Showing posts with label roux-en y gastric bypass. Show all posts

[Far Away, Nickelback]

Truth time.

I'm sitting here watching The Biggest Loser, and I'm sobbing.  Not a little teary eyed.  Tears streaming down my face SOBBING.  The thing is... I have a lot of thoughts so I am breaking this into two parts.

Part I

I'm not sure what it is, exactly.  I mean, I've seen... 4 of the seasons?  I've been encouraged and heartbroken and inspired and convicted before, but tonight it just hit me-- I'm killing myself.  Literally killing myself.  Every time I eat something that I shouldn't, every "one more bite" or "just a little bit won't be that many calories and it takes 3,500 to make a pound" and every other sick excuse I make is one more step toward my grave.

I've been thinking more and more about public perception of fat people, morbidly obese people.  I'm not talking about the person battling a pesky 10 or 15 or even 50 pounds- I'm talking about people who are at least 100 pounds overweight, or, in my case, 210 pounds overweight.  We are ridiculed.  We are seen as disgusting.  There are people who literally wish people as fat as I am would die because they are so visually  assaulted when I am in their range of view.

Ricky Gervais, the creator of the original Office (you know, the British one), has recently come under both praise and fire (though quite a lot of praise, which is sad) for his comments basically calling fat people "lazy f-----g pigs" who are too lazy to "go for a run".  It's self-deprecating, because he also says that he's too fat and maybe it people would quit being so politically correct and just call him fatty then maybe it would shame him into losing some weight.  You can read the article if you want, but that pretty much sums it up.

A simple Google search will reveal oodles of forums where people essentially say things ranging from "leave fat people alone" to reiterating the idea that all fat people should just die.  And you know what?  It sucks.  It sucks that my humanity is reduced to the size of my ass.  It sucks that there are people who literally feel hate in their heart when they see me because I'm so fat.

You know, though, I need not worry so much about what they think.  Truly, Jesus Christ judges hearts and I am not even remotely responsible for what other people think of me.  I can't concern myself with that.  What sucks more than any of that are all of the limitations I put on myself.

If I'm being truly honest with you, and forgive the play on words here, my efforts to lose weight recently have been half-assed.  I haven't really been trying that hard.  I cling to the fact that I eat better than I did a year ago, that I am more active, and I'm frustrated that I weigh the same.  But I need to pull my head out because I am not actually trying and I need to stop BS'ing myself- I have to take this seriously.

So why don't I?  I know what I want- to have a life, to be a better wife and to be able to be a mom and to not feel limited to hiding out in my house because being out in public is a: exhausting and b: too emotionally trying.  I say I want that but I don't do anything about it.

Even more truth: this morning I decided I need to start entering food into the Foode Log again. And... just about once an hour I decided not to do it.  And then I would log the food into an e-mail, and then by the end of work at 6 I was certain I would post it.  But then... while making dinner there weren't enough potatoes left for two meals worth but really too many for one meal... did I think, "Oh, I'll just make a healthy amount and save the rest for when we buy more"?

Of COURSE not.  I made- and we ate- them all.  Ridiculous.  But I then determined that I would not post the Foode Log because I don't want to be accountable.  I want to talk the talk of losing this weight but live my life the same way and keep killing myself because I love my idols of comfort and (false) security more than I love Jesus, more than I love my husband, more than I love anyone.  It's sad, too, because while gastric bypass may be the tool that spurs me on to losing this weight I've definitely seen a bit of a paradigm shift, mentally.  Thoughts like, "I may as well eat this because once I have gastric bypass I won't be able to so I should enjoy it now...." have crept in.  So I just stay here, caught in the middle... wanting to change but doing nothing about it.  Or, at very best, a nominal amount.

I do realize a major problem here, though- I am doing the typical "Christian" thing.  I want to wait until I feel inspired enough to be perfect, ready to make that commitment for real this time, and then I'll start letting myself be made accountable to everyone who reads my blog (and the number is growing by the day!).  But as I think about the Gospel- the real, true Gospel, where Jesus is perfect and I am constantly jacking things up but He chooses me, He cancels out my sin, He loves me, and He gives me the ability to be different, to rely on His Holy Spirit to no longer have to try and fix myself but to let Him transform me- I realize that I don't have to keep living this way.

I have been scared to "recommit", to make the big announcement that I'm going to get with it and be different.  I say scared because I fear failing again.  I keep saying, whilst on a spiritual / emotional high, that "This is it!  Really, guys, this time, this is it!", hoping that will be enough for me to finally actually follow through.  But that's not the Gospel.  It's not about me deciding to change and then, the second I realize yet again that I am not perfect, giving up.  The Gospel is Jesus deciding to work on me if I will let Him, and when I fail Him then allowing Him to pick me up and keep me going.

So... I'm going to suck up my pride, admit that I can't do this alone, and start being honest about what I am eating and how much and if I am exercising.  With that I have to work on my spiritual life, because a few times today I wanted to go eat and I thought, "Am I really hungry?  No?  Then Jesus, help me choose you and not food", and I didn't eat.  Other times I shoved those things aside and ate.  This is, as always, a spiritual battle.  It's not merely about "willpower" or "determining" to be different.  It's about believing Jesus Christ that He is fully satisfying, the Living Water that will quench my thirst and I'll never need to long for sewage water offered in ample supply by my idols ever again.

So... I know this is long, so thank you if you're still tracking, but my Foode Log is updated and I will do my best to rely on Jesus and keep allowing Him to teach me what it really means to live and love His Gospel of redeemed and changed life.  I appreciate prayers and support, and I hope that Jesus is the one who gets the glory.

Hasta, kids.

... but how do I feel this good sober?

[Sober, Pink]

So, the long awaited deep post... and prepare yo'self, because it will be long.  You know you love it ;)

As I pursue getting gastric bypass I know that the spiritual issues, the sin and the pain and the denial, must be dealt with.  I've said this before, but the surgery isn't a fix.  For one, I'm not hanging my hat on that post as a definitive weight loss method for myself until the docs roll me into a recovery room post-op.  Even if I have the surgery, some people don't lose as much weight as expected, and- I pray this isn't me- some have amazing results but then gain weight back, even with the metabolism changing procedures done with the surgery.

A worse option, and probably the most likely, is that I will simply replace my food addiction with another idol.  I'll find some other way to deal with my issues... the possibilities have no end, really, but it could be anything from gossip to this blog to exercise.  I know some people might think, "Well, hey, being addicted to exercise is better than killing yourself with food addiction!", but it's not.  Not really.

The issue is my heart- why do I do what I do?  What are my motives that spur me to action?  Directly intertwined with my heart is my worship identity.  My worship identity is, essentially, who I believe I am and what I believe gives me value (that's the identity part) and then how I seek acceptance and where I focus my time/talents/money/thoughts/etc based on that identity (that's the worship part).

To sum it all up, I worship, or put a lot of my energy into, things as a result of who I believe I am.  In turn, my motives, or heart, in all that I do are inextricably linked to what I worship based on where I find my significance.  Hopefully that's clear, because it's integral to all that I am about to spill forth.

A couple of weeks ago, actually I think three weeks ago exactly, when my husband and I were driving home from church, I really began to ruminate on these issues of heart and worship identity.  They are, really, the crux of relational Christian faith.  From my heart, please understand as you read this that I am not being preachy.  I am not trying to convert anyone.  I pray that somehow my flawed existence will be cloaked in humility from Jesus Christ and that it will speak to the longings that are in the souls of all who don't know Him, but I'm not gleefully wringing my hands and trying to estimate how many people I will proselytize with mere words on a webpage, and a blog at that.

With that said, I am going to get technical and it's going to be about my faith in Christ, but please don't just gloss over it- I'm going to get pretty personal, very raw and honest with where I am re: heart and worship identity, but the next few paragraphs are integral.  There are too many misconceptions about what Christianity is, and even if you are a Christian what I have to say to set up where I am going is crucial.  Don't skip it!

The fact is, much of what most of us think about the Christian faith- Christians included- really needs to be thrown out the window and started anew.  I alluded to some of this in my most recent post, but knowing Jesus isn't about asceticism (strict self-denial to feel spiritual, to "earn" God's favor) or hedonism (indulging in anything and everything simply because Christ forgives our sins so we're ok to do whatever we want); it's not about liturgy (following religious rituals and procedures); Christianity most certainly isn't about checklists and 12-step programs to holiness.  Really, Christianity isn't about us- humans, Christians- at all.  It's about surrendering our identity to Jesus Christ and seeking to be meek and humble.

Far too many Christians, myself the number one offender at the top of the list, get caught up in comparing ourselves with others, be they other Christians or non-Christians or what have you, so we can feel somehow more worthy of the grace that Jesus Christ offers free of charge, because He already paid the price.  The fact is, every single person ever born is a sinner, of whom I am the chief , and the only difference between a Christian and non-Christian is that a Christian has Jesus Christ's blood, His sinless blood shed on the crucifix, that allows them to be forgiven.

I love these verses, written by the apostle Paul:

12 I thank him who has given me strength, Christ Jesus our Lord, because he judged me faithful, appointing me to his service, 13 though formerly I was a blasphemer, persecutor, and insolent opponent. But I received mercy because I had acted ignorantly in unbelief, 14 and the grace of our Lord overflowed for me with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. 15 The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost. 16 But I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life. 17 To the King of ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. [I Timothy 1:12-17]

So, then, Christianity isn't about following the rules.  It is about obedience, to be certain- when God saves a person, delivers them from their impending damnation to hell for their sin, He sets them free from the bondage and death sin brings.  That said, God is not a capricious God, perched like a nosy neighbor at the window sill of Heaven and cackling like a contrived middle-school girl when we screw up.  We are sinners, we're jacked up, and God is loving and patient.  He gives us grace, boundless and infinite, and He equips us with the Holy Spirit to better be able to turn away from the sin that hurts us, hurts others, and ultimately hurts Him.  

James 4 hits on this perfectly- in it James reminds his readers, including me (and now you), that selfishness (sin) creates contention and strife, but that submitting to God in humility brings life.  When it talks about cleansing hands and purifying hearts, the scriptures are meant for people who have relationships with Jesus; these are meant to exhort Christians to prayerfully examine themselves by reading what the word of God (the Bible) has to say, to compare themselves only to Jesus and then to humbly ask Him, through the Holy Spirit, to change them to be more like Jesus.  This is the only way to find true peace and genuine contentment in life and in relationships with other people.

It's not about being perfect, punishing one's self for how far they are from perfection, or running around and telling people all of the things wrong with them; rather, true Christianity is about loving Jesus so much that He increases, the Christian decreases, and the beauty and wonder of the gift Jesus gave, the restoration of sinful man to a relationship with a Holy God, is made evident in all aspects of the Christian's life.  This is gospel living- the good news, that Jesus conquered death and life doesn't have to be so empty and hopeless, affects every part of the life of the Christian, from how she thinks to what she says and how she spends her time and money, how she treats other people, who she allows to have the ability to speak into her life, etc.

I cannot stress enough that nowhere in the Bible will you find "Jesus' 12-Steps to a Meaningful and Spiritual Life" or "Go to Bed Feeling Accomplished and Meaningful: The Christian's Daily Checklist".  Reading my Bible or praying or going to church is meant to spur me on, to keep the gospel alive and thriving in me, to keep me close to Jesus but it's not rules or regulations I must follow if I want to click on "Christian" when a webpage asks me what my religion is.  To be fair, I don't have a religion.  Religion is what man, humanity, does to try and attain spirituality/god.  I have a relationship with the God who made Himself a man and died on a cross 2,000 years ago, and then introduced Himself to me when I was 16 1/2, mired in my miserable muck of sin, and for the last 10 1/2 years has been allowing me to know Him better each day as He changes who I am.

So, hopefully that wasn't all too heady for you.  It's so important to say, though, because what I am about to delve into, my issues with sin and addiction and the motives of my heart and where my worship identity can be found, are meaningless if you read the word "Christianity" and imagine a bunch of nutties in a room crying and falling on the floor as emotional music plays, or even if it conjures of up horrible images of the corporal punishment (read: spankings, whoopings, what have you) you received every Sunday after you fidgeted for two hours in the pew at your dying-nearly-dead church filled with elderly people who smelled more like mothballs than people filled with abundant life .

I'll start with my worship identity.  It's occurred to me in the weeks that I have been mulling over these issues that I really, really want people to love me.  I want to be so treasured, that girl (woman?  I suppose at some point 'girl' just doesn't apply to a 27 year old) people think of and smile, the one everyone wants to be close to and wishes they could be more like.  These things ebb and flow, but I want to be thought of as smart (this was especially true in high school, where put all of my eggs in the "Damn, Tami's smart!" basket and didn't let anyone forget it); talented (I have yet to truly just let go and worship at church... there's always, somewhere, the part of me that vacillates between wanting people to think I have a great voice and just trying to worship without caring what anyone thinks; even then my focus is still on trying not to think about how I sound); funny (many fatties get good at procuring laughs from people, and I am certainly in this category); pretty (but not sexy or beautiful... I'll hit on that later); a good writer, nice, a loving wife, a compassionate friend, on and on the list rambles.

"But Tami-", I am sure you are thinking, "Doesn't everyone just want to be loved?"  In a word, yes.  But not everyone spends most every waking moment trying to find their significance, their worth, in being well thought of by other people.  And I don't just want to be liked- I want to be everyone's favorite.  Some people have this same issue, but not everyone.  Longing to be loved, worthy, runs rampant through my mind and I see it completely attached to my motives.  I've written blog posts, careful to insert witty word wrangling techniques (my tongue is in my cheek!) because I know people will be impressed and maybe, just maybe, I'll bowl them over with my writing prowess and then they'll love me!  They'll really love me!  I mean, I don't actually think it out that far, but with the perspective given via hindsight I know this has happened more times than I could even count.

The problem with a worship identity not centered solely on Jesus Christ, who He says I am- purchased with His blood ,  forgiven , redeemed (made new, atoned), dead to my former self and my sin , alive only in Him - is that I sin against others when I feel threatened.  I'm easily jealous of those whom I perceive to be more loved by mutual friends.  I find ways to feel like I am a better person than that other blogger who has way more readers than me and gets countless compliments for her writing.  I criticize others constantly, because then I can feel better about me as I am, thus convincing myself that I am still a person others can love.  I have to be right, because who loves a person whose always wrong all of the time?  I secretly pick apart all of the flaws in anyone I perceive to be smarter than me, because even if they are smarter I am still a more wonderful person and more deserving of- you guessed it- love. I don't think I could ever count the hours of energy I have put into being a person others would want to love.

With all of these (horrible) habits, my motives are all jacked up, too.  Remember what I said earlier- worship is the effort put forth into who I believe I am, my identity.  My heart regards the motives behind my actions as directly linked to my worship identity.  Since my worship identity is based on being loved by others, and not who Jesus says I am, my motives are frequently impure.  I don't do things based out of love for Jesus, living out the gospel like I spoke of a few (dozen?) paragraphs ago.

Nope.  I rarely clean up around the home where I nanny because I know the parents are busy and stressed and could use an evening alone watching a sermon together, not disinfecting the kitchen, thus serving out of a heart of love for them because I am secure in the fact that Jesus loves me and I can live out love to serve others.  Instead, I clean because I hope they'll come home, be impressed with their-as-close-to-immaculate-as-I-can-get-them kitchen surfaces, and think, "Wow- that Tami!  Where did we ever find her?  She's the best and most worthy of love nanny in the entire world.  And we do- we love her.  We will never sin against her and never hurt her."

Again... I don't actually think it out, but... my motives are all wrong.  Maybe it seems like it shouldn't matter- either way I did my job and cleaned their kitchen.  The only problem with this is that motives matter to God, and I will one day stand before the judgment seat of Christ (that is heady theology, but if you are really curious just ask me and I'll explain that one) and I will be held accountable for my motives.  If my motives are not to honor and obey Jesus, from a heart freed of sinful motives because my worship identity is based on my value ala Christ's opinion of me, then my "works" (what I do purportedly to honor Christ, and all Christians are explicitly called to do good works, loving others with the love of Christ in action and deed with pure motives) are empty and dead.  Seriously- go read James 2 .  It's all there.

But if I stand before Christ and all of my works, no matter how impressive the accomplishments may look on paper, were done out of impure motives because I was focused on me and not Jesus... I will have to look Him in the eye, see the wrath for sin and hurt I caused Him and the good and free life I never really lived though it was right there for me, and I will suffer greatly because I will know I wasted my life.

Instead, I long to hear the words, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."  I want to simply love Jesus and to have no regrets when I finally- finally- get to look the premiere Love of my life in the eyes.

I want to be free.

I don't like living this way, insecure and constantly tripping all over myself because my worship identity is so effed up even though I know better.

This leads to the most intense part- why am I this way?  I mean, I know the truth, I am in an amazing church where I see people live out the gospel the way I long to, I am married to a man who loves Jesus and really does lead me well as the husband and spiritual leader of our home.  Along with the misplaced worship identity of longing to be loved is attached this self-destructive addiction to food.  Why do I long to be loved, going out of my way to win approval from humans, yet I have eaten myself into a body that completely distracts people from anything lovable there may be in me?

I don't have all of the answers, but I do know this- there is more to my history of sexual abuse than I think I have ever been able to admit.  Not because I was in denial, but because I am so tightly wound in my cocoon that admission of lingering effects wasn't even a possibility.  As I examined my life, it hit me- I eat and am fat to protect myself from unwanted (and deeply feared) male attention of the sexual nature, and then I overcompensate in other areas to try and be loved based on non-sexual attributes.

Ergo, I want to be pretty but not beautiful or sexy.  I want to be smart, funny, a great friend, a talented singer, an inspiring writer... anything but sexually desired.  I'm only ok with sexual desire from my husband- praise God for that, though I am nervous that really digging into these issues will show that my high-level sex drive is all sorts of screwed up stemming from abuse... that's just got to be what it is for now and I will deal with it as it unfolds.  Jesus Christ can, and does, redeem anything, so if I am messed up He can heal me.  Back to where I was headed...

A realization kind of punched me in the gut- I have an unnatural fear of being raped.  I frequently can't fall asleep because I am just certain that someone, a dark scary powerful man, is trying to break into our home to rape me.  This is especially scary because Jason leaves for work at 3am, and I sleep for 5 more hours, home alone, without him.  But then I think to myself, "Most any rapist like that would stake out the house beforehand, and said unsub [unknown subject... too much Criminal Minds!] would see how fat I am and be repulsed.  No rapist wants to waste an opportunity to rape a woman on the 350 pound lady...." and I feel better, safer somehow.

That's just it- I feel safe as a fat person.  Sure, before Jason I longed for love, and carried a flame for my two great crushes for half a decade each.  But it was acceptance that wasn't sexual... my sexual desires, though probably higher than the typical female, were never attached to the guys I had a crush on.  I never fantasized about sex with them; instead, I tried to imagine how it would feel to be unconditionally loved, accepted despite being so fat.  All the while, I packed on the pounds.  With Jason I felt so safe and secure and loved, despite my fatness, that I did open myself up to him sexually... but far too early, before marriage, and we have paid a price for it in our marriage.  We're still working those issues out.

What really nails this realization down is that, upon thinking back to when I really began to get fat as opposed to being a little chubby, I saw a clear connection between being sexually violated and putting on a LOT of weight.  I have a very swiss-cheese memory of my childhood, even through my teen years.  Psychiatrists will tell you it's protection from trauma, and I suppose that's true.  I have been sexually abused by 5 different men, all by the age of 15 but primarily from the ages of birth to about 9, and it's sad because right now I can only tick off 4 yet I know that when I was a teen I realized the number was 5 but I can't remember who the fifth person is.  The main perpetrator was my biological father, and I know he abused me literally hundreds of times, but I can only remember 4 specific incidents and even then the memories are like a quick flash of a few images and that's it.  My mind has simply dumped the memories, or has at least cut off access.

Back to my point- it's fuzzy as to when, but a fairly significant incident occurred between the ages of 13-15.  Tragically, it was the least grotesque of the times I was abused, but it was the most damaging.  Most of my abuse could never be shown in a movie were one to be made- there would only be suggestive images, akin to a TV show where the couple exchanges a furtive glance and then in the next scene you see them wake up, presumably nude, but covered by the sheets on a mussed up bed.  This incident is one that actually could be filmed, if the actress were over 18 and playing a younger teen.  Even so, it's the one that truly shattered my trust in men.

The thing is, I never told my mom about any of my abusers save for my biological father and that, honestly, was a miracle... it's a long story, but it can be summed up in me trying to protect her and feeling like I could handle whatever Chuck (that's his name) did to me, but too many people, mainly my mom, would fall apart if they knew what was happening.  That said, when I did speak up, I was assured again and again and again by everyone, from my mom to counselors to the lawyers and police (my fifth birthday was spent being interrogated by a police officer gathering my account of what happened to me) and social workers and other family members, that it was not my fault, that I was just a little girl who didn't know any better and that Chuck was a very sick and very bad man.  With the other abusers I just applied this same logic- I knew I didn't ask, want, nor even warrant any perverted sexual attention from them, and the problem was them and not me.  That said, that one incident, the last one, despite being the least offensive physically, wasn't so easily written off.

I was with a close friend of our family, a few years older, and I really trusted him.  He wasn't perfect, but he was almost like a father figure to me. I completely trusted him and longed to be loved in that pure way that fathers love daughters despite him not being my dad.  Somehow we ended up spooning on the couch, but it wasn't sexual (to me)- I felt so protected, so loved, so secure.  It was innocent.  I actually remember thinking, "So this is how it feels to be a daddy's girl, to have that pure relationship where he showers good affection on his daughter and makes her feel loved."  But then... then his hand was caressing my recently-and-rapidly-developing breast, encircling it again and again and again and I was so stiff, scared to anger him if I reacted but wanting to get away from the situation... so far away that it could be like it never happened.

Only, it did happen.  And I couldn't escape.  I never told my parents, the man remained close to our family, and nothing happened again but I never forgot and I escaped in a different way.  I got a job at a local sandwich/ ice cream / soup / espresso shop and I downed thousands of calories per shift.  I spent my money from my job buying fried foods from the supermarket deli, chips and cellophane wrapped corporate pastries from the gas station, and enough food for two adults from the fast food joints we hit when I traveled to when on the road with my high school sports teams (my tiny town didn't have any fast food places), and any extras I could con the lunch ladies out of when I went through the line receiving my free lunches (yup- I was poor).  When I look through pictures, I went from a little chubby in the seventh grade- I was a size 9- to a barely-able-to-squeeze-into-size-18-jeans senior when I graduated high school.  It may not seem like a huge deal, but after the couch incident I packed on 100 pounds before graduating high school, and I've put on another 150 since graduation.  Basically, all of my excess weight was put on after the man, whom I trusted, fondled me.

While I didn't do it consciously, I was trying to protect myself.  For the first time I felt like something was wrong with me that caused this man to find me sexually attractive, and on some subconscious level I was done with it.  I didn't want to be attractive anymore.  Food was comforting, for sure, and it was a double-edged sword to strike down my insecurities because I found the acceptance I sought from people, but never received, in food- it never rejected me, and in its own way it loved me unconditionally- all while putting on the weight that would, I subconsciously hoped, make me less attractive to men.

I have long thought I don't have issues with men, but I'm starting to realize that it's kind of a non-issue... or at least, I think it is.  I'm so fat that, in my mind, no man would be attracted to me so I don't consider the possibility of any unwanted physical attention.  But the possibility of actually losing weight, a LOT of weight, is becoming more and more real, and I have to deal with these issues before it happens.  I have to prepare myself for the long haul, because I didn't gain 250 pounds in a day and I won't lose the pounds, or the emotional / spiritual / mental issues in a day, either.

Lastly, and I have to admit that it's 3 am and I'm getting really tired so I may need to readdress this point later, I'm saddened to realize how numb I am.  I don't deal with sin issues, nor do I even see them half the time, because I am so numb, so non-feeling, so immovable emotionally regarding my past and current hurt.  I cloak myself in my fat, I wrap myself up in it, and I try to get some sort of significant existence out of this life by impressing other people, but I just sort of float around, like some sort of Christian-zombie.  I don't really trust God, and I can't fully believe I am who He says I am because, when I'm honest, I don't yet believe Him that He is who He says He is- compassionate, gracious, kind, slow to anger, a protector, a loving Father, a Father to the fatherless... it's a mess.  I'm a mess.

I have to- have to- be humbled and allow the Holy Spirit to soften my rebellious heart, to annihilate this sin of disbelief in me before I can ever resolve my issues of needing to protect myself by being fat, comforting myself with food, as opposed to believing God to be my Protector, My Shield, and to find solace in Him and His word.

The good news is that Jas and are hopefully going to be in something at our church called a Redemption Group, where highly trained Biblical leaders work with a group of people just as messed up as I am to learn to rely on God, to live out the Gospel, and to have life-giving and renewing faith in Christ that redefines who I am and who I've been.

This is getting choppier as I get more tired, so I'll end with this- it struck me a few minutes ago, as my fingers flew across the keyboard, how blessed I am to have this gift, the ability to write this blog.  I know that, more than anything, I'll look back at entries like this in a few years and praise Jesus Christ for how much He has changed me.  To be honest, having anyone else read these- and kudos to you if you've really read. Every. Single. Word. of this post- is kind of amazing.

It's akin to being struck by the utter absurdity of a word like "the", pondering its etymology and who decided that a t and an h and an e would be put together to form a word that made the sounds people spoke when saying the word, and how did language really evolve to include the creation of words like "the", anyway?, you know, deep thoughts like that... but it hit me how kind of incredible it is that, as I type, there's just this white space but when my fingers move across plastic keys connected to rubber connectors that eventually send electronic signals and by some miracle my thoughts fill the nothingness and take shape to fill the void and, sometimes, they turn into something beautiful, these words, these shapes that flow out of my fingers through my mind.

I suppose I'll end right there.  This post will likely spark off your ability to be involved in these deep things, honestly life-altering events, that I am muddling through.  I hope I will be humble, that Jesus Christ will shine through and I'll fade and finally realize the beauty in just loving and not trying so hard to be loved because I am so certain of the perfect love I already and have always had.  The love that nailed the God-Man Jesus Christ to a cross, the love that led Him to say the words, "Forgive them, for they know not what they do", the love that is honest and selfless and free and unapologetic and true.  Would that we could all know, really truly know, that love.

[You Found Me, The Fray]

I just returned from a lovely date with my sexy husband.  We discovered that our local Starbucks has this sweet upstairs area with couches and chairs and such that not everyone knows about so you can actually sit and talk without 56,000 people crowding you out.  At this moment he is repacking our awesome new Cuisinart because it doesn't work.  I discovered, the hard way (aka with a bunch of onions and garlic already in the prep bowl to be chopped up), that when you turn it on nothing happens... other than outlets blow.  Good thing we have little circuit breakers on our outlets, so it didn't affect our wider electrical system.  So it's a bummer that it's defective, but the sweet thing is that there is a KILLER deal at Macy's today, so we get to have a refund for our 7-cup processor and get the 11-cup processor for the same price as the 7-cup on sale.  We are saving $180 and paying $99.  Sweet deal, if you ask me.  Go Macy's.

Ooooh, I just realized that I have a $30 Macy's gift card left over from our wedding *ahemthatoccurred15monthsago* so we'll end up saving even more.  Ah, good deals.  How I love them.

My oral surgery follow-up went well, btw.  I'm healing nicely.  It was just so extensive that it takes time.  My pain is manageable with ibuprofen and I have a syringe to irrigate the wounds... now it's just a matter of being patient, keeping on with the saltwater rinses, and accepting that having my mouth sliced open hurts and takes time to heal.  Go figure.

But none of you really care about dates and food processors and oral surgery right now, do you?  Because, if you are at all attentive, you remember that today I met with the best bariatric surgeon in the Pac NW (if you don't know what Pac NW means I sort of disown you) and you are eagerly anticipating details.  Well, here you go-- I'm sure I'll be long winded, but you love me for it.  Get a glass of water and settle in for the ride.

One thing I have been kind of battling with is the fact that there is a more extreme surgery than gastric bypass called the duodenal [pronounced doo-odd-in-uhl] switch (I'll shorten it to DS for future use).  It's the same idea- shrinking the stomach and bypassing a section of the intestines; the DS is just far more extensive.  For the truly curious, here are two diagrams; just click on each link to see drawings that represent each procedure:

Roux-en-Y Gastric Bypass

Duodenal Switch

As you can see, the DS just does way more.  I've been torn, because the DS has better numbers as far as excess weight loss.  I'm not sure it's covered by insurance (they couldn't give me a straight answer but most insurances consider it "experimental" and refuse to cover it until there is more data) and I know Dr. Chebli doesn't perform the DS.  Once again, I prayed for wisdom from Jesus, that we'd walk away from the appointment sure of what to do.  Once again, Jesus totally answered my prayer.

We are sticking with gastric bypass and Dr. Chebli.  He said that the DS does have better numbers, because it's so drastic that for some patients who are set on failure (aka eating horribly and not exercising) the surgery wins.  The body simply cannot absorb enough nutrients to gain a lot of weight.  Also, he is very much on top of expertise in the WLS arena and he wouldn't recommend me to anyone in the Pac NW- the only two surgeons he trusts enough to recommend by name are located in Miami and Washington, D.C.  DS requires very close lifelong follow-up with the actual surgeon and I would have to make multiple trips- dozens in the initial year- to the surgeon.  It's just not feasible for us.

So here's the cool thing- Dr. Chebli was very careful not to be a salesman.  He was honest about the benefits of DS, that it could have better results for me, since my BMI is 57.  That said, his RNY (an abbreviation for the proper name of Roux-en-Y gastric bypass) numbers are similar to most DS numbers for other surgeons because his program is really that good.  He is very careful in screening, to make sure patients are really ready to commit to the life changes, and the support before and after surgery is unmatched by most programs around the nation.  He didn't say that- I know that from the research I have done.  That's why he's the best of the best.

Also, if I'm really honest with myself, having a surgery that wins when I am intentionally undisciplined would be VERY bad for me.  I need a full change- spiritual, psychological, emotional, and physical.  No shortcuts- WLS in general is a tool, but not a shortcut.  I know that if I commit to the work required I will be successful, and that Dr. Chebli's program is the best option for me.  So that is settled- pursuing RNY I am.

Yoda is still family related.

The other big take away from the apt. is that the pre-surgery requirements will be a LOT of work.  Seriously. I will do a vlog , hopefully later tonight, about everything I need to get done.  Various tests, studies, procedures, and tons of records gathering shall ensue in the upcoming months.  And I need to lose 18.4 pounds and be on a low-carb diet (30g of carbs a day... that's VERY few for those who are not carb conscious!  There are 13g in an 8oz glass- 1 serving- of milk!) to help reduce the fattiness and size of my liver.  I found out why- if my liver is too large, and thus in the way, Dr. Chebli would have to switch from a laparoscopic procedure- a few small holes to insert instruments, cameras, etc, with a very short recovery time- to an open procedure- where he cuts me open with a large incision and thus drastically increases the health risks (greater chance of infection, etc) and recovery time.

So... overall, the appointment went really well.  My one slight concern is this- I have to provide medical proof of obesity spanning back five years in order for insurance to approve my surgery.  There is a zero percent chance that they'll renege on this requirement.  Insurance companies are trying to make money, after all.  If I can only provide evidence dating back 3 years, for example, insurance can put off my surgery 2 years and hope that I either change my mind, lose weight w/o surgery (thus w/o payment from them), or am no longer on their coverage.

The deal is, 5 years ago I was a junior in college and rarely went to the doctor.  And, sadly, when I did visit the health center for a cold I don't ever remember being weighed.  I know I was obese- I was 290 pounds in June of 2003, which I know because of a scale in my home. I'm just not sure that I have medical records to prove it.

I'm not going to stress- I will trust in Jesus.  If this surgery is right for me, He is God, He is in control, and He'll work out the details.  I can stress out about it, but I don't need to, because stressing won't change a thing.  I can trust God that if these details don't work out then He knows what's best.  That said, I am praying to Jesus that this is His will and that He'll work it out.  I will do my work, gathering every shred of medical evidence and preparing diligently.  Beyond that it's in His hands.  That said, if you are one who prays I certainly appreciate your prayer support!

Overall, things are on the right path.  I'll go post a vlog now with more details re: pre-requirements for surgery, and I'll edit this post when I'm done to include the link and embedded video.  And my in-depth and lengthy post I promised is still in progress, so worry not!

Aight, here's the link and below is the embedded vlog for your lazy viewing pleasure.



Hasta, kids.

I have nothing in my head re: song lyrics to title this post, thus we're going generic.

Thoughts: my teeth still hurt like crazy.  Well, the bottom ones.  Seriously, if my whole mouth was like the top teeth (well, the top holes) I'd be pretty much back to normal living.  The left side is pretty swollen around the stitches and sore.  It's the good side, sadly.  The right side is MESSED up.  The tooth was actually kind of out to the side, toward my cheek, from the rest of my teeth, so the hole kind of goes into the side of my cheek.  The stitch came out and so there's this huge- HUGE- hole on the inside of my cheek and, honestly, it hurts like mad.  The percocet helps, but I will be real with you all- it's going to be a rough week, chasing after a running around Brodster and dealing with massive pain.  Ugh.

I'll be ok.  I don't need to whine.

In other news, my man had to get an endoscopy today.  Basically, he had to go under with anesthesia, and then a tube was inserted through his mouth down through his esophagus and stomach, into his small intestine.  The doc then removed a few pieces of his intestinal lining to do a biopsy and see if he has Celiac's disease.  That's a gluten allergy that basically causes lesions similar to what he gets on his epidermis (skin) to form on the lining of his small intestines.  So, now he's basically passed out on the couch trying to sleep off the anesthesia.  He was so, so cute when he came out from the procedure, though.  I just felt so tender toward him.  I want to kiss his sweet forehead right now, but he needs his sleep.

He's SO funny- he keeps saying random and funny things.  Like, he's VERY modest (sometimes I call him a prude, usually in love!) but I was watching last night's DVR'd episode of Iron Chef America and Iron Chef Symon used something called geoduck (pronounced gooey-duck).  It's actually a clam, and it's... interesting.  So, my very reserved husband pops off, very matter of factly, "That looks like a penis."  I about choked on my own tongue!  It was too hilarious.  And, if I haven't already lost about half of my reader base (my lovely conservative Christian type friends!  I'm one too, just less... traditional!), I would be remiss not to share with you this picture that I found when I Google-imaged "geoduck".  I laughed so hard that I woke up poor sleepy Jason :)

May please note here how much it sucks to not be able to yawn properly?  I can half yawn by trying to stretch the back of my mouth / throat and breathing deeply, but my ears are desperate for a huge yawn. The problem is that my jaw is so tight right now that I can't really open it all the way, and it would (painfully) stretch my wounds so... meh.

So, an observation I had at J's clinic, while I was waiting, was that if I want a long life I need to lose this weight.  I mean, duh, but there were a lot of very elderly people there, generally ranging from their late 60's to late 70's, and none of them were overweight.  One lady, probably in her 80's, was brought in by an obese companion (daughter?  Not sure) in her 50's and the thin older lady seemed to be doing better with walking and getting around than did the heavier younger one.

Also, I saw a woman whom I am not sure I would ever be like, but I was fascinated by her.  She looked to be in her later 60's, and she was seriously simply a much older version of that super cute fit girl you see at the supermarket and want to be like.  She was wearing cropped, cotton workout pants, a fitted jacket, and tennis shoes with hidden short socks.  Her legs were thin, with surprisingly youthful calves exposed.  Plus, her butt was way cuter at her age than your average (read: overweight) American girl in her 20's!  I'm not sure that I'll ever be that itty-bitty and fit, but she was very much an inspiration.

Length of life is definitely a concern for me at this very large size.

Two quick things:  my initial appt with Dr. Chebli re: WLS, likely gastric bypass, is Friday at 11.  I'll be sure to fill you all in after the fact (though my wisdom teeth follow up is at 2:45 so I'm not sure when I'll have time to update Friday).  Also, the first of the month snuck up on me (whoops) so I'll have to weigh in tomorrow morning.  Hopefully I won't forget.  I'm a little nervous about the number because a) I'm getting PMS- the first symptoms came today and b) not to gross anyone out, but the narcotics seem to... ahem... back up my system.  I'm normally a very regular chica, as in every day if not 2-3 times a day, but on these drugs I have only unloaded 2 times in 8 days and neither of them were full-on jobs.

So... now you know.  Penises and poop, all in one post.  Lucky you!  On that note, I'm done now.

Hasta, kids!

[Permanent, David Cook]

Tonight I wasn't able to go to Community Group; Jason has a nasty cold and I can feel my body trying to fight it off.  I came home to drink lots of OJ, take an Airborne, and hopefully I'll get to bed early and get a ton of sleep. I really need to not get sick.  I've been avoiding contact with J (totally SUCKS!) so as to try and not get his germs, washing my hands all the time, and just so trying to not get sick.

The deal is, the family I nanny for is going back east for Thanksgiving, and they're leaving Saturday.  It would just be cruel to get the little bug sick and then have his parents trying to fly across the country with a sick baby.  Not cool.  I'm doing my best to not rub my eyes and then touch him, etc.

So that's that.  Eating has been going really well.  I've figured out a few ways to stay on track.  For one, I know I am a sweet eater.  I can snack on 3,500 calories (a pound!) worth of crap and junk and not feel satisfied.  If I just eat a sweet- usually chocolate- I am satisfied.  Last week it was so hard because there were lots of treats where I nanny, healthy ones even, but they were all earmarked and not ok for me to eat.  I wanted to eat and eat and eat and eat.  I chose not to snack on a bunch of stuff (funny that I just said that, because Jillian is yelling at Michelle about choosing not to quit on The Biggest Loser right now), but I don't know how long I would hold up under that kind of pressure.

So, the sweet solution (bad pun, I know) I came up with is to bring some treat of my own.  I brought my new and favorite (and much beloved!) Skinny Cow ice cream cones.  They should totally pay me, by the way.  Meh.  The other thing is that I have been back on a milk kick (if you know me, you know that I LOVE milk.  Seriously.  LOVE it.  I've been trying to not drink so much, though.) and I have a serving size- one serving size!- with my lunch.  The milk tends to run out at work so I decided to bring my own quart- I purchased organic milk and it is AMAZING.  We can't afford to get it all of the time yet (we buy milk at Costco; I know you can get two gallons at Safeway for the same price but it tastes icky to me.  I like Costco milk.) but it's a great treat with lunch each day.

Anyway, I actually do have a point here :)  There was a day last week where I went to get my glass of milk, it was gone, and it triggered the desire to just eat and eat and eat whatever I could get my chubby paws on.  Once again, I didn't give in and I was "good", but what if next time that happens I'm having a rough day or I'm PMS'ing- a time when rational choices seem to fade into the mist- and I'm simply not as strong?  I need to set myself up to succeed and do whatever I can to avoid failure, thus my treats and milk.

My mind has really been ruminating on obesity.  What is it that causes some of us to turn to food?  To become addicted to it?  Why do some people always struggle to put down the fork or not put the junk in the shopping cart?  How come some people use food as their drug and other people turn to actual drugs or unhealthy relationships or hurting themselves?  Why do some people punish themselves with starvation and others with bingeing?

I don't have any answers.  I mean, some girls who are sexually abused get addicted to attention and affection from boys and others, like me, turn to food for comfort.  I have friends who love to exercise and run; why do I hate it so much?  Why don't I love exercise and see food as just a pleasure to enjoy in moderation?  Do I blame my upbringing?  Am I genetically predisposed?  I don't know.

I hate that people probably see me as weak.  I don't know what it is like to not struggle with obesity and I can't imagine what people who don't know this fight must think of me.  I hate to be a stereotype.  I don't feel like I am that fat person I see in the mirror... I wish the mirror would reflect who I feel I am.  Not that I think I am beautiful, but I don't feel like the 350 pound fat lady.  I know I am, but just last week I was walking around at work and I thought to myself, "I feel like a normal sized person.  Only when I see my ass waddle as I walk by a mirror do I realize that I am totally and completely huge."

Anyway.

A sidenote about The Biggest Loser-- has anyone else noticed that, generally speaking, the show seems to be gravitating toward prettier and prettier girls?  Like, they're fat to start, but once they lose weight they totally fit our culture's standards of beauty.  I'm not saying pretty fat girls don't deserve to get thin, too, but it seems a little unfair.  I think the only female on tonight's show that isn't basically gorgeous, despite the weight, is Vicki. No offense to her.  Everyone else is so pretty.  Seriously, Coleen is GORGEOUS and it was obvious when she was 218 pounds that if she lost even 50 or so pounds (not out of the ordinary) she'd be totally hot.  Honestly, it's so sad, but I think that the producers know that no one wants to watch a show where women lose weight but still aren't pretty.

This is so tragic.  It's not enough in this world to lose weight and get a thin body- you also have to have a pretty face to feel valuable and worthy.  It's hard enough to be fat in this world, but the subliminal message that you also have to have been born with a face considered beautiful by our cultural standards to be a person deserving of love is pretty sad.

This brings up a secret fear- I don't really know what my face looks like under all of this fat.  I know that my profile is really flat and that I was called "owl face" in the sixth grade.  What if I work so hard and I get gastric bypass and I do lose 200+ pounds and my body even responds well and my skin isn't all flabby but I don't have a pretty face?  How sad might that be?  I'm not saying it's reason enough to give up on this battle, but I would be lying if I neglected to admit the times when I felt like I won't ever be pretty, regardless of weight, so I might as well just do the easy thing and eat what I want and be fat.

Ultimately, my worth is in Jesus and who He says I am, what He says I am.  Totally valued, completely loved, altogether cherished, of inherent worth.  Even if I don't lose a single pound more in my lifetime this will remain true, though I'll have to deal with the ramifications of sin.  I believe the Bible and what I know in my heart to be true, that I am loved and accepted by the God of this entire existence as we know it.  Still, I find myself torn.  I want to be loved and accepted by people, too.  At my size, and possibly with this face, I'll never get it, but I still want to be thought of as beautiful.  You ladies know this battle- to be complimented on character is never enough.  We want people to see us and gasp at how gorgeous we are.

I sometimes have flitting daydreams of people from my past seeing me and being astounded at how I look, some 200 pounds less of me to impress them.  This is, I think, why I fear seeing anyone now because I'm so fat, fatter than most remember me and I was plenty fat back when I last saw them, so fat that I just think they'll be disgusted and reject all of me, "inner beauty" along with my despicable exterior.

Body image.  Seriously, it's messed up.  For all of us.

[Mr. Jones, Counting Crows]

Something has been heavy on my mind and heart.  In my last post I ended by writing about the fact that I simply can't imagine not being fat.  I have always been fat- never thin, never truly fit.  I definitely don't know what it would feel like to just feel normal.  That said, I don't pretend that I'll ever stop dealing with body image issues.

Even if I have a miraculous result from gastric bypass (I still write that and don't fully believe it will happen for me, getting GB I mean) and lose 230 pounds and rock the scales at 130 pounds (that sounds so impossible to me), a size 6 (my dream size), I would still have body issues.  The possibility of loose skin means I'd probably never have a firm stomach or thighs or arms, no matter how much fat I lose and muscle I tone.  And, honestly, even if I were somehow blessed with incredible results and had a firm body, I guarantee you I would still have issues with my body.  I don't like my teeth- even braces won't erase the scars of 27+ years of crazy snaggleteeth.

Besides, I'm a curvy woman.  I'll have hips and thighs no matter what.  My feet are too big.  My face is flat when you look at my profile.  My hands are HUGE.  No matter what my body looks like and no matter how many pounds I lose, or what procedures are done to improve my appearance, I'll always have body issues.  I've blamed my image issues on being fat (websites like these 2- number one , number two - that shred apart fat people solely for not living up to cultural standards of beauty don't help; I'll explain how I found those later in the post) and to be sure my being super morbidly obese hasn't helped me feel good about myself in life.

That said, the deal is the fact that Every.  Single.  Woman. I have ever known has image issues.  No female is totally 100% perfectly at peace with her body.  She can work on it, work on believing God that He created her and she's beautiful, she can do thousands of hours of Pilates and firm and tone but she'll wish that bit of cellulite on her thighs would just disappear, or she'll wish her nose didn't have that huge bump.  You know how you can tell how a woman really feels about her body?  See how she reacts when she feels it's being criticized by someone she loves and trusts... that's when buried insecurities surface.

Countless people who know me and / or read my blog have told me that my image issues certainly are severe due to my massive girth (ok, they don't use phrases like "massive girth"!) but they've also been really encouraged by my choice to be open and honest because, no matter their size, they have image issues as well.  Sadly, some people on the thinner side have struggled because others who do have issues with weight make said thin people feel guilty about not constantly fighting the scales.  Criticism and rejection are criticism and rejection no matter how nicely we try to package them.  Our insecurities rip our female friends to shreds when we guilt trip them for not seeming to have it as bad as we do.  It's honestly tragic, the way we hurt each other like this, especially women against women.

Listen, culture is culture.  We all know that billboard women aren't real, but we still compare ourselves to them.  How many women do you know with Gisele Bundchen's sexy Victoria's Secret body?  I mean, that perfectly proportioned, big and small in all the right places, with amazing curves yet toned and with killer legs?  Those women are just impossible.  And you know, what does it really get you to have that body?  We want that body, but does anyone really need a body like hers?  I know my standards aren't the cultural norm, but who needs to see women in bikinis frolicking around?  And do we really need to go to the beach and have a super sexy body so that everyone will look at us?  What does that do for anyone, anyway?

I'm so grateful for my pastor's most recent sermon series, especially this last Sunday's sermon.  The series is about the Song of Solomon, a book in the Bible basically describing a passionate relationship between a man and a wife who are surrendered to God.  What's beautiful is that this woman, whose name we don't know, doesn't fit the cultural standards of beauty.  She came from a poor family and thus worked outside and had dark skin, not "sexy" in a culture that treasures pale skin.  From Solomon's descriptions, we are led to believe that his sweet wife had a very large nose- again, not traditionally sexy.

What I find beautiful is that Solomon again and again builds up his wife, telling her how incredibly beautiful she is.  It doesn't matter that she wouldn't grace the cover of Vogue in today's world.  She is his standard of beauty, and his goal is not to make her over into Gisele Bundchen- instead, he is in awe of her beauty just as she is and he consistently tells her this, thus building up her confidence to just be herself, to be comfortable in her own skin.  We see him reminding her over and over that she's beautiful- he doesn't assume that telling her one time will do the trick.  That is so incredibly beautiful and truly what every woman wants and needs to hear.

As a caveat, you know what awesome thing happens as a result?  The Peasant Princess, as we have named her in the sermon series, is built up enough to be able to become visually available (read: comfortable being seen naked) to her husband.  This leads to not only incredible sex (yes! It's in the Bible!)  but deeper intimacy in their marriage in general.  What is truly beautiful to me is that I have seen this happen in my own life- my husband is incredible and always tells me how beautiful I am.  I am his standard of beauty, whatever I look like.  At a size 28 I am the most beautiful woman in the world to him; he doesn't even compare current me to the possible future me that could result from gastric bypass.  He reminds me that, though he's willing to work hard so we can afford to get braces for my teeth and we plan to do as much as possible to help me be comfortable with myself (clothes, make-up, professional hair treatment, whatever makes me feel beautiful), he still just loves me right now as I am.

This is incredible.  Despite the emotional pain from how I have been treated by others- and how I treat myself- I am completely comfortable in my very obese skin with my husband.  The way the world sees me and how I see myself not so much, but I know that Jason loves me even at 357 pounds.  I don't know why, or how he's able to not constantly compare me to the barrage of sexy, thin women culture inundates him with. Truly, it's Jesus.  It's grace.  I only know that I am safe- completely safe- in my husband's care and it means the world to me.  I wish every woman could know what this feels like.

Something I'm working on is being better about how I speak of other women and their bodies.  I know people who are a size 8 who are post-baby and struggle with their body because they're having an incredibly hard time getting back to the size 4 they were pre-baby.  Most of us who struggle with obesity condescendingly make remarks like, "I wish that were my problem."  Like I said earlier, I also know petite women who struggle with the burden of criticism from women who do struggle with their weight, always being told, essentially, "Well, you aren't fat so can't imagine how painful it is to have body image issues."  Um, HELLO, body image issues go FAR beyond being fat or thin.  I try to be real with my friends, to tell them they are beautiful, but not to base my approval rating of them (even inadvertently) on their current body shape.

Ok, one last thing- those websites I linked to earlier.  I promise I wasn't feeling self-deprecating and searching for mean hating-on-the-fatties sites.  I was reading another blog that links to mine and it's on Wordpress so if you hover over my blog's link this snap shot deal pops up- the good thing is it shows the first few lines of my most recent posts.  The bummer is that there are sponsored ads with words representing topics that some advertiser apparently thinks apply to my blog, and if you click on the words it brings up a page with other websites related to that topic.  So, one of the phrases said advertiser apparently thinks apply to Foode Fight showed up as "fat people".  Lovely.  But I clicked the link, saw those two sites, and was appalled.

There are people are so insecure and desperate to be loved that they go on anonymous sites to pour out vitriol aimed at fat people.  Specific fat people, all fatties in general, etc.  And then there was the other site, pictures of fat people posted so that less-fat people can mock them and feel a little better about themselves.  Honestly, it's so tragic.  I know not everyone shares my worldview, but I pray for the people who spend time on those websites because they are so, so desperate for redemption and love found only in Jesus.

On this note I need to wrap up.  You can look forward to a post later this week about some forthcoming HUGE changes to my diet... it's very simple.  My husband has a severe dermatological disorder (read: extremely painful rash) that was misdiagnosed as psoriasis for the last 8 years.  Today we found out that it's a rather extreme reaction to gluten.  Our entire menu has to completely change, and gluten free can be frugal but it's rough.  So, look forward to more on that.  And maybe some stuff between now and then.  For now, I am exhausted.  Hasta, chicos.

PS I have nothing against Gisele Bundchen.  I'm not ripping on her for having a sexy body.  It is tragic that she uses her body basically to make herself a lot of money and perpetuate the objectification of women in our culture as sex objects, but at the end of the day I would want her to meet Jesus and find true value and worth in life every bit as much as I would my own female friend or mother or some random "average" gal down the street.

My intent is not to hypocritically beat up on Ms. Bundchen for having a sexy body- my only point is that any of us buying into the idea that her body is the ideal for everyone else is wrong.  And for anyone with a slamming body like hers- well, that's awesome for that woman's husband but what good has it done for women or men to have culture try and dictate to us all what a standard of beauty is?  I firmly believe this issue tears marriages to shreds because men have porn addictions and/or they gaze (read: lust) after hot women in passing and their wives feel- this is a harsh word, but so true; I apologize to my G-readers in advance- shitty about themselves, which leads to either clinginess or retreat; both are manipulative and the husband in turn looks to other women sexually for fulfillment.  Even if he never "cheats" there is still a huge wedge in the marriage.

A much, much better way would be if men- hardwired to be very visual- were NOT constantly bombarded with half naked women everywhere they look.  Then they could do a better job at keeping their wife as their standard of beauty; in turn the wife's standard of beauty would be not in the latest Victoria's Secret campaign ads but in how her husband sees her, and she'd be able to believe that, for him, she is the most beautiful woman in the world and that's all that truly matters.  In Christ this is fully possible, it just sucks that even Jesus-loving men are hit so hard with images of Gisele in a barely-there bikini when they are watching football, images that their mind struggles to erase, and women battle incessantly with often vicious body image issues as a result of how culture has reduced them to their looks.  I know I'm on a soapbox, but it's tearing our marriages and families apart long before any vows are ever exchanged between two people.

Ok, I'm actually going to bed now.  'Night.

[Rehab, Rihanna]

Not a huge lot to say.  I had my ultrasound today, and it was fairly uneventful.  But, you know me, I can make a long story out of nothing at all, so here goes :)

The deal is, I have enough abdominal fat that regular ultrasounds, the whole jelly on the belly bit, aren't really ideal.  There is too much tissue to get a good picture.  Thus, I had to get mine via a method dubbed "transvaginal".  I'm pretty sure you can figure out what that means.

I was really nervous- I'm just going to put it all out there on this one- because I get nervous about anything involving someone who isn't my husband doing any sort of business down there.  I honestly think this is because when I was 8 a doc- gentle and caring as she was- had to check me out all throughout that region because I was sexually abused.  It's a bit traumatizing, and I honestly don't know how I genuinely love good sex as much as I do- truly, Jesus gets credit for me being able to enjoy intimacy with my husband and not be scarred in that regard sexually.  But having health professionals doing biz down there is just something that makes me really nervous.

The good news is that it went really, really well.  The ultrasound tech was a super cute and very sweet woman probably about my age, maybe 2-3 years older, who was 8 mos pregnant and truly adorable.  For some reason her being pregnant and married (she told me so later, as we talked about her family and her pregnancy and all of that... I have a way of getting people to open up ;) ) really set me at ease.  She did the jelly-on-belly bit first, just to see if she could get a good pic, and then did the whole vaginal bit.  It really wasn't so bad, and it was actually kind of cool because I was able to ask her what she was seeing and doing and what things were (did you know that women's ovaries always have these dark spots that show up, usually one more than the other depending on which ovary's turn it is to produce an egg, because the follicles are getting the egg ready for release?  Good for me to know, because large dark spots on my ovary kind of freaked me out at first.).  Now I know that my ovaries are nestled in close and tight to my uterus.  And you all know that now, too.  Merry Christmas, 7 weeks early ;)

Ultimately, the ultrasound was inconclusive.  They found no evidence of PCOS, but that doesn't mean I don't have it.  I need to get hormonal testing done via more bloodwork.  Skippy.  It's never fun to get tests that feel like they were for nothing, but if I don't have PCOS I won't complain.  It sounds like a real pain in the arse, to be honest.

Other than that not a ton happened today that's blogworthy.  I do have an appointment for my initial consult with Dr. Chebli on December 5 so I am excited for that.

I just have to say that I keep thinking about the real possibility that I could lose upwards of 200 pounds, really see my life change, and not be obese anymore, and it seems surreal.  Like, I'm not sure I really believe it.  I won't even believe that I'm really, truly getting gastric bypass until I get out of surgery, you know?  I've been fat my whole life (remember my first posts?  If not, here's #1 and here's #2 ) and just the idea of being able to cross my legs, or the ability to lean over to pick something up off of the floor while sitting on a couch (aka not having a 75 pound stomach in the way), is kind of overwhelming.  Well, really, it's not overwhelming- it's surreal (sorry to repeat the word, but that's what it is) and I can't imagine it.  Like, you know how you try to imagine what something was like, like maybe what did Jesus actually look like and how did His voice sound and what was it like to actually look into His eyes (or pick some other historical figure we don't even have real pictures of, like say, Julius Caesar) and you know it was real but you just can't actually imagine it?  That's how I feel, only in reverse because those men really lived and a thin me never has... I struggle to imagine that she ever actually will.

Mark my words, the head stuff- emotional and psychological issues- will be the hardest part of this entire journey.  That said, I'm all in, so for those walking along with me I'm grateful.

On that note, sleep must come to me now.  'Night.

[What's A Boy To Do, Mat Kearney]

Before I get into the post, I want to say this: a large chunk of my readers find me by googling (literally googling, not just any inferior random search engine!) "foode fight".  This is cool, but may I recommend you to a product that will change your life?  No, really.  Trust me here.

Google Reader

(It's linked- go there!)

Sign up for an account (if you don't already have a gmail account; if you do then you just use your gmail info, same as for Google Docs, Google Calendar, etc), and add Foode Fight as a subscription (you just paste the web URL into a box that will pop up when you click "add subscription" on the far left about halfway down the page).  You can add all of your various blogs.  I have a ton that I read, and believe me, going to each one is annoying, especially when you have friends that update like once every three months (coughShionacough).  I simply created folders- Real Friends (you know, as opposed to fake friends... no, kidding.  These are simply people I actually know as opposed to cyber-people), Weight Loss Blogs, Seattle Neighborhood Blogs (from hyper-local to Seattle in general; this helps me keep my feelers on the heartbeat of Seattle culture, and since I live here I kind of think it matters to do so), on and on.  If you aren't super tech savvy and need help, just ask me.  But really, it's fabulous- you go to one place to read everything.  And if you really want to see people's actual page and not just a generic white background you can click a link to their page.  Easy.

The best part is that I no longer have to memorize blog addy's whenever I am on a different computer.  Like, we have a desktop and laptop and depending on what's up with my husband I switch back and forth.  Or, when I am at work I can just sign into Gmail, click on the Reader link in the top left corner, and voila, I'm already signed in and can catch up on my blogs.  This is the best RSS reader I have found, and in general I am a huge Google fan (if you hadn't noticed).  I heartily recommend Gmail and Google Calendar, too (even though we have Outlook 2007... I prefer Google Calendar, again due to the portability... it's online so I just need an internet connection and I can update the calendar, say, if I make a dr. apt while at work.  Fantastic.), because they are awesome... but I'll just stop there... well, one more thing. I had Hotmail for like 7 years, and a Yahoo account for a few years in there, and once I signed up for Gmail I eventually forgot the other two even existed-- that's how vastly superior Gmail is.

I'll stop now :)

Things re: gastric bypass are underway.  My initial consult apt has been scheduled, so between now and then I just have to gather info and complete some paperwork to be ready.  Simple.

I have been thinking about something... I have a gazillion friends on Facebook (or four hundred and something... same diff), all people I actually know (a personal rule of mine).  I linked them, via a status update, to my last post.  A LOT of people visited (my daily average number of visitors more than doubled for the last two days) and I received some really great feedback.  Yet, when I posted the blog there, I was kind of nervous.

The thing is, while I make Foode Fight fairly accessible (it's listed right there on my profile) I get a bit antsy about directly linking people to it by means of something so readily available as a click on my status.  This means people beyond my comfort zone will probably read it.  And then people will know I'm fat.  And that I struggle.  That I am vulnerable.  For as honest as I often am here on Foode Fight, it's still kind of cozy because a fairly limited subset of people read this blog- either strangers who are also on their own weight loss journey or good friends I trust.  Basically, you,  my main readers hitting me up 50 or so times a day, are safe.

Beyond you, the loyal and supportive people who have been here for nearly a year (most of you, at least), it gets less certain.  The step off of the nice, solid cement and onto the less-certain untended terrain was one taken, at first, with trepidation... but then I just sort of threw myself out there and did it.  So far it's been really great, lots of support and love.  Truly, that's fantastic and I'm really grateful.

So, the point of all this is that I've been thinking today about why I have been so hesitant to put my blog out there, to make it more accessible to those who know me but haven't discovered it yet.  Part of it, maybe, is that I'm 50 to 140 pounds heavier than when some of those people last saw me (about 50 pounds heavier since college/TFA and 140 more than when I graduated high school).  Having only flattering pictures of myself on Facebook and things unrelated to my weight on my profile keep up the facade that I'm less fat than I actually am.  I mean, to someone who hasn't seen me since high school I'm only 220 pounds fat, not 360 pounds fat.  But if they read my blog, realize how big I actually am, and see that I'm one of "those" people, those gastric bypass people, then suddenly the possibility of me existing as a 220 pound fat person is extinguished.  Revolutionary to realize, but probably fairly common, I would think.  I mean, I can't be the only person that sort of avoids people from my past because I don't want them to see me until I'm thinner.  And, if you're like me, as your weight keeps creeping upward, your social life declines pretty much in direct proportion.  Tragic, really.

So then there's the other thing... I'm sure you noticed my "those" people comment in the above paragraph.  Silly things have been running through my mind, like those People "Half My Size" magazine specials.  I remember one cover in particular said, "No Surgery, No Gimmicks" in big, yellow block letters next to a few chicks who had lost more poundage than their current weight.  Literally cut in half by working hard.  The word association there suggests that surgery is a cheater's way out of obesity.  And random things, like a girl in high school commenting "I think really fat people should just get off of their asses and work hard to lose weight like everybody else and not cheat with some surgery" when gastric bypass was first hitting the scene as a way to tackle obesity, have spun around in my head, accusing me.

I know some people think gastric bypass, or any WLS, is cheating... but those people either a) aren't obese and don't understand it, don't realize that I can eat exactly what they do and work out as much as they do and never be thin like them, or b) do struggle with obesity but likewise struggle with their pride and think that if they can somehow beat obesity without surgery then it's better and more authentic than those who "take the easy way out" and get surgery; these people probably diet and exercise and have experienced nominal success and they probably are bitter against people who have had surgery and have lost drastically more weight.  I'm sure there are other reasons why people think WLS is cheating, but I absolutely fall into the b) category.  At least, I have.  Mainly because up until about 6 weeks ago WLS was financially out of the question.  I wanted it but thought it was simply out of reach for me.

I know I have some head issues to get over, but you know, not to sound all Obama-y here, for the first time in a long time I have hope regarding my weight.  Real hope, something concrete to build upon, and not just fleeting fantasies about a dream; a dream for which all the hard work in the world never has- and never will- help me realize.  Last night I stayed up a full hour past when I really should have gone to bed because I was looking through "before and after" pics on a website dedicated to those who have had / will have / are considering having WLS (weight loss surgery, for those who may be totally lost and pissed that I am using an acronym for which they have do clue what I am talking about).  You can check them out here , if you'd like.

The deal is, I am fat.  Really fat.  Fatter than the vast majority of people will ever get- fatter even than most fat people.  I can hide from that, be ashamed of it, and think I am proving something- mainly to myself, much as I try to mask it with the idea that it's for the approval of others- if I lose weight "the old-fashioned way".  Or, I can recognize that, for the vast majority of people including those significantly less obese than I, diet and exercise does not work in the long term, and I don't have the time to keep screwing around.  My body can't really handle being upwards of 400 pounds much longer.  It WILL start failing in major ways... thus far, frustrating as they may be, my health issues have been relatively minor; I can't afford to take this for granted.  I need to get this weight off of me- soon, and quickly.

A big myth is that people with WLS get kind of a free ticket.  I don't know how many people read the diet guidelines my doctor has posted on-line for his patients to follow post surgery but... um, it's not exactly happy happy joy joy fun time at the carnival.  I'd like to see the average person follow even the pre-surgery guidelines (page 4), let alone the clear liquid and liquid diet, onto mashing up food like a baby and basically saying adios to sweets and carbonated beverages, pretty much for life.  Plus, things like not being able to drink through a straw and having to only consume liquids 30 minutes before and / or after a meal, and having to sip, not gulp, liquids slowly- including water- constantly throughout the day... not easy, to say the least.  Plus, consistent strength training to retain lean muscle mass, plus cardio to blast even more fat away at a quicker pace, is required.  Surgery is not easy.  It's an advantage over classic diet and exercise to be sure- especially since it's been proven to actually work in the long term, among other things- and at best maybe it's a sort of shortcut, but it's not cheating or an easy way out.

Gastric bypass works.  It works really, really well  and has changed thousands (possibly millions; I don't know the stats) of peoples' lives.  People that used to look like me are now 150 pounds and really healthy and living in a way they never believed possible.  Gastric bypass takes my dreams and offers them to me as a reality.  I know that things can happen- insurance could, for some reason, deny me (though our coverage precludes them from doing so since it's a guaranteed coverage at 100% so long as I meet the medical qualifications, which I do), or, though I pray it never happens, Jason could get laid off and we could lose the coverage, or some crazy thing could happen (I could get pregnant, which would be sucky timing, though I'd trust God for His will) and this could fall through.  But so long as it's a real possibility I will trust God and I will seek to quit hoping to win the approval of man.

Something tells me that if I am 150 pounds two years from now I quite honestly won't give a damn what people think of me or my methods for how I lost the weight.  Until then, I need to quit worrying that people will think of me as being fat because... well, I am.  Maybe the chamber was loaded with bullet after bullet of genetics and environment and abuse, but I pull the trigger every time I overeat and I got myself into this mess. I can trip all over myself worrying about what others think or I can suck up my pride, have some real faith in my very real God that He is the only one whose opinion matters, and I can pursue this chance in a lifetime that He is giving me.

When I put it like that it all seems pretty simple.

I suppose that's because it is just that simple.  Get over myself, trust Jesus, change my life.

I'm working on it.

[Handlebars, Flobots]

I have an announcement to make, and I know some people won't like it.  But on with it...

I went to an informational seminar this evening, led by the surgeon I would have perform my WLS.  I prayed that I would learn something new and not just be bored hearing all of the stuff I have researched all over again, and I believe God answered that prayer.  I really liked Dr. Chebli- he is clearly very knowledgeable about obesity, morbid obesity (and super morbid obesity, etc.), and current research findings.  Jason and I were impressed with his vast knowledge about recent studies in particular.

See, I've been pretty sure I wanted to get a restrictive band surgery.  But recent long-term studies released by doctors in France found that after 10 years most patients with the band surgery regained weight, and they listed their findings of restrictive banding at a 60% failure rate.  Likewise, the Swiss released a similar study, this time at a 75% failure rate.  Not good.

Dr. Chebli believes this is because banding surgery does nothing to affect the metabolism, and that eventually the obese will regain the weight because their metabolism doesn't change and once food intake creeps back up to pre-surgery levels the person puts the weight back on.  His personal conviction is that banding is not a good option, particularly for the morbidly obese (anyone with a BMI over 40... mine's currently a 54.3... or maybe 54.7, I don't remember).  Just so you know, he does perform banding surgeries; he is honest with patients about the facts I shared here (and more) but if someone wants that surgery then so be it.  He actually doesn't specialize in one certain surgery, instead choosing to be an expert in like 5, because he doesn't want to become biased toward something that doesn't work simply because it's his specialty.  And he admits that the medical field will argue amongst themselves about these issues and it's only his personal convictions, but I was fascinated with the studies and was rather swayed.  Also, other studies have found that, for the morbidly obese, diet and exercise and / or weight loss drugs end up at a 100% failure rate in the long term for staying at or near a goal weight.  It just doesn't work.

Caveat here: I love The Biggest Loser.  But do you know why they don't do reunions?  It's because the vast majority of contestants end up regaining weight... some back to where they started or worse.  Think about it- would you keep watching if you saw Bernie from last season or Eric from New York or Matt and Suzy and they were all various degrees of overweight and obese again?  Even those who don't get back to where they were look nothing like our glorious last image of them at their smallest, thus our viewing of the current season would be tinged with cynicism.  And, really, if someone with all of the tools and success TBL allows can't succeed long-term, what hope is there for the rest of us, the simple people who didn't have Jillian or Bob literally riding their arse for 5 months, or all of the knowledge and 24 hour (probably free) memberships and Body Buggs and what have you?  We got nothing, and if they can't succeed, those TBL alums, then our outlook is pretty freaking bleak.

It was interesting, because he talked about the fact that the medical arena simply doesn't understand obesity.  They are beginning to, but they still don't quite get it.  Why some people can have caloric intake and exercise levels similar to a person who weighs 160 pounds yet that person weighs upwards of 300.  The fact is, there is stuff that goes on in the bodies of obese people, from hormones to insulin to metabolism to cravings and appetite and never feeling full, that simply doesn't make sense yet.  For this reason he strongly recommends surgeries with both restrictive (limits food intake) and malabsorptive  (limits absorption of food) aspects.

I am going to call tomorrow and schedule my first appointment with Dr. Chebli to get me on track to having surgery.  This is the first big decision- I am definitely going to pursue this, and if it all works out with insurance then I will have WLS.  Secondly, though I will speak with him and get his professional recommendation for which procedure to have, I am going to pursue having gastric bypass (or, it's medical name, Roux-en Y Gastric Bypass).  Jason and I discussed it, and after the seminar we simply feel it is the best option for me.

I know there are risks- some people have leaks, or problems with dumping , or develop lactose intolerance (my personal biggest fear.  I can handle getting medical issues fixed, but never having milk again?  So scary.), or get pulmonary emoboli (blood clots blocking veins... well usually a pulmonary embolism, not multiple), etc. Dr. Chebli did reassure me that so long as I follow the plan and take the correct vitamin supplements in addition to prenatal vitamins there are no complications with malnutrition in pregnancy (including breastfeeding).  The risk of dying on the table is slightly higher with gastric bypass (though out of nearly 600 surgeries, Dr. Chebli has never lost a patient.  In fact, he was rated the best bariatric surgeon in Seattle two years in a row by Seattle Magazine, which is considered fairly prestigious around here) but that number is still very low.

Here's the thing, though-- even if I have complications, and they suck, I recognize that they will not be worse than my life right now.  Because right now I feel imprisoned in my own body.  I can't go to concerts (there was a horrible experience at Key Arena last year, where I went to a concert and I didn't fit in the seat and it was digging into me and I was in tears; finally a nice aisle monitor asked if I'd like to sit in a chair in the disabled section after seeing me squirm for an hour and I quickly obliged), I can't go to baseball games save for the bleacher seats at Safeco (where the Mariners play) and I can't go to a Seahawks game at all (I can't stand for 4 hours and I know I won't fit in the seats).  I pretty much never want to go anywhere.  Last weekend I told  my husband I didn't feel well and bailed on going out for a drink with a friend of his... truly, I didn't feel well.  But it was in part because I feared the seating situation and mainly because I'd be meeting the friend's girlfriend and I've seen pictures of her, and she's really pretty, and though she seems incredibly nice I was intimidated and afraid that she wouldn't want to talk to me because I'm so fat.

Listen, anyone who has known me for any length of time knows that girl, the scared-to-meet-people-hermit, is not me.  I'm usually the life of the party, the funny chick that everyone is drawn to.  I mean this with humility, but I can't tell you how many times in my life I have been told my smile lights up a room- including once by my old principal, when I was a teacher, in front of 60 some odd other staff in a meeting.  But that Tami is fading.  I want her to stay, but she's disappearing.  It seems that every additional pound on my body strips another layer of her away.  I am becoming cynical and incessantly negative.  I have constant health issues and I keep trying to be positive, even asking Jesus to help me stay focused on Him, and I feel like I am losing the battle.

I don't want to be this way.  I am trying desperately not to be.  Yet, here I am, and it's getting worse.

What do I do?  Keep plugging away at the diet and exercise program that isn't working?  Listen to me, heart disease runs in my family.  I don't have problems with cholesterol yet, but I have an aunt who weighed less than me, nearly 75 pounds less and about my height, who died of a massive heart attack at age 43.  I was only about 7 at the time, and to be honest it scared the hell out of me.  I'm barely 27 years old, and my quality of life is worse than most 72 year olds.  Really, to tell you the whole truth, I would rather die from complications of weight loss surgery, pursuing my goal of losing weight and actually living, than to remain trapped in this body and to keep on dying slowly.

I don't believe I will die, though.  I won't pretend I'm not a little scared- it's a major surgery.  But then I look at my incredible husband, I envision holding a little baby who is the combination of us, watching him grow, having brothers and sisters for him, holding their children, being active and living a long and healthy life and growing old with my husband, and I know that I must do this.  I haven't had tests done, because we're not trying to have babies yet, but I know in my heart that I already have issues of infertility due to my weight.  I simply know it.  I'm going to be tested for PCOS , and I'm so fat that for the ultrasound they have to poke a camera on a stick up my vag (and by vag I mean vagina) because there's too much stomach fat to do a normal ultrasound.  I'm so looking forward to that one, trust me.

The point is, no longer am I the chubby fun girl (woman, whatever) who is mostly comfortable with herself and who just enjoys life, loving Jesus and loving people.  Obesity is changing me, and diet and exercise aren't working.  I'm not lazy.  I'm not eating like a glutton.  I'm legitimately trying to lose weight and my screwy metabolism clings to the pounds as if I were starving.  Gastric bypass not only limits food intake and limits absorption of calories and fat, but it's been found to actually change people's metabolisms, to speed them up. I know that I won't be one of those people who lose weight and then eat like a buffoon and get fat again- I know my life will change and it will be for the good and it will be incredible.  Even if I have complications it will be worth it.

So, insomuch as insurance continues to comply and my doctor agrees it's the best option, and as long as Jason's and my consciences remain clear before God as we pray, I am going to have gastric bypass surgery.