"Let's Swim to the Moon, Let's Climb Through the Tide." - The Doors

Right now, I’m so sick of hearing my own voice.  I’m sick of hearing myself say things out loud.  I’m sick of the constant chatter in my head.  I’m sick of writing emails and Facebook posts.  And I’m kinda sick of my blog posts.  Once I finish one, I can’t bear to go back and read it again.  I can’t take re-visiting my own angst.  I just want to be quiet for a while and not speak…..no talking, no thinking - just doing and evolving.

Other people’s voices can also have the same effect on me.  I don’t want to make polite conversation about the weather and traffic or go around and around discussing the same solutions to the same little problems at work over and over.  None of it matters to me right now at all.  If we can talk about something that matters, great.  (And by “talk”, I mean discuss like civilized adults……I do not mean insult each other like children because someone disagrees with us over politics, ‘cos I don’t care about that either.)  The only thing that matters is what really matters…..everything else is just noise pollution (and yes, I get to decide what matters to me).

In some ways, my world has gotten very small, very simple.  Like a pre-teen, I’m experiencing a growth spurt.  I don’t want anything to disrupt that.  But my world has also gotten a lot bigger, ‘cos I’m doing more, trying more, open to more, living more, searching for more, wanting more, expecting more, meeting more people, hearing more stories….

I need more fun in my life, I really do.  I desperately want it too.  I need the sun on my face and giddy, silly adventures and hysterical laughter and carefree afternoons…but behind every adventure, the dark cloud of reality follows me.  I can’t seem to shake it.  For every positive story and experience I’m drawn into, there are 10 dark ones that I just have to know about.  I’m constantly drawn to the most depressing stories I find…you know, stories like how unwanted birds at chicken factories are buried alive in mass graves or how terrorists beheaded yet another American journalist.  I feel like I need to read these stories, like I HAVE to know about them….as if to deny horrible things happen in the world or not care that horrible things happen in the world is wrong.

Right about now, I know what you’re probably thinking as you read this. I’m thinking it too…….I know what my problem is.  It’s always been the same.  I think way too much.   I worry too much.  I take everything – including myself - SO seriously.   It’s such a drag.  That’s why I need to try and be quiet for awhile.

In addition to the depressing stories I have always been drawn to, these days I spend a lot of time thinking about habits.  No, not the kind of habit a nun wears…I’m talking about the behavior patterns we all manage to acquire and perform until they become automatic.  And habits are not a fun subject.  There’s nothing sexy about habits.  At first glance, they’re not even worth thinking about, but if you really stop and think about it, you realize how fascinating habits actually are.  If you analyze why you do a certain thing every day at the same time in the same way or why you do something at all, you’ll see something about yourself you never saw before.

I started thinking about habits after my sleeve surgery, obviously.  I had to.  My old way of doing things was just not going to work anymore if I wanted to get the most out of my sleeve.  Then I started reading a blog called “The Happiness Project” and the author of that blog, Gretchen Rubin, is kind of obsessed with habits.  She writes about habits, among other things, a lot.
As I started to think about habits, I realized just how important good habits are for a free-spirited, rebellious individual like myself.  Left to my own devices, my day is pretty chaotic.  Everything is “fly by the seat of my pants”.  I do everything on a whim.  I need structure.  I need habits.  My week nights are very structured now.  I get home from work usually around 6:30.  I change for the gym, eat a snack, relax for a short time then head out to the gym at 7:30.  I come home around 9, eat dinner – usually 2 scrambled or poached eggs – and go to bed as early as I can make myself. 

In the last month or so, I realized I have started to REALLY like Saturdays.  Like everyone else, I look forward to the weekends but lately I’ve been noticing I love Saturdays even more than I used to.  Then I realized why…it’s because I get up and meet my trainer at the gym at 10am.  Sam is usually at his girlfriend’s  house on weekends so I get up, look after the dogs, have a snack and go.  When I come home, I have the house to myself, look after the dogs again, shower, make some food (usually breakfast even though it's after noon) and relax with coffee on the couch.  My day has structure, purpose.  See, I used to just sleep in, then wake up whenever and have no real purpose to the day. These are all new habits for me and they really make my day.

I have to admit, it was not easy forcing myself to accept these new habits.  I didn’t want such a regimented schedule just like I did not want such a regimented diet.  But the more I talked to people at the gym about their lifestyles, the more I realized most people don’t become healthy and in shape by accident.  They work at it every single day and they do and eat the same things over and over.  So that’s what I started to do too. 

Another thing Rubin writes about often is whether we should accept ourselves the way we are or challenge ourselves to be more.  This is another one of those ideas that has been on my mind for many months, mostly as it relates to body love and weight loss.  I don’t know how many articles I’ve read that support the idea of loving yourself and your body the way it is right now at this very moment.  As I’ve said before in another post, there’s something about this idea that really rubs me the wrong way.   Of course I want to love my body and myself...and, it's complicated, but I mostly do.  But I know I can do and be better.  To me, it is not contradictory to love my body and also expect more.  That expectation comes from a place of love.

I also really dislike the complacency implied in the idea of “accept/love yourself as you are”.  One of my fellow weight loss surgery patients who got her sleeve a year ago has said her obesity was caused by “complacency disease” and I can completely see that.  I feel like it’s giving up and being a bit of a victim to just accept something, whether it’s your body or some other part of you or some other situation in your life.  “Acceptance” implies that what you are right now is all you’ll ever be and all you’re capable of, which isn't true.  It also implies that everyone else should not expect anything from you, and you should never expect or hope for anything from yourself either, which I find really sad.  I mean, there are times in life where hope and expectation are the only things to look forward to.  

Another blog I regularly read is “Girls Gone Strong”.  It’s a community of women in the fitness industry who write articles on fitness and wellness in general and weight lifting specifically.  One of these articles contained some words of wisdom I could really identify with:

“Initially, my own desire to improve and transform came
from a VERY unhealthy place.  I just thought that
I wasn’t enough. Those thoughts looped in my
brain over and over and over again, and led me to a
place of negativity, fear and self-loathing.”

That, of course, hits home for me.  I received quite a bit of negative feedback after my last post related to body image some months ago.  A lot of people think the act itself of having weight loss surgery is an act of hatred against your body.......and I’ve done it, twice.  I’ve heard the expression, “You can’t hate yourself to happiness” and I really started to wonder if that’s what I was trying to do.  

But no, I had weight loss surgery not because I hate my body but because I love my body and myself and know I can be better…what’s wrong with that?  I hired a trainer because I love my body, and I want it to be the best it can be.  The obese body I had and still have doesn’t reflect self-love…in fact it only reflects my previous self-hatred, my violent and reckless history…..so why would anyone think that's good enough for me and that I should accept myself the way I am?  I should accept self-hatred?  I don't think so.

Indulge me for a moment while I get  bit self-righteous. I really just think we are ALL – every single person alive - capable of so much more than what we are right now.  Our potential for greatness is limitless.   Even people who already  live crazy awesome lives and do amazing things are capable of doing more and they know it….that’s why they live crazy awesome lives and do amazing things.  Because they can.  And they know they can.  So they do.

For example, my photojournalist friend Kris doesn’t go, “Hey remember that first time I went to the Amazon and talked my way into places no white girl has ever been before and  almost got killed five times trying to photograph that village? Yeah well that’s it for me…..  I’m gonna milk that story about how I fell into the anaconda nest and had to ditch my boots for all it’s worth for the rest of my life while I sit here in my rocking chair and wait to die.”  No…she knows she can  do more, be more, IS more so she does not “accept herself the way she is”….she constantly puts herself out there and takes huge risks and allows her experiences to carve into her and shape her into a new person.  And then she does it again and again and again.  I admire that.  I more than admire that. She is amazing and I wanna be like her.  I want everyone I know to be like her and have amazing stories to tell about the fantastic life they are living.

I’m not saying we all have to go to the Amazon to live up to our potential.  But no matter what kinds of lives we have, no matter what kinds of bodies we have, no matter what kinds of people we are, no matter what our circumstances in life, I know for sure, we all have SO MUCH POTENTIAL so why aren’t  we trying harder?  I don’t mean in our careers or to get more money or bigger houses or whatever.  I’m not talking about elevating our social class or financial status.  I’m not talking about the never ending quest for perfection.   Those things are all temporary…an illusion.  No one on their death bed is going to go, “wow, I am so happy I made VP!”.

I’m talking about on a basic level, as human beings who have the power to shape the world around us, why aren’t we trying harder to constantly challenge our limits and define our desires and carve out a life we dare to imagine and fight like hell to be the best version of ourselves that we can be?  Instead of constantly rewarding ourselves for doing the bare minimum, for being mediocre, we should WANT to reach for the stars.  We should be focusing on our own internal selves instead of constantly criticizing or analyzing what we see externally.  We are so busy commenting on what we look like, what others look like and do but we don’t spend much time recognizing our own individual potential and striving to be better human beings.  At least that’s how it seems.  That’s how I feel about myself.

When I think about how I felt after I lost 100 pounds with the lap band 10 years ago, I realize I was focused on the idea of “being happy” but I never went deeper with that idea.  Happiness was all about the present moment.  I never thought about habits and I never thought about pushing myself to be more, to live up to my potential.  I didn't even think about what my potential was.  I just accepted the weight loss that came easy to me and I accepted a life of constantly being sick and a diet of ice cream and chips because they were easy to swallow and I thought I was successful and happy.  That was good enough at the time and I assumed that since I was happy in the moment that I would be happy for ever, and I felt entitled to that happiness. This thinking concerns me quite a bit and I don’t want to fall into that again so I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about what it is that would make me deeply and truly happy and how to make that happen, because I know for sure I have to work for it.  It isn’t just going to fall in my lap.

The first thing I MUST do to be deeply happy is reach my weight loss and fitness goals....this is non-negotiable.  That is really the only thing that truly matters to me right now because virtually every other thing stems from that.  Without that, everything else falls down.  If I can’t live the life I want then I’m watching others do the things I want to do, I’m watching others have the kind of sex life I want, I’m watching others get the jobs and the partners and the clothes I want.  I'm watching others have fabulous adventures and take risks.  I’m watching others reach for the stars without me.  I've got the black cloud of "what if..." following me around for the rest of my life.  I'm living with the knowledge that my demons beat me, and I cannot live with that.

People always ask me what my goal weight is.  Well, I don’t have a number.  Nor do I intend to really ever decide upon a number.  My surgeon told me the day after my surgery that if I lost 100 pounds he would consider me a success.  I’ve accomplished that, but it’s not enough.    I want more for myself than to be considered a success by my surgeon.  I want to consider myself a success too and I don’t yet.

I have a list of things I want to do, things I want to try, things I wish were physically easier, and when I can do everything on that list, and anything else that strikes my fancy in the future, without a second thought about my weight holding me back from doing so, then I will know I have reached my goal.  I’ll know it when I wake up one day, look at my body and I'm proud of what I see.  I don’t care if the medical community or other people still think I’ve overweight at that time.  I don’t care what size I wear or what the number on the scale says.  When I can live the way I want, then I’ll know I have reached my goal.  

Maybe you can understand now why I need to quiet my voice.  There is just so much noise.  It’s all good stuff to be “thinking” about but there comes a point when thinking becomes a real disadvantage….and frankly, I feel like I reached that point a long time ago.  All that “thinking” and not enough “doing” just creates turmoil and prevents me from living authentically.  Who cares which is “better” – having a habit or not, challenging myself or accepting myself?  All can exist at once.  What matters is what I actually do and what works for me as I reach for the life I want.

And on that note, here’s some of the more "practical" stuff going on with me right now:

My Green Card situation is moving along, impressively quickly for the USCIS.  As I mentioned in my last post, my GC was set to expire on July 30 and USCIS has extended it for a year to allow them time to process my application.  That means I can still work and travel without a problem but they won't issue me a new card until they're done processing my paperwork.  I need to carry the letter of extension with me along with my GC to prove my GC is still valid.  I already have an appointment in Buffalo next week for my biometrics, which is totally normal and expected.  This will be maybe the fifth or sixth time I’ve had to give USCIS my fingerprints, photograph and signature.  They ask for those every step of the way through the process. 

My cold is gone but I now have a pretty bad sunburn after spending Sunday outside all day at the air show.  It just kind of snuck up on me...it wasn't even that hot or sunny outside!  And I was wearing a hat, sunglasses, sunblock…but I had on a deep v-neck t-shirt and sat in the same spot watching demonstrations for a couple of hours.  Two hours after I got home, I realized my chest/neck, face and arms were extremely red and sore.  Ouch. I’m sure I’ll start to peel soon and won’t that be attractive.

My last blog post had double the readers of my previously highest read blog post.  Weird.  I find it kind of interesting to watch my blog stats and I often wonder why some posts do better than others.   It can't be the topic or the quality of the writing because people would still have to click on the post to know that.  Maybe it has to do with when I post or the lyrics I choose for the title…?  No idea.  I have readers from 15 countries, which kind of shocks me but it's pretty cool!

Dana, my trainer, has given me a new “walking” challenge this month of 15 miles.  Last month it was 10 and I easily did way more than that.  That’s basically my warm up miles….the time I spend on the treadmill, elliptical or rowing machine before my actual workouts with her.    I’ve also upped my training time with her from 30 minutes 3 times per week to 45 minutes 3 times per week.  And I still go on the off days and work out myself.   I want to do 6 days a week (the gym closes at 7pm on Fridays and by the time I get out of work, there is just not enough time, or I'd make it 7 days a week), but it usually ends up being 5 days a week (I sleep in on Sunday and the gym closes at noon).  I am definitely feeling a difference and seeing a difference on the scale.  This former couch potato is all in on the exercise thing….I’m a believer.

Next week I’m going to my first live boxing match at the Armory and I’m super excited about that.  I watch them on TV all the time but Dana says they are very different live.  I believe it too, ‘cos I felt that way when I went to see the Jets play live a few years ago.  I admit I am not a huge football fan.  I’ll watch it and try and figure out what’s going on, but I find it really boring in comparison to, say…hockey.  But Sam is a huge fan, so when we took a trip to NYC in 2008, we went to see a game and it was a LOT of fun.  I really enjoyed it quite a bit……It was almost worth the $700/ticket price!  But it was much more exciting than watching it on TV so I’m expecting the same from this boxing match.

The plans for my tattoos are really taking shape and I’m super excited to get the first one done.  The first, I mentioned previously, will be built around the words "True Grit".  After my last post I worked more on the sketch and scrapped the idea of the Italian version because I've  got some Italian in my second design, which will be a sleeve or half sleeve on my right arm, and honestly I didn't like the closest Italian translations I could find.  But my True Grit tattoo is going to include all kinds of elements like a barbell, Felix's face, a reference to Canada and the US and a vine-like design with stars and flowers.  It sounds weird, I know, I'm really excited by the picture I drew of it, and it's still going to be on my left forearm. 

Also in the works…my first ever motorcycle ride!  I am nervous as hell.  But kinda excited too.

Finally, I have been thinking for a while about getting a second job.  I really want the extra money so I can save more for when Sam finally kicks me out of his house.  I still haven’t decided if I’ll buy a house, rent or what, but one thing I do know is I’m gonna need money.    I didn’t want to start looking for another job until my Green Card got extended.  I knew I could find something pretty fast so it just didn’t make sense to even look if I couldn’t present documentation to show I can still legally work here. 

But while I was at my brother’s three day birthday party in Canada at the beginning of August, I met an American friend of his who is married to a Canadian girl.  So he’s going through the Canadian immigration process and we compared notes.  Surprisingly, the immigration process seems very similar in Canada and the US.  He lives in Toronto and he’s at the point right now where he can’t legally work in Canada.  He told me about how he ghostwrites as a way of making some money.  How it works is he belongs to a few American agencies.  Companies hire these agencies to write articles for them whenever they need a written piece for a trade magazine or whatever.  The company gives the agency a page of facts or statements they want included in the piece and the agency gives it to one of their freelance writers to write the piece.  The writer gives the piece back to the agency when they’re done and the agency makes sure it meets their standards.  If it does, they pay the writer $100.  My brother’s friend says he is a slow writer, as am I, but that he can write several such pieces in one week.  It’s not the kind of money he can make doing his real job when he’s allowed to work in Canada but for now it gives him some money and it's all done online through American companies so he's not breaking any rules for his immigration claim.

I was, of course, very excited to hear about this.  I had resigned myself to the idea of working my nights and weekends in a call center to make extra cash…..but it would be amazing if instead I could write and get paid for it.  My own hours, work from home (or frankly, wherever I want with my laptop) and I get to do something I really like doing.  Perfect.  So I applied to all the agencies he told me about and some others I found online too and now I’m hoping one or more of them will take me on.  I’ll keep y’all posted.

That's all for now, folks.  Until next time....

Quotes I Find Inspiring Right Now (and maybe you will too...):

• “Accepting oneself does not preclude an attempt to become better.” - Flannery O’Connor
• "Discovering who we are involves learning the difference between accidental limitations which it is our duty to outgrow and the necessary limitations of our nature beyond which we cannot trespass with impunity.” - W.H. Auden
• “The present changes the past.  Looking back, you do not find what you left behind.” – Kiran Desai
• “What’s terrible is to pretend that second rate is first rate.” – Doris Lessing
• “It’s never too late to be what you might have been.” – George Eliot
• “Don’t limit your challenges, challenge your limits.”  - Jerry Dunn
• “You have to expect things of yourself before you can do them.” – Michael Jordan
• “Excellence is not a singular act, but a habit.  You are what you repeatedly do.”  – Shaquille O’Neal
• “I am always doing that which I cannot do, so that I may learn how to do it.”  – Pablo Picasso
• “Give the world the best you have and the best will come back to you.”  –Marilyn Bridges
• “Adventure is worthwhile in itself.” – Amelia Earhart

"Show 'Em Whatcha Got." - Public Enemy

Right now I have a cold.  I can’t breathe from my nose.  I can’t sleep.  Lots of sneezing.  Can’t taste anything.  You get the drift.  When the back of my throat started to hurt on Monday, I thought I could work really hard at the gym and sweat it out, but that didn’t work.  I sweated twice as hard but accomplished less than usual ‘cos my body was just not feeling it.  Tried again Tuesday and my body basically said “FU, watch this”, then Wednesday I woke up late for work after a restless night with my phone alarm going off in my ear and a full blown cold……the kind where people look at you like you have two heads and wonder why the hell you are out in public.  And it’s stuck around.  It’s Friday and I’ve still got it.  I never get sick like this so I really thought I could just ignore it and it would go away, but no such luck.

But hey – my hair has stopped falling out!   Praise Jesus!  (Just kidding.  No, it did stop falling out but I don't praise Jesus.)  And it has started to become necessary for me to retire many of my clothes.  This is a kind of overwhelming project…to sort through my clothes.  I have a lot of clothes.  A LOT, a lot.  And I have always liked loose, flowy clothes so I’m not the best judge of what I should keep and what is just plain too big.  After trying and failing to sort through them all in one shot, I decided to take a different approach.  Now whenever I put something on and I clearly cannot wear it anymore, I automatically put it in the donation bag that sits in my room.  I have already filled up 3 garbage bags.  If anyone knows someone who needs women's plus sized clothes, please contact me.

March 2012 - My highest weight ever.  Never going back.

This approach doesn’t always work.  A couple weeks ago I went to my friend Rick’s place and I was carrying a bunch of stuff up to his apartment.  Both hands were full and my jeans started to fall down.  By the time I got up the four flights of stairs to his place, my jeans were down at my ankles. I’m not kidding….I had no pants on!  And I had just walked up four flights of stairs carrying many things and I could still breathe enough to laugh hysterically about it!   It was awesome.   I had just put on those jeans right out of the dryer so it’s not like they were stretched out from multiple wears.  So I had to accept that even though they were my favourite jeans, it was time to say goodbye to them.  I’m sure I will have many more favourite jeans before this deal is done.

On July 6, it was 6 months since my gastric sleeve surgery.  I didn’t even notice.  Rick sent me a text wishing me a happy surgiversary, as they call it in the weight loss surgery community, and I momentarily enjoyed the good wishes and positive energy he sent to me, and then I started to PANIC.  Shouldn’t I have made more progress by now?    Shouldn’t I have lost more weight?  I’m due for my six months follow up…. How could I not even notice?  I’m a terrible weight loss surgery patient, I don’t follow rules and therefore I’m a terrible person. 

That’s how I think.  For me, it’s not a big leap from happiness to soul crushing unhappiness.  I can get there in two minutes flat.  I’m sure it must be somewhat amusing and/or frustrating to those observing from a distance that I can take ANY situation and spin in so it’s not only negative but that it must also somehow be my fault that things went wrong.  I ALWAYS internalize everything.  Something around me goes wrong, it must be my fault.  There must be something wrong with me.  And the thing is….I KNOW I’m doing this.  I just can’t stop doing it.  I don’t know what’s wrong me……Ha!

Before I had my surgery, I thought nothing is going to come before my weight loss efforts…that the surgery and the “journey” afterwards were going to be my number one priorities for the entire year and I wouldn’t focus on anything else.    Nothing could distract me from it. 

Man, I was SO wrong.  There are distractions and stress everywhere.   And I don’t know if I just thought I would live in a bubble for a year after my surgery and that’s all I would have to think about or what but the last month or so has been really stressful, really hard for me.  There’s a lot going on and I’m kind of a mess about it all.   I have found it difficult to talk about or even admit to myself because I know that every single person I know is rooting for me in this weight loss journey and because of that, I don’t want to admit when things are going bad or I screw up or whatever.  I feel like I can only talk about the great stuff – and there is a lot of great stuff.  I don’t want to let anyone down and I don’t want to be a failure.  I don’t want anyone to go, "oh we knew she couldn’t do it.  I don’t know why she won’t just accept herself the way she is.”  I don’t even feel like I can talk about these struggles with other weight loss surgery patients because it seems like everyone else just sails through the first year and drops all their weight like a hot potato.  Not me – I am fighting for every pound.  It is certainly not dropping off.  And my "everything is fine" veneer is cracking big time.

Some of the stressful stuff going on in my world:

•  Watching Sam move on – really move on and get totally serious about a new woman – has been way harder than I thought it would be.  I don’t think I expected to be “replaced” so easily and so quickly.  I really, really wanted to be totally cool, just like Sam’s ex was to me when I entered Sam’s life, but I just can’t yet.  Sam has been my best friend for the last 7 years and suddenly that’s gone.  It’s just not there anymore.  I had to detail for USCIS our entire relationship and writing that all out made me so incredibly sad.  Even though I know it’s right for both of us, I feel like a failure for not being able to make the relationship work.
•   I’m experiencing some health issues that have nothing to do with weight loss surgery.  Because of these health issues I have to go for my first mammogram and get a bunch of ultrasounds.  I’ve dealt with medical issues before, obviously, but these health concerns are all centered around my various lady parts and that’s extremely distressing to me.
•   My friendship with Rick has completely ended and I am so very sad about that.  Rick was one of the few friends I had here in Rochester who was not also connected to Sam in some way and he’s been a huge emotional support for me since before my surgery.  The way it ended brought up all kinds of baggage for me about who I tell myself I am…selfish, a liar, a destroyer of people.  Those thoughts have been a struggle to control.
•   The health of one of our dogs has deteriorated significantly.  She’s 14 and appears to now be deaf and blind and incontinent.  And she can’t really get around on her own very well either.  Lately she has been falling down the basement stairs if we aren’t watching her.  Seeing how dependent the little creature we used to call "the Anarchist" has become and watching her decline is really upsetting.
•    My Green Card is expiring on July 30 and I am big time freaking out about what’s going to happen now.  The USCIS issues Permanent Residents a 2 years conditional card when they first enter the country.  The condition is I am married to a US Citizen.  That’s why I was allowed to enter the country.  I have applied to remove the conditions and for them to issue me a 10 year unconditional Green Card.    But with my marriage being all but legally over, I don't know what to expect now.   It could be a year before the situation is resolved, but in the meantime my current GC will be extended for a year so I can still travel and work.  I am almost positive my case will at the very least be looked at closer and both Sam and I will get pulled in for an interview which will delay the process even longer.  I have no idea if we can begin divorce proceedings during this process or not.  The outcome of it is what has me worried though.  If my case officer decides Sam and I didn’t have a real relationship, they will deport me.  If they deport me, they could also ban me for the rest of my life from the country.  That is the worst case scenario, and that is pretty bad.

(BTW - As a far as I’m concerned, after USCIS is done with me, if I am allowed to stay in the US, I should be considered fully vetted and beyond reproach by anyone in this country.  This process has been completely invasive.  There is nothing the United States government doesn’t know about me.  Whether you immigrate from Canada or Iraq, the exact same process applies.  The US government has seen all my financial and medical records several times,  done extensive background checks on me, asked for multiple references who are willing to provide information about me under oath if asked, done completely invasive medical testing – including a strip search – on me and they know the details of my private life.    So I’m feeling pretty self-righteous.  If I am allowed to stay in this country, no future employer, future friend, future landlord or future partner should ever feel at all hesitant about me or question my integrity.  The fact that I successfully and legally immigrated to the US is all the proof I need that I am trustworthy.  No joke.)
•    Work.  I don’t even want to go into this, but I think it’s time for me to move on and this has been a source of tension for me for a while.  I was distracted by my surgery enough that I didn’t care before but now that I’m well into my surgery journey, it’s a problem and it’s stressing me out.

In case I didn’t explicitly say it, right now at this point of my journey I do feel like I’m in a pretty dark place.  The gym is really the only place where I feel in control, completely comfortable, confident, and relaxed.  Every other thing in my life right now has me on edge and I feel really isolated. 

As a result, I have felt myself reverting back to old behaviours, like eating and casual sex to make me feel better.  The cool thing is I could see what I was doing without any analysis on my part.  I really didn’t have to look very hard …it was obvious to me that I was looking for comfort with food and sex.  I bought the damned Golden Oreos and devoured the entire package in 3 days.  And when it was gone I thought, well do you feel better now?  The answer was, of course, no.  And did that guy who didn’t even remember your name make you feel better?  As if.  How about the other guy who knew your name and humoured you enough to talk to you but also clearly didn’t give a shit about you…did HE make you feel better?  Etc.

(Dear Laura:  Fuck you.  I get it, now shut up about it.  Love, me.)

So yeah I reverted back to those behaviours but it was controlled.  I knew what I was doing and stopped myself before it became more than a package of cookies or a few casual encounters.  I’m not justifying what I did but I’m saying that I’m learning.  I’m growing.  I'm onto my own games.  I screwed up and I’m ok about it.  I know it was a problem and I’m not out of the woods yet.  I am considering giving Jessica a call. 

I think the challenge for me is navigating the very fine line between self-destructive behavior and pleasure.  I have always thought of myself as a hedonist…..someone who devotes their life to the pursuit of pleasure.  For as long as I can remember, pleasure has been a priority for me and I never saw anything wrong with that and I really don’t want to change that.  Pleasure is the ultimate high for me and I’ll do what I have to do to get there….even if it’s humiliating, even if I’m scared, even if I need to suspend my common sense or intelligence.  For me, there is something valuable in the experience of the pursuit of pleasure.  Experiencing pleasure is a revelation, it’s a religious experience, and it’s mind-altering.   A life without pleasure seems so dull. 

But many of the things that give me pleasure are also the things I use to self-destruct.  I can’t completely eliminate food and sex from my life, and it is a real challenge for me to treat these things “moderately” and with respect.  Treating food that way has become a lot easier for me since my surgery.  I know if I, for example, get 4 beautiful scallops and perfectly sear them and eat them with a side of spinach for dinner, that I’m treating myself well and giving myself pleasure.  Sex is another story.  When you don’t have a partner you are committed to, sex is a tricky deal and the line between pleasure and self-destruction is blurry.  You can start an experience off with the best intentions and try to make it about pleasure but if your partner isn’t about that, then it can turn self-destructive FAST.  Most casual partners don't give a shit about your needs, your process, your wish for pleasure.  Even if they say and think they do, they really don't.

One of the things I worked with my therapist on was the idea of living through feelings of discomfort.  Any feelings of discomfort, for any reason.  For whatever reason, I never learned to handle "feelings"....I knew anger and happiness.  That's it.  So my response to any unpleasant feeling has always been to automatically get angry and eat so I feel better and whatever uncomfortable feeling there was just goes away.  Jessica and I talked a lot about mindfulness and acknowledging the uncomfortable feeling and just allowing it to exist while still getting on with the rest of the day.

It occurred to me this week that working out with my trainer has also given me some amazing skills for handling discomfort.  When I think back to when I first started with her, man - was I a whiner.  Yeah I kept going back but I didn’t think I could do anything, I didn’t want to try anything, I didn’t want to sweat, I didn’t want to hurt, I didn’t want anyone to see me working out.  One day, Dana - my trainer - told me, “girl you need to develop some mental toughness!”.  I’ll tell you what, I nearly punched her right in the face.  I was so insulted that this perky 26 year old girl who had dedicated her life to being fit and has never experienced true hardship had the guts to tell me I wasn’t tough.  It was only months later that I could understand where that comment was coming from and I had to agree.

I’m not sure how or when the toughness transformation happened but it happened at some point during the last two months.     Dana told me a few times that during a good workout you get tired, then feel pain, then numbness, and if you push through all that then you’re ok and you can just keep going.  I thought she was crazy….surely only crazy people think like that, but she was right.  I don’t complain anymore or say no to anything she has me do.  If she asks if I want a lighter weight or a heavier one, I always pick the heavier one.  I never stop when she tells me I’m allowed to stop, I always go a few reps more just so I know I’m pushing that little extra.  I don’t want to feel like I’m doing the bare minimum.  I deserve more than the bare minimum.  In fact, I’ve upped my 60 minute workouts to 5 days a week, and Dana gave me a walking challenge of 10 miles for the month of July and I’ve already blown way past that with 5 days to go.  And........she made me run one day last week.  Run! 

I’m never sore or tired the day after a workout.  This baffles her.  She is convinced now I just won’t admit that I’m sore and tired so she tries to break me by working me harder and harder each time.  I’m grateful for her determination and I push myself but I just am not sore or tired the next day.   Last night I did a mile on the treadmill to warm up like I usually do.  (Actually, sometimes I row instead.)  Then I did:  100 squats with 15 pound weights; 100 push presses with 15 pound weights; 75 two-hand swings with 15 pound weights; 25 leg lifts; 25 flutters; 125 jabs with 5 pound weights; 125 power hand with 5 pound weights; and 100 rapid fires with 5 pound weights.  I was so sore and so tired when I was done.  Today I don’t hurt and I’m not tired.

It was hard and it hurt like hell but it also felt amazing.....exhilarating!  The whole point last night was to do as many reps of each thing as I could possibly do before I felt like I would die and honestly I could have done more of each (except the leg lifts and flutters – I really need to work on abs!) but I wanted to keep moving.  Each time I started the next exercise, after a few reps, I really wanted to stop……I started to get tired very quickly.  But then Dana started talking to me and I found after awhile I was automatically going with the momentum of the movement and not even noticing the pain even though it was still there.  Working through the discomfort.  Accepting it and allowing myself to feel it without trying to push it away.

This is all new to me ‘cos I'm pretty much a spoiled princess.  Always have been and I know it.  A princess who is obsessed with black, who listens to Lords of Acid and has no interest in finding a prince who will rescue her……but still, a princess all the same.  I want what I want when I want it and I usually get it.  I have no patience.  I don't wait.  I have to work hard for anything.  I’m permissive with myself and expect other people to be also.  These are not my best qualities.  I’m not proud to have these qualities.  I don’t think, “oh well that’s the way I am so I’m just going to accept myself.”

I have always simultaneously loved and hated people who say no to me.  The 10 year old kid in me who has no impulse control hates people who say no to me, because……. how dare you say no to me!  Indignant outrage!  The woman in me really respects people who say no to me.  Thank you for caring enough to say no, thank you for being stronger than me, thank you for providing some stability to my pandemonium.  It kind of makes me feel safe when people tell me no.  When people tell me yes, I feel like I’m in control of the world and that scares the shit out of me.   In spite of how bossy I appear, I don’t want to be in control of the world.  I just want to be a bossy smart ass.

A few nights ago at the gym I met a guy who had gastric bypass surgery (a different kind of weight loss surgery than what I had) in Mexico.  He developed a very nasty infection afterwards and he almost died.  He was in ICU for four months…he just got out.  Talking to him about his experience made me feel incredibly grateful for mine and made me realize that it really is about time for me to start saying no to myself.  No, I don’t “deserve” the package of Golden Oreos because I’ve been working so hard.  What I  deserve is to love myself enough to say no to the Golden Oreos.  No, I don’t “have” to have a piece of cake because it’s someone’s big night.  No, I don’t get to “treat” myself by skipping the gym tonight.  And no, this dude who doesn’t give a shit about me is not going to give me the night of my life, so don’t expect he will and hate myself when he doesn’t. 

"Dare to Be Me", by Janet Visser



I’m not sure I ever talked about what I want to do for my first tattoo.  I was actually going to get it done a month ago but instead bought a piece of art called “Dare to Be Me”.  I’m completely mesmerized by this piece and it seemed more important to my journey at that moment than the tattoo did.  What this piece says to me is I am a work in progress and the end result is me...... the real me.  Whatever path I take, it contributes to who I am, but that I always need to be brave enough to make the choices that are true to myself.  It’s a mixed media piece so it says to me there is no one “thing” I am.    It was created using paint, pages from a magazine, pen….it isn’t just one medium.  And that’s me too.  I’m a complicated and bold collage and I’m beautiful and growing into the person I am by making the right choices for who I am.  Usually I just buy pieces that are beautiful for the sake of their beauty.  This one is beautiful, but it has special meaning to me also.

In any case, now it’s time for the tattoo.  My original thought for the tattoo was “True Grit”….the words spelled out with some sort of design.  Then I got the idea to use an Italian version as a nod to my grandmother, who was probably the grittiest woman I knew.  So I came up with a few variations:  Vero Grinta; Vero Grana; or Vero Coraggio.  I haven’t decided which I want to use yet.  But the idea of “True Grit” is something I need right now.  I want to put this tattoo on the underside of my left forearm so I can see it all the time and be reminded of it. This concept came up during a session with Jessica where we talked about the idea of being selfish and what it means to be selfish.  She talked with me about how making choices for yourself, even if they are choices that others don’t agree with, is not selfish…it’s determination.  She helped me see the word “selfish” – which has always been a real sore spot for me – in a new light.  After the month I’ve had, it’s time for some true grit, pronto.

Random Stuff:

·        I can’t write while I listen to music.  It’s one or the other.  In fact, I am just bad at multi-tasking in general.  Two stimulants happening at the same time is just way too much for me.  I forget what I’m doing.

·        I’ve had inner ear problems since I was a kid.  I experience vertigo on a pretty regular basis.

·        My dad was an amateur race car driver when I was a kid.  I grew up at racetracks and I still get kind of a thrill at a track.

·        When my dad raced, he picked up the habit of shimmying the car back and forth while driving and he still does it.  If he’s driving on a highway and I’m in the car with him, I am completely nauseous the entire time.

·        Like most girls, I love horses.  But I hate horse racing. 

·        I like driving fast.  A lot.  There are certain spots where it is a lot of fun….on the 490 going into Rochester across the bridge, around the curves and past Monroe.  I am always really sad when there’s too much traffic I can’t pass anyone there. 

·        I’ve gotten more speeding tickets since I moved to the States (not even 3 years ago) than I have in all the time I drove in Canada (25 years)!  It feels like the cops here are more interested in traffic violations than they are in doing anything about violent crime.

“Something's Happening and it's Happening Right Now..” – The Stranglers

When I started this blog, my plan was to have photographs accompany the written word….of me, starring my body.  But I knew I did not want the typical “Before and After” photos…I wanted to have some sense of dignity, creativity and beauty even with my “Before” photos. 

Every weight loss surgery patient takes “Before” pictures, apparently.  Even the hospital staff asked me after my surgery if I had taken my “Before” pictures and told me I have to…I’ll regret it if I don’t.  When I told them I hadn’t, they asked me several times if I wanted them to take some for me.  I refused each and every time and they were completely dumbfounded as to why.

My thinking was I really don’t need more tragic images of what I looked like at my heaviest weight etched into my brain or anyone else’s brain…there are already plenty of “Before” photos all over my Facebook page and my memories of being 374 pounds are pretty much branded into my psyche.  I doubt I could ever forget what I looked like or how it felt to weigh that much.  The idea of standing there in my hospital gown, with no makeup and bad hair, posing for pictures just so I could look back someday and see how far I’d come just seemed too humiliating to me.  I suppose I should also have a frown on my face in the pictures so I can look really, really bad?  No one needs to see that. 

I didn’t want my “Before” pictures to be this stark contrast where everyone is shocked at just how bad I looked “Before” and how amazing I look “After”.  That good vs. bad doesn’t interest me and that type of “Before” picture would have been a lie.  At 374 pounds, I still had good days.  I was still vain.  I did my hair and makeup and wore nice clothes…I cared about what I looked like.  And even that kind of picture of a dramatic physical transformation of the person wearing regular clothes doesn’t interest me.  What interests me is the person…what they went through, how they grew, how they changed, who they are, how they got through the physical transformation…..and I don’t think a regular old “Before” and “After” picture does that most of the time.

I also thought it would be much more interesting if the photos were cool….meaningful and artistic.  I imagined the photos to be a creative project, designed to be a complete visual story of me revealing myself as I lost weight.  The weight is a barrier between the world and the real me and as that barrier was torn down, I would be revealed for who I really am.  I wanted the pictures to be beautiful and erotic and interesting.  I wanted them to show me something about myself that I wasn’t seeing from just looking in the mirror.  So I asked my photojournalist friend Kris to take on the project.  She really wanted to do it but the timing didn’t work out with her planned trip around the world.  And honestly, I wasn’t as comfortable as I wanted to be with having half naked pictures of myself at 374 pounds published on my blog.

So I let the idea of photos fade.  But lately, I’ve been re-thinking it.  I don’t think it matters that I didn’t start taking the pictures at 374….I still have a long way to go and I’m not sure a picture of me at 374 and a picture of me now is really all that different.  I have entertained the idea of boudoir photo shoots…but who can afford that every month or two?  In my head, I’m re-styling the photos from the original plan – something less elaborate, less staged, more stripped down and raw – but I still want the end result I originally envisioned.  I think about just taking them myself as self-portraits but I think there is a lot of value in someone else taking them.  We only see what we want to see about ourselves.  I think I can reveal more, be more authentic, see more about myself with someone else taking the photos.  It might even be interesting to have someone different take the photo each time so I get many perspectives.  Or maybe I’m just putting way too much thought into this because I am completely self-absorbed.   I dunno….I’m still thinking about it.  But I know I need to stop thinking about it and do it before there’s no “Before” left to capture.  The fact that I’m so scared to do it makes me want to do it more.

After the high of my trip to NYC and the Corporate Challenge, I think I crashed a bit emotionally.  I’ve been feeling kind of low for the last week or so.  I found myself a bit short of cash and couldn’t afford to pay my trainer or to pay my monthly gym membership, so I didn’t go for 10 days.  I was already feeling kind of crappy about my hair falling out and the lack of exercise didn’t help my mental state, but something weird did happen.  I lost at least a pound, sometimes more, every single day during those 10 days.  I kept thinking it was a fluke…there was no way it could be happening.  But it did.  Every single day I stepped on the scale at the same time, wearing the same thing, expecting this to be the day the scale went back up again, but it never did.

It was the first time the scale had moved in a long time, which got me thinking about what a head trip this whole “journey” is.  You think you’re doing everything right and feel great, but the scale doesn’t reflect it.  When you weigh 374 pounds, you have to lose a lot of weight before anyone even notices.  People notice you look different but can’t quite put their finger on how.  I feel that way when I look in the mirror too.  I also can’t trust my clothes to show me how I’m doing.  When you’re a “normal” weight, 10 pounds is a whole size.  When you’re my size, 10 pounds is nothing.  I’ve lost 90 pounds since 374 and I still wear the same clothes.  Even looking at old pictures doesn’t do it for me….I think I still look the same.   It can be discouraging.  It can be difficult to keep a positive attitude about the whole thing.    

So I felt it was a good time to stop and reflect on many of the positive changes since last year…..things that are worth celebrating that have nothing to do with the number on the scale.  In the weight loss surgery community, these are called Non-Scale Victories (NSVs) and they are acknowledged to be as important, if not more, than the number on the scale.  Just a few of the NSVs I’ve noticed recently are:

·         My BMI has dropped 15 points.
·         My left foot and leg were ALWAYS swollen and numb a year ago.  Now they never are.
·         I’ve walked my first 5K and am signed up to walk another in Fall.
·         I can roller skate again.  A year ago, I couldn’t even stand on skates.
·         I can wear heels again.  A year ago I couldn’t.
·         Rings that did not fit me a year ago now fit on my middle finger.
·         I bought a pair of motorcycle boots a year ago online and when I got them they were uncomfortably tight.  Now they fit. 
·         The seatbelt in my car fits me very comfortably now whereas it did not fit me at all a year ago.
·         I could not tilt down my steering wheel in my car at all last year because my belly was completely in the way.  Now I can tilt it all the way down.
·         I can stand for several hours now.  A year ago I couldn’t stand for 20 minutes without needing to sit down.

I notice NSVs on a daily basis now.  For example, just going into Macy's to pick up something from the cosmetics counter.  Last year that was a major big deal.  I couldn't walk from the parking lot to MAC without stopping several times.  And even when I did stop, my back was aching by the time I got to the counter.  If I had to stand around and wait for help, I got so angry 'cos every second of standing was pure torture by that point.  Today, I can easily walk to the MAC counter from the parking lot, stand around and wait for help, shoot the breeze with the cosmetician, walk back to my car and I'm fine.  There's nothing remarkable about it....which just makes me want to cry 'cos it's so freaking amazing.

I get a ton of NSVs at work on a daily basis.  This is really on mind right now because next week I’m spending the week in Canandaigua for work.  It’s my company’s National Sales Meeting.  It happens every year in the Rochester area somewhere, and this year it’s happening at a hotel on the lake.  All the Sales guys from across the country fly into town for the week and we’re on the go pretty hard from 7am ‘til well into the night with meetings, training and social events.  Canandaigua is maybe 30 minutes from where I live, but because of the crazy schedule, everyone stays at the hotel, even people from the area.

I’ve been with my company for just over 2 years but I started in Operations, not Sales…..during my first year, I wasn’t involved in the NSM.  Last May I moved to the Sales team just as the NSM was happening and my new boss wanted me to be a part of it even though I wasn’t officially in Sales yet.  So the NSM is a marker for me of sorts.  It would be very easy for me to consciously forget a lot of the last year, to just stay focused on now and enjoy all my NSVs.  The last year has been a bit of a blur dotted by some pretty unpleasant moments due in large part to my weight and my marriage not working.  So I’d love to forget about the last year, but my job won’t let me.

My company outgrew its office space well before I started working there.  To accommodate the growing business, the company took over the office space next to it, and then the space next to that…..until it ended up as it is now, which is a very long stretch of many office spaces that have been opened up, with Operations on one end and Sales on the other, with Engineering, Processing, Marketing, Finance, Contracts, Legal and a huge lobby, in between the two, and a long open corridor connecting everything.  It’s a trek from one end of the building to the other and generally, people don’t cross over into other departments unless they have to for some reason. 

When I applied for the Sales position last year, I weighed 374 pounds.  I had a very difficult time walking the distance from Operations to Sales.  I had two interviews for the position and then also needed to walk down to sign my offer letter.  I had to stop twice on the way to catch my breath and get myself together so I didn’t feel embarrassed by how sweaty or tired I was when I got to my new boss' office.  I certainly did not want anyone to start walking beside me or talk to me because not only could I not keep up with them but I also couldn’t talk while walking.  I didn’t really know anyone from Sales and I was desperate to hide how hard it was for me to walk that distance.  I mean, yeah it’s a hike….but it’s still the same building.  Most people can walk it without any trouble.  Last year I couldn't.  Now I can.  In fact, I walk that every day a couple times for no work related reason.  I do it because I can.  Because I like to get up from my desk and go visit people.  Every time I do, I think about how I felt last year making that long walk...the walk that felt like I would die before I got there. 

Anyway, we actually had two NSM’s last year…one in June at the Radisson in downtown Rochester while Spiderman was being filmed, and the other in October in Grand Rapids, MI at the same hotel and at the same time as the IAAO conference.    Both were huge eye openers for me.

Because Spiderman was being filmed right around the hotel, it was quite frustrating to even get to the hotel.  Finding parking was even worse.  I ended up parking on the roof of the hotel parking garage, which meant I needed to carry my luggage down several flights of stairs.  Then go in a service door and then up again a few more flights of stairs to get to the main lobby.  By the time I got to the front desk, I was a mess.  Sweaty, back aching, swollen feet, legs giving out.  I was certainly not the picture of cool, calm and in control like the guys I work with who are all very tall, very handsome, fit and confident.  I needed to lie down in my room for a while before I was ready to face them. 

I had the same issues throughout both NSMs.  I did not want to face the possible humiliation of flying so I insisted on driving to Grand Rapids while everyone else flew.  I couldn’t stand for longer than 20 minutes so I skipped parties with customers.  I had a hard time walking from meeting room to meeting room.  I couldn’t walk to restaurants outside the hotel (I could barely walk to anywhere inside the hotel) so I didn’t join while everyone else went to dinner, which meant I had to confess to my boss and my boss’ boss.  It was total humiliation to talk about this with them but they were sympathetic and accommodating.     The CEO made a completely inappropriate fat joke in front of the entire Sales group and other executives and that turned into a huge, public deal centered around me.  I spent both NSMs feeling completely humiliated.

The great news is I know none of that is going to happen this time.  Not only because physically I am in a much stronger place.  But also because mentally I am too. 

It occurred to me a couple of days ago that in terms of weight, I am almost down to where I was at my lowest point with the lap band.  I’m feeling healthier and more confident than I have in years, I have my mobility back, my back never hurts anymore, and I am more and more ok with how I look and feel every day.  On a very basic level, I’m pretty much living a life of quality again.  I thought about this for a few minutes while I unloaded the dishwasher…..then a bit of panic set in.  It’s difficult to let the past go.  I remember feeling this way when I had the lap band and it all came crashing down.

I have heard a lot of weight loss surgery patients talk about their fear of gaining back all the weight they lost….everyone has that fear, and for good reason.  I am especially paranoid of that since I allowed it to happen to me.  Yes…I allowed it.  It didn’t just happen by accident.

The realization that I am in a good place right now made me really happy…..but not nearly as happy as truly appreciating that I have the control in this situation.  It’s all on me.  My success, my failure, whether I continue to lose, or start to gain, how I react to the things that happen in my world.  I have to own every pound I lose, every pound I gain, every fat joke I hear and react to, every bit of humiliation, every bit of confidence and doubt.  It all comes from me.  I can really take a lesson from all the Sales guys I work with (and yes they are all guys, except one.  Out of 60 people in Sales, 5 of us are women.).  What makes them feel they are entitled to so much?  I’m going to spend the week letting all that confidence rub off on me.  I’m entitled to it too.

In other news, the Felix saga continues.  Apparently a bunch of kids who live on the street by my gym have made it their personal mission to try and catch the cat so they can collect the reward I have promised to anyone who returns Felix to me unharmed.  I have explained to several mothers that if this cat is indeed Felix, it would not be wise of them to try and physically handle him.  He’s a spirited guy who does not like to be picked up…he’s gotten me good more than once.  So they are coming up with all sorts of ridiculous plans to catch him without actually touching him….which makes me a little bit concerned for this poor cat. 

A woman the street over my gym also called me and said she has out a humane trap with food for the cat because he sometimes goes up on her front porch.  And the guy who works night shift at the gas station beside my gym says he always sees that cat hanging around the dumpster.  So this cat is definitely staying in the immediate area of my gym.  After I get back from National Sales, I’ll step up my late night/early morning search. 

Random Stuff:

·         I love being woken up by a bird symphony.  Even if it's 5am.  Even if it's the weekend.  Even if I just went to bed 2 hours earlier.  Even if the windows are open and the there are hundreds of birds and the sound is so loud it’s overwhelming.  All the better.  It’s such a happy sound it makes me smile no matter what.

·         I am obsessed with Restoration Hardware.  I want to decorate my entire house with their gorgeous furniture.

·         I love soggy French fries.  No joke…..I seriously love soft, limp French fries.

·         I make killer scrambled eggs.   And then I put ketchup on them.

·         I won’t order scrambled eggs in a restaurant ‘cos I know they’ll just screw them up.  That also goes for any kind of pasta dish and crab cakes

·         I have a weird thing about trucks.  I spend more time than a person who does not have a truck should spend thinking about all the things I could do with a truck.  For instance, I dream about sleeping in the bed of a truck looking up at the stars, listening to all the creatures around me, or turning the bed of my truck into a makeshift hot tub.

·         Other people’s hot tubs creep me out.  I just can’t soak in a hot tub with a bunch of other people.  If I had my own hot tub, I certainly wouldn’t let anyone else use it. 

·         I love Green eyes. 

·         I hate green peppers.  Or Red.  Or Yellow.  Or Orange. I don’t like peppers.