Happy (Kinda) "Birthday" to me!

Today is momentous for many reasons. First and foremost, today is the six month anniversary since my surgery. It’s like a half year birthday, except instead of cake, ice cream and presents, I get fruit, water and smaller pants. And on this anniversary of my rebirth, I am happy to share that I have lost…..drum roll, please…… 95 pounds!! Now, if you are reading this you are probably like holy-shitballs-and-mother-of-mercy-that’s-a lot-of-weight, but I have to admit I am a little miffed at my body for being a complete asshole. I set this completely unattainable goal of losing 100 pounds in 6 months. At about the four month mark I didn’t think it was possible to even get close. I stalled out like a rusty Yugo full of fat clowns on more than one occasion and was tempted to drop kick my surgeon in the nut sack. But over the course of the last two months, the weight was flying off. I mean I lost almost 30 pounds in just two months. So my hopes were raised higher than Don King’s hair and I was sure I would be able to pull off that last 10 pounds with no problem. Then I only had 5 pounds and one week to go. Surely, I could do this! I had my husband and daughter hide my scale so I wouldn’t obsess all week, I started my water aerobics classes and was running every other day……and then yesterday happened. One day before my “birthday”.

I was looking through my daughter’s desk to find some tape, when lo and behold I stumbled across my arch nemesis. The scale. That saucy little bitch who rarely tells me the things I want to hear and who taunts me daily, daring me not to exercise or to indulge in a cookie. The whore who mocks me, sometimes for weeks at a time, with little to no weight loss. The dirty little mistress who even manages to shock me on occasion with good news, more than likely out of fear of being smashed in the backyard with a sledge hammer.

So, there she was, looking up at me all glib and shit, daring me to step on and take a look. And being the moron that I am I thought to myself, “it’s only one more day till the weigh in anyway, maybe I should just see how great I have done this week”. True to form, the bitch royally fucked up my day. Because despite all the swimming and running and gross fat person sweating that I have done all week, the scale did. not. move. one. pound. I stood there completely dumbfounded as to how this could be true. Was I bloated? Retaining water? Carrying a fetus inside my vacant and non-existent uterus? Perhaps I was backed up and carrying 10 pounds of poop inside my intestines? Because there is NO WAY I worked this hard to stall out now. So after I kicked the scale across the room, threw it back in the drawer, threw a temper tantrum, cried to my mommy and vowed never to work out again, I came to my senses.

I mean, so what if I didn’t lose 100 pounds in 6 months? I am still in a better place now than I have ever been in my life. I am happier and healthier and doing things I never thought would be possible. Like completing my first 5k on September 11, 2010. Look, I swear, I did it!

































I walked/ran it and it was incredible! I’m taking water aerobics and yoga and hiking and running and these are things I never could have done six months ago. The rest of the weight will fall off, of this I am certain, and I need to take a step back and remember how far I have come on this long and winding journey. I'm gonna stop crying, put on my big girl panties and deal with this in the best way I know how.....by moving forward. And running over the stupid scale in my driveway.

Now, this hasn’t been all sunshine and roses, just to be clear. Besides the weight loss setbacks, I have experienced everything from “dumping syndrome” to constant nausea to a raging case of hemorrhoids, but it has all been worth it to look in the mirror and begin to like what I see. The struggles I have with food and wanting to eat to satisfy my emotional needs is lessening everyday. The sweet-baby-jesus-and-holy-mother-of-mary hot flashes are still controlling my life, but at least I’m not eating my way through the day anymore. And whereas before I used to mourn the loss of food and eating whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, I am learning to embrace the idea that we eat to live, rather than live to eat. It’s all very eye opening and enlightening and all that spiritual crap that people say that makes you want to smack them while you sit there happily eating a cake roll.

So, new goal…..

For my one year “birthday” my goal is to be confident enough in what I have achieved to post a before and after pic along with my actual starting weight and my present weight. I was thinking of a tastefully artsy nudie pic for your entertainment, but until I learn how to airbrush out my stretch marks and cellulite and make myself look like Demi Moore in Striptease, that ain’t gonna happen.