Damn that fat kid...

I had the following) conversation with my Gastric Bypass surgeon last week at my 3 month check - up.

Dr P - "So you are doing great! Wow! Excellent weight loss for the first 3 months!!"

Me - "Thanks! I feel great!"

Dr. P ' "Now...listen to me and pay attention. This part of the post-op period can start to get a little tougher. Some people have a short plateau around this time. I don't want you to get discouraged if you have a couple slow weeks...you might not lose at all and you might even see some very slight gain"

Me: "Oh I know....yeah that can be tough...I'll be fine!"

The voices in my head: "Whatever, homes. I GOT this!"

Dr. P. "Keep in mind that there are a lot of things going on that can influence your weight. You are excercising more so you'll be building muscle, which weighs more than fat."

Me: "Mmm hmm"

The voices in my head: "Save it for some other poor schlump...I got this covered, yo!"**

Dr. P. "Your body chemistry is changing which causes shifts in calorie requirements and fat storage. Try not to pay attention too much to the number on the scale...notice how you feel and how your clothes fit and such."

Me: "Yes, I know...I've already seen a change."

The voices in my head: "Come on, yo! Why you gotta play me like that? Its all good!"

Dr. P - "OK, great! Keep up the good work...see you in 3 months. You deserve a hug, I'm so proud of you!"

Me - (slightly teary-eyed) "Thanks so much! See you soon!"

The voices in my head: "Easy, Romeo...I got a rep to protect."

Okay...so that was a rather long winded intro to what it is I'd like to report. I got weighed today, 14 weeks post op and the scale said a number that was one pound higher than what it said last week. HUH?

And that was all it took. Despite all of the voluminous evidence to the contrary all I could see was the failure.

My body fat percentage has decreased 9%.
BMI has decreased 21%
I have lost 20% of my TOTAL body weight.
I am 43% closer to my goal weight.
I have been exercising consistently and continue to do more things.
I haven't had a slice of bread or a morsel of pasta in 110 days (but who's counting).
I have dropped 2 full pants sizes and 3 full shirt sizes.
I recently purchased a "normal" bathing suit with no skirt, dress, shorts, apron or other camoflaging device (which Ryan likes to call "optical illusions").
I can comfortably cross my legs and lay my hands in my lap (which may not seem like a strange thing, but I actually could not do that before.)
I can, and have, walked around the block with Leah, ridden bikes with Leah, chased her in the back yard, rode in a go cart with her (also couldn't do that before...couldn't even fit myself in)...you get the idea.

So, why is it that I let myself get discouraged by that 1 stinking pound?

Maybe it is because I've been down this road before...I've seen the scale start sneaking back up and simply stopped getting on it anymore.

Maybe it is because I secretly fear that this is not my last battle with the bulge.

Maybe it it is because it is hard to let go of something you've been clinging to for 30 years, even if it is no longer of any use to you?!?

Maybe it is because the healthy, normal weight women inside me (who is coming closer and closer to the surface each day) seems like a really cool chick but I just haven't been able to get to know her very well. What if everyone likes her better than me?

Maybe it is because I live in a society that shouts from the rooftops that being fat is NOT okay and that when the scale goes up instead of down you might as well get out of the way because someone thinner will come along to take your place.

In the long run, I know that I am doing well and that I should be VERY grateful for what I have accomplished so far....but, even after all these years, the insecure, chubby little 8 year old seems to win out most of the time...

On the other hand, I am on my way to spinning class AGAIN tommorow morning...maybe the 8 year old is growing up a bit?!?




** Unbeknownst to me, it would appear that the voice in my head is that of an angry adolescent gang member.

My very big little girl...

Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, Ryan and I attend the "aqua fit" water aerobics class at our YMCA....the last 4 weeks, our Monday class has been broken up a bit because Leah is also taking Swim Lessons in the other end of the pool. I usually spend a lot of my class watching her. She LOVES to be in a situation in which she is learning and engaged. There are only 3 other kids in her group and every time I look over to see what is happening, I see her making eye contact with the instructor and nodding with understanding...she ants to do a good job so she pays attention.

30 feet away, you'll find me doing essentially the same thing. I want the instructor to look at me, see how hard I am working, and say "Wow! What a great job!!" Sometimes she does...mostly not, though. I know I am working hard and I suppose that should be enough...I mean, after all, I am doing it for me...not for anyone else.

And then when I least expect it, I get an even better alternative. When I got home (ryan and I had taken separate cars and he left the YMCA before me), Leah greeted me at the front door in her pink fuzzy footie pajamas. I came in the door and before I could even set anything down, she said (loosely translated) "Mommy? Remember when I was at my swim lesson and you were on the other side at your clas? "Yes", I say. "Well, she says, I was watching you and I could see that you were doing a really very very very good job and I am so proud of you!"

Who could ask for anything more?