goal, but I got a pretty good start.

I decided I'll share some of it from time to time, as I'm in the process of getting things back in order. I'm seeing the dietitian at the surgeon's office this week, and I think posting these excepts will help remind me of what I'm trying to accomplish. I've gotten so far off track and I'm at the point where I either give up totally and fail, or suck it up and just do it.  I want to do the latter, not the former; the former I've done my whole life when it comes to my weight.

The excerpts I'm going to share are just a first draft.  I know I have some regular readers, so please comment! I'd love to hear what you think.

And here's a kitty picture--my reward to you for visiting and reading.

The Decision to Have Surgery

It took me many years to decide to have weight loss surgery.  When I was in my 20s, my gynecologist asked me if I had ever considered the surgery.  I told her I had thought about it, but I wasn’t yet ready to throw in the towel.  At that point, I felt that having weight loss surgery meant that I was a quitter, and that it was the easy way out—I now know better.  I felt as though I hadn’t tried everything possible to lose the weight.  That was when I began a 15-year roller coaster of losing and regaining the weight.

Several times over that 15-year span I got close to deciding to have weight loss surgery, but I would always come up with a reason as to why I should try just one more time.  The reason was usually that while weight loss surgery would help me lose a lot of weight fast, essentially fixing the physical aspect, it wouldn’t fix the mental aspect.  So, I continued on to lose weight yet again, only to regain all of it and more.

In early 2010, I was at the point where I was ready to have weight loss surgery.  I scheduled a physical with my new primary care doctor and when he mentioned my weight, I asked for a referral to a bariatric surgeon.  He gave me a look of reluctance.  He asked if I had ever tried Medifast.  I said no. He then talked about the program and said that both he and his wife were following it.  He said he has lost about 20 pounds and his wife has lost much more.  He invited me to an informational seminar, which I attended.  The seminar was held at his offices; I didn’t realize at the time that he was a Health Coach for Medifast, which means he got compensation for promoting the program and supporting his clients. I decided to give it a shot and I ordered my first month of food before I left.

The plan consisted of five of the Medifast meals each day, which were mostly mix-and-eat, and then one meal consisting of protein and vegetables. I did well on the program—I lost about 80 pounds—but I got bored within six months, as usual.    I tried several times, half-heartedly, to go back on the program, but I eventually gave up.  I regained all the weight, plus a lot more.

It wasn’t until early 2013, when I was 38, that I finally made the decision to have weight loss surgery. There were two events within close proximity to each other that finally sealed the deal and made me realize that I needed to do something drastic to end the weight loss struggle once and for all.

To be continued....