Life as a skinny girl

Originally published April 29, 2006, in Our Town for the Tracy Press.

As a rule, I don’t leave Tracy much. I grew up in a small community, and the mall is enough to keep me in town on weekends. Having a Trader Joe’s or a Whole Foods would almost guarantee I’d never leave, but such decisions are not for me to make.

Because I stick close to home, I don’t meet many people who don’t already know about me, either through this column or mutual friends. At the least, strangers know I’ve lost a significant amount of weight; at the most, they know I’ve had gastric-bypass surgery.

My recent trip to Virginia was the first time I was able to interact with people who had no clue of my history. It was a trip, in more ways than one.

My cousin (pictured above with me), who has been my biggest fan my whole life, treated me as she always has. She just kept pointing out all the things we were doing that we never would have done before, like trekking for miles around Washington, D.C., in the pouring rain without having to stop for me to catch my breath.

For her, my visit was profound because the rest of the world could see me for the person she had always seen hidden within a fortress of fat. She commented on my emerging confidence, my posture, my openness. And we spent a lot of time discussing my interactions with others.

Despite losing 175 pounds, I still have the emotional core of someone who is morbidly obese. I’ve always identified myself as a “big girl” with all the positives and negatives that accompany that label. It took 48 hours for me on this trip to realize how my perception of myself is quite different from that of others.

What was my first clue? Somebody made fun of fat people in front of me. Yup. You read that right; somebody actually made a rude comment about overweight people in my presence. I was so shocked that I couldn’t even speak.

At first, I got hot in face with embarrassment and rage. How dare somebody say such a thing to me and laugh? Did they have any idea who they were dealing with? And then the truth hit me like a ton of bricks: No, they didn’t. I looked down at myself and the people who had joined us for lunch and realized no one had any reason to see me as being different. Size-wise, I was average. There were a couple of people a little bigger than me, a couple of people about the same size as me and a couple smaller than me.

Looking at me, they couldn’t tell I used to be morbidly obese. They had no idea how offensive such a comment was to me. And, I’m ashamed to admit, I had no idea how to bring it up. I thought about a simple, “Uhh … that’s not cool,” comment, but what if the response was, “Why do you care? You’re not fat”? Should I say, “Yeah, well, I used to be, and comments like that still offend me”? Maybe, but I didn’t think I needed to be that blunt. The fact is that my past wasn’t their business. In hindsight, an appropriate response to such a challenge could have been, “Yeah, well I’m not black either, but racist jokes still offend me.”

I tried to shrug off the comment. It was a five-word sentence at most. And it was more a thoughtless comment than an outright insult. Thinking back, the rudeness was more inferred than implied. A woman made a comment about “fat chicks” being attracted to her husband and made an “uggh” sound to show her displeasure. But the fact is that if I had sat at that table a year ago, she never would have uttered the sentence.

The worst of it is that I’ve spent more time thinking about the comment than anybody else, particularly the speaker. Did I let it ruin my good time? No. But I did let it make me feel bad about myself. And I did because I have a secret fear. I am afraid that I will get so caught up in the new me and the positive attention this new body brings that I’ll forget who I used to be.

Those who have read my column from its inception know that I did not have gastric-bypass because I wanted to be thin. There were health problems that required drastic weight loss; if I thought there was another solution to those problems, I might have chosen a different path. Spending two decades dealing with morbid obesity shaped my character. As much as I cringe when I think of all the teasing and discrimination I suffered back then, those experiences are what led me to become the compassionate person I am today. For the most part, I like her. Sure, I’d like her to be a little more confident, maybe show a little more backbone at times, but she’s an all-around great person — imperfections and all.

I don’t ever want to lose my connection to my past, and my inability to speak on my own behalf at lunch that day made me feel it was slipping away.

In truth, I never would have been successful at losing weight over the last year if I had not changed. But it’s important to me that the “new Tonya” is a combination of the best parts of super-size Tonya and normal-size Tonya. I like to call it the “new normal,” in a whole new world.

Busy weekend

My week of R&R is shaping up to be quite busy. I may not have as much time to post here as I had planned.

Tonight is pretty open, but we're leaving for D.C. at 4 a.m. tomorrow to go to the Cherry Blossom Festival. We're driving to meet up with some friends in Maryland, and then we plan to take the Metro into D.C. After a day of blossom fanfare (grand parade, good eats and lots of music), we're hoping to catch a few winks before checking out nightlife in the city. On Sunday, we're going to see the landmarks and then drive back to Virginia. On Monday, we're going to check out Busch Gardens and other sights in Williamsburg. And I hope to get a few winks before flying out early Tuesday.

Bon voyage

Flying is definitely easier as a normal size person. It's not that I thought it would be otherwise, but part of me just thought flying was a pain for everyone.

After spending a day at airports (from San Jose to Dallas to Norfolk, Va.), I can categorically say the trip was like none I've ever experienced.

Though I could ramble on about differences noted throughout my journey, I think the most remarkable changes were felt on the plane. Not only did I have ample legroom in the coach cabin, but I had at least two inches of room on either side of me to spare in the seat. I didn't have the arm rests cutting into my hips. I didn't need to worry about crowding the passenger next to me.

Not needing a seat-belt extender made this trip so much more pleasant than my last. There is nothing more embarassing than having to ask a flight attendant for one and wait -- patiently -- while one is tracked down while nearby passengers glare at you for delaying takeoff.

Ooh...and let's not forget the tray table. Not only did it fully lower, it did so without touching my belly or thighs. I could actually cross my legs beneath it!

What to eat
The only real challenge was food. Most airlines no longer provide in-flight meals. That's not so bad for the average passenger. The sandwiches sold in airport cafes for $9 each are probably immensely better than what used to pass for food on the flight. But for someone who's had WLS, planning is essential.

I talked to other post-ops who are frequent flyers to get tips, and I must say I benefitted from their expertise. Everyone I spoke with agreed that the most important thing to do is pack protein-rich foods. Such foods would provide the necessary energy for a day of traveling, but also help keep me on track. After all, I wouldn't want to arrive at my destination too weak to have any fun.

I packed two cans of Snack & Slim pudding (each has 20g of protein and is sugar free), three sticks of string cheese (8g of protein each), two EAS AdvantEdge Carb Control protein bars (21g of protein each), one EAS AdvantEdge Carb Control RTD (15g of protein) and a scoop of IsoFruit protein cocktail mixed in 28 oz of water (21g of protein).

Traveling messes with my internal clock, and I wasn't sure what to make of my intermittent feelings of hunger. At some points, I felt like I was eating too much, others not enough. But in the end, I did OK. Unfortunately, I didn't pack enough for the return trip.

By midnight Wednesday, I had eaten one of the puddings, three cheese sticks, the EAS drink, one protein bar (eaten in two intervals) and about half of the IsoFruit cocktail (the cantaloupe-melon flavor is quite tasty). That accounted for about 90 grams of protein and roughly 650 calories.

Feeling parched
The one thing I didn't do well with is drinking water. Including the IsoFruit drink, I packed 60 oz of water. I'm supposed to drink 80 oz a day, but I thought 60 would be good enough. The problem is that I don't like to use the restroom on airplanes, and that encourages me to drink less water than I should. By the end of the day, I had only consumed about 30 oz of fluid...not good.

Ready to fly

In just a little more than 24 hours, I'll be boarding a plane for the first time in five years. I'm looking forward to noticing the differences between traveling by air as a plus-sized woman and traveling in my new body.

I wouldn't exactly say I'm ready for the experience. I haven't packed yet. In fact, I still have to do a load of laundry before I can consider packing, and I have two more hours of work before I can even consider heading home. But once I'm on the plane, I'm sure it'll all be worth it.

Check back here periodically over the next few days; I plan to blog during my trip. Maybe I'll even figure out how to use a digital camera and post pictures of the sights I take in.

Who you callin' skinny?

Originally published April 1, 2006, in Our Town for the Tracy Press

Lately, a few well-meaning friends and acquaintances have taken it upon themselves to tell me that I should be done losing weight. Take the janitor at my office. About a month or so ago, she exclaimed that I was too skinny.

“You have no legs,” she cried when she saw me, and then she asked if I was going to lose any more weight. I told her that I would, that I was still considered overweight. “Your doctor can say what he wants, but doctors don’t know everything,” she said. “To me, you are too skinny and you need to stop losing weight.”

This is funny, because according to the body-mass index, I’m at the high end of being overweight. I would have to lose more than 30 more pounds to be at the high end of normal. I mentioned this to my doctor when I was trying to pin her down on a goal weight for me last week at my one-year follow-up.

Aside from refusing to give me a magic number — “I’d rather you settle into a healthy permanent lifestyle and let your weight stabilize from there” — she pondered what makes people feel they can butt into the business of others.

“You know, nobody ever goes up to an obese person and says, ‘Whoa, you’re too fat; you must lose weight.’”

She’s right. What is it that makes the average, polite, tactful person say rude, insensitive things to those who are nearing their weight-loss goals? Or is the person doing the losing just too thin-skinned? I think there are a variety of answers to the questions, but what I think isn’t always correct, so I posed the question in an e-mail to some people I know in the surgical weight-loss community to see what they thought on the subject.

Theresa White of West Virginia had Roux-En-Y gastric bypass in 2003, and she remembers getting the same type of comments when she was about 30 pounds from goal.

“It was usually people who weighed about 120, and sometimes, I wondered if they were just jealous or afraid I would get smaller than they were,” she wrote back. “I just tried not to let it bother me. But it did bother me. It made me wonder how they could think I was so small, yet I still had several pounds to go.”

But Theresa was quick to point out that these hurtful comments didn’t deter her from her goal. Instead, they just made her think a little differently about it.

“Goal for me was no longer a number; it was to be healthy and look healthy.”

Rhonda Velasquez of Tennessee is waiting for weight-loss surgery, but she wrote that she’s experienced the same attitudes from people when she’s lost weight in the past.

“Men never told me I was too skinny, but I noticed women had no trouble discussing my size or weight.”

I have to admit that, like Rhonda, I’m not getting “too skinny” comments from men. Only other women say such things. But I wonder if they are really malicious.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that nobody in my life has ever seen me as thin as I am today. I have always been obese. If I had lost 167 pounds over the course of two or three years, those around me would have had more time to adjust to the new me. And for those who don’t see me every day, the new me can be truly shocking compared to the me of a year ago or more.

To be honest, being called skinny is something I could get used to. It’s a novelty to me, and I believe most people who say it know that and do it to make me feel good. But it also reminds me to pay attention. I don’t want to get so enamored of being thin that I go into dangerous territory and risk my health.

What is perfection?

I spent some time this weekend on one of my favorite WLS message boards. A few of us on the board complimented the site administrator and others for setting such good examples for the rest of us.

The administrator was quick to post that she is far from perfect. She mentioned that she occasionally indulges in a bite or three of some of her old favorite foods that aren't WLS-friendly, such as pizza. Her strategy is to take a bite (or two or three) of the food as it's presented before picking it apart. So, she'll nibble a little of the pizza as is, and then just eat the toppings before trashing the crust.

This works for her, because eating just a bit of the food as is keeps her from feeling deprived.
To me, this sounds like perfection for a WLS patient. Why? Because if I try that same method, I end up eating the topping and then nibbling on the crust. And if I'm not careful, I'd eat the whole slice before realizing it.

I'm just not the three-bite type. Fear enables this trick to work for me when trying cheesecake or chocolate mousse. But for whatever reason, pizza is a weakness -- and three bites is never enough. And that's why this woman is perfect in my book.

WLS and blood pressure

A Reuters story reports that a recent study found a significant reduction in high blood pressure after gastric-bypass surgery.

According to the story, published Monday, March 20: "Patients who had not been taking drugs to treat their hypertension prior to surgery saw a significant easing of their blood pressure afterward, and some of those on anti-hypertension drugs were able to stop taking them, according to a study published in the Archives of Surgery."

So far, I have not been as fortunate as the group studied. My blood pressure, though significantly lower than before I had weight loss surgery, still hovers around 140/100.
Click here to read the whole story.

V-Day indulgence while staying on track

Originally published Feb. 11, 2006, in Our Town for the Tracy Press.

Valentine’s Day is just around the corner, and I’m very excited. Before having gastric-bypass surgery, V-Day excited me because it meant a gold box of See’s Candies truffles, a dozen red roses and dinner at Fabio’s, with the restaurant’s famed chocolate mousse cake for dessert. Cliché, yes, but I loved every bite of it. Roses are still a favorite, but See’s Candies is no longer in the game plan. I’ve become vigilant about avoiding sugar and staying on the straight and narrow path when it comes to eating.

Since moving into a condo a month ago, I’ve also become more domestic. I spend a lot more time in the kitchen, at least. All this time in the kitchen has been good: I eat better, and I’ve had lots of fun experimenting with bariatric-friendly recipes. So it’s no surprise that, when planning a romantic Valentine’s dinner for my husband, I would dig out my dog-eared copy of “Before and After: Living & Eating Well After Weight Loss Surgery” by Susan Maria Leach for inspiration.
I settled on Shrimp Creole, which I’ll serve over rice for my husband and over steamed zucchini for me. Dessert will be chocolate genoise — a very moist cake made with little flour.

The further out I get from surgery, the more I realize that my day-to-day battle with food doesn’t differ much from anyone else’s. I can eat more now than I could six months ago, and that means I now have to carefully watch my portions to avoid overeating. I also have to watch the amount of fat I eat and limit snacking so I don’t go overboard on calorie consumption.

I think a lot of New Year’s resolutions go out the window around Valentine’s Day because people decide to give themselves a free day of eating and never get back on track. Soon, they stop going to the gym, stop caring about what they eat and end up exactly where they were the previous year.

That’s why a recent e-mail from a Weight Watchers representative caught my eye. Instead of admonishing people to steer clear of holiday decadence, WW spokeswoman Wendy Yellin offered tips for building planned indulgence into a weight-loss plan.

“If you avoid things that you love (like chocolate), you set yourself up for failure and bingeing,” Yellin wrote. “We want to teach folks about portion control and how to enjoy life while they are losing weight.”

Yellin has two different ideas of what people could do to prevent Valentine’s Day from getting them off track.The first is about common sense: Exercising a little extra each day for a week can help negate the effects of one day’s indulgence, as can scaling back the calories. If you typically enjoy a 16-ounce Starbucks Coffee mocha, you can save between 300 and 400 calories for each day you abstain. If you skipped Starbucks all next week, you could build up a bank of almost 2,000 calories to allow for any Valentine’s indiscretions.

Yellin’s other idea is to make lower-calorie versions of decadent desserts so you can indulge without shame.The recipes she shares — all available at www.weightwatchers.com — are not bariatric-friendly, but they do look yummy, and I’d love to hear from any readers who test them.

Shrimp Creole
Serves four

Bariatric ½ portion: 117 calories, 3g fat, 7g carbs, 15g protein

1 tablespoon olive oil
½ cup chopped onions
½ cup chopped celery
½ cup diced green bell peppers
2 garlic cloves, chopped
1 16-ounce can diced tomatoes with juice
1 8-ounce can tomato sauce
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon Creole seasoning blend, such as Tony Chachere’s
2 teaspoons Tabasco sauce, plus extra to taste
1 teaspoon cornstarch
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
1½ lbs. large shrimp, peeled and deveined

Saute the onions, celery, peppers and garlic in the olive oil in a covered nonstick skillet over medium heat until the vegetables are softened. Add the tomatoes, tomato sauce, Worcestershire, Creole seasoning and Tabasco. Cover the pan, reduce the heat and simmer for 45 minutes, or until the vegetables are tender. Blend the cornstarch with 1 tablespoon water, stir into the sauce and cook until the mixture thickens. Season with salt, pepper and extra Tabasco to taste. Add the shrimp, cover and simmer four to five minutes, until the shrimp is pink and just cooked through.
Copyright: “Before and After: Living & Eating Well After Weight Loss Surgery” by Susan Maria Leach

Chocolate Genoise
Serves 10

Full portion: 107 calories, 7g fat, 7.5g carbs, 5.2g protein

Take this basic chocolate layer cake over the top by making it into a sugar-free black forest torte. Spoon a little sugar-free pie filling over a wedge of chocolate genoise, dust the edge with confectioners’ sugar and top it with Splenda-sweetened whipped cream. This cake must be refrigerated after the first 24 hours because Splenda is not a preservative.

Vegetable oil cooking spray
½ cup all-purpose flour
½ cup Dutch-processed cocoa (Droste is an excellent brand)
6 large eggs, at room temperature
1 cup Splenda Granular
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 tablespoons salted butter, melted

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Spray the bottom and sides of a 9-inch round cake pan with cooking spray, line the bottom with a round of wax paper and spray again.Sift the flour and cocoa together into a large bowl using a fine mesh strainer and set aside.
Combine the eggs and Splenda in a glass bowl, beating with an electric mixer on high until double in volume, about five minutes. Set the bowl over a pan of simmering water to slightly warm the egg mixture and continue beating for another five to seven minutes, until the mixture is the consistency of softly whipped cream. Beat in the vanilla.
Lightly fold the flour and cocoa into the eggs, about one-third at a time, using a large rubber scraper and cutting through the batter, being careful not to deflate the mixture too much. Fold in the butter until just incorporated and pour into the prepared pan.
Bake for 15 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool for 10 minutes, turn out onto a cake rack and carefully peel off the paper.
Copyright: “Before and After: Living & Eating Well After Weight Loss Surgery” by Susan Maria Leach

Chocolate Chip Peanut Butter Pie
Serves 10

7 POINTS* per slice

½ cup reduced-fat peanut butter
4 ounces light cream cheese
4 ounces fat-free cream cheese
12 ounces fat-free sweetened condensed milk
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 cup light whipped topping, thawed
5 tablespoons mini chocolate chips, divided
6 ounce pie crust

In a large bowl, using an electric mixer, beat together peanut butter and both types of cream cheese until smooth. Gradually beat in milk and lemon juice; fold in whipped topping and 4 tablespoons of mini chocolate chips. Spoon peanut butter mixture into prepared pie crust; sprinkle remaining 1 tablespoon of chocolate chips over top. Cover with plastic wrap and chill in refrigerator at least 4 hours. Chill overnight if you prefer a firmer pie texture.
Copyright: Weightwatchers.com

Chocolate Turtle Cookies
Serves 24

2 POINTS* per cookie

1 cup all-purpose flour
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa
2/3 cup sugar
¼ cup reduced-calorie margarine
¼ cup fat-free cream cheese
1 large egg white(s)
2 tablespoons fat-free skim milk
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 spray cooking spray
24 pieces caramel candies
24 pieces pecan halves

Combine flour and cocoa in a small bowl; set aside. Beat together sugar, margarine, cream cheese, egg whites, milk and vanilla extract in a large bowl; add flour mixture and blend well. Chill dough at least 30 minutes, or until firm. Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Lightly coat two baking sheets with cooking spray.Shape dough into 1-inch balls; place on baking sheets about 1 to 2 inches apart. Press a caramel into each cookie and flatten; top each caramel with a pecan half. Bake for 10 minutes. Allow cookies to cool on baking sheets and then remove to a wire rack to cool completely.
Copyright: Weightwatchers.com

Breaking through a plateau

Originally published Jan. 28, 2006, in Our Town for the Tracy Press.

After three long months of hovering around 180, I’ve finally overcome my first plateau since having gastric-bypass surgery. Though I expected my weight loss to stall and knew it was normal, that didn’t make it any easier to deal with.The first month, I was OK with the slowdown. I knew my body needed to catch up and figure out how it wanted to distribute my weight. I welcomed the occasion as a milestone. After the second month of no movement on the scale, I got nervous. Now, I knew I was at a plateau for sure. I started to wonder whether I would lose any more weight at all and how I felt about that. Though I felt great at 180, I decided that I deserved to find out whether losing another 20 or 30 pounds would make me feel even better.

Once I decided I wasn’t ready to stop losing weight, I read up on weight-loss plateaus and how to go about breaking through them. My friends in the surgical weight-loss community suggested logging my food intake and weighing my portions to make sure I wasn’t getting lax on my eating program. They also suggested I go back to eating on a schedule to prevent snacking. I hadn’t been that cautious about my fat intake throughout this process, figuring that I wasn’t eating large enough portions to matter. But I started paying close attention and logging my meals on fitday.com to see my daily nutrient totals. Still, the scale didn’t budge.

I reread all my fitness magazines that had articles on the subject. Most of them had tips similar to my friends’ suggestions. A few suggested changing up my workout routine, saying a plateau is often a sign that the body has gotten used to its fitness demands. I was nonplussed; I had already tried that. But one of the articles had an interesting tip tacked on at the end. It suggested that if all else failed, taking a two-week break from exercise might do the trick. Sometimes, the body just needs a break, it concluded.

That seemed a little too out there for me, but I inadvertently put the tip to the test when I took two weeks off from working out. One week, I was overwhelmed with juggling work and personal commitments and decided to take the gym out of the equation. I had to take the second week off after I pulled a muscle in my back. I hadn’t weighed myself since Dec. 24, because I was too frustrated with the standstill. But I pulled it out last weekend after deciding that I was finally ready to face it. That, and my jeans were starting to get baggy, which made me think there was a good chance the scale would show movement.

Imagine my delight when I stepped on the scale and it registered 171 pounds. Progress, at last. It’ll be interesting to see what happens next. Some bypass patients don’t lose much weight after their first anniversary. Others drop another 40 to 60 pounds. I don’t want to lose 60 pounds; I know that for sure. But I wouldn’t mind seeing another 30 or 35 go bye-bye. Time will tell, that I know. For now, I’ll enjoy going to clothing stores in search of size 12 pants that I can zip up.

There has to be at least one pair out there.

Manufacturers catch up to their supersized consumers

Originally published Jan. 14, 2006, in Our Town for the Tracy Press.

Ever since I can remember, there has been a quiet denial in our society of those who don’t fit within acceptable size standards.I remember desperately wanting a Jockey bra-and-panty set when I was in the fifth grade. All of my friends had them, and they were enviably cute. Not only did the cotton set match, they had the coolest elastic bands that went around the rib cage on the bra and the waist on the panties in contrasting colors. Sadly, Jockey did not make these sets for an almost-200-pound girl. These lingerie sets were more about style than function.

Looking back, I imagine they were created for pre-pubescent girls to emulate their older sisters and moms. But when I was 10, I needed support, and that didn’t come in a stylish manner. I remember begrudgingly nodding when my mom would point out various styles of Playtex’s 18-Hour bras. As if the lace was supposed to make me feel as cool as the other girls at school. I didn’t throw a temper tantrum about not getting what I wanted. I wasn’t a naïve kid. I knew my size limited my choices and that I needed to be happy with what I got.

As I grew up, I became bitter at the industries that seemed to ignore consumers of my size. By the time I was in college, I realized that I had a choice. As a consumer, I could use the power of my dollar to make a statement by supporting size-friendly businesses. An added bonus was that it was less embarrassing to tell my friends I only bought clothes at Lane Bryant because I liked how the store empowered plus-size women to be fashionable instead of admitting that I couldn’t find clothes in regular stores that fit me.

After working in the casual-dining industry, I discovered that most restaurants kept armless chairs handy for larger customers. Before being seated, I would often ask for a table with those chairs. Occasionally, I’d get a blank look from a hostess, but I would stand my ground to prevent the embarrassment of a companion not being able to fit in a booth or wedge herself into a standard-size chair.

Little did I know that manufacturers were starting to take notice of the expanding girth of their consumers.

I bought a brand-new Mitsubishi in 2003. To be honest, I didn’t want another Mitsubishi. I had just totaled a Mirage. It seemed to be a courtship with disaster to replace it with similar car. But when I researched cars, I came upon a startling fact: The 2003 Mitsubishi Lancer had seats a few inches wider than any other car in its class. Not only that, but the seat belts were six inches longer, and there was an extra inch or two of head and leg room. The Lancer became a desired car because it would comfortably accommodate both me and my tall, skinny husband.

Two weeks ago, USA Today reported that other automakers have followed suit. Honda’s 2006 Civic offers front seats almost an inch wider than its 2005 model, according to an article published Jan. 3. Mercedes-Benz and Subaru have done the same in some of their models marketed to U.S. customers.

And it’s not just automakers who’ve noticed their consumer base growing in width. Scripps Howard News Service reports that coffin-makers are increasing the size of their caskets to meet the needs of larger people. It’s a lucrative move, if you believe the Trust for America’s Health study that blames obesity for 400,000 American deaths each year.

Caskets used to be built with a standard interior width of 22 to 24 inches, according to the article published last April. Southern Heritage Casket Co., in Oxford, Ala., offers a line of oversize caskets up to 44 inches wide. Batesville Casket Co. of Indiana offers 13 oversize models under its Dimensions brand.Indiana’s Goliath Casket Co. gives new meaning to the term “supersize.”

The company now offers a 52-inch casket — which is a little bit wider than a standard pickup, according to the company’s owner.

“The 44-inch, 48-inch, 52-inch are for body weights between 650 and 1,200 pounds,” owner Keith Davis said in the SHNS article. “There are extra supports to make sure the weight doesn’t cause the casket to break.”

On one hand, I’m happy to see manufacturers finally realize that our society is not the same size as the celebrities it covets. On the other, I find this trend depressing.I think we should all be accepted for whatever size we are, but the fact that there is a market out there for coffins that support corpses between 650 and 1,200 pounds proves that obesity is truly epidemic — and we pay for it with our lives.

Nothing tastes as good as being healthy feels

Originally published Dec. 31, 2005, in Our Town for the Tracy Press.

As the year comes to a close, it’s a good time to reflect on the past while looking forward to the future. For me, that means it’s also a good time to clean up the office and go through the notebooks collecting dust on my desk.This week’s column will be devoted to the questions I’m most commonly asked that I never find the space to address here. I’ll skip the champagne this year, and instead toast the new year with the following odds and ends:

How do you feel?
The short answer is: GREAT. But I find that’s usually not enough for most people. The long answer is that before I had gastric-bypass surgery, I had no clue how unhealthy I was. I know that sounds odd, because I had the surgery to improve my health. But the truth is that when you’ve been obese all of your life, you don’t understand the definition of healthy and can’t imagine what it feels like. My world was so small before that I didn’t realize what I was missing.I take pleasure in the little things that most people take for granted: having a seat belt fasten easily around me, rolling around on the floor with my niece and nephew, stooping to pick something up that’s fallen on the ground. These are simple tasks, but they are ones I spent a long time avoiding.

What do you miss?
Nothing. There was nothing so remarkable about my former life that’s worth missing. I’ve have talked to other post-ops who miss the ability to gorge on food or to eat whatever they want on a whim. I went through that stage briefly the first three months after surgery. But I barely remember what I thought I missed back then. I know I don’t miss the things I thought I would, such as ice cream and fast food. I don’t crave Jack in the Box anymore, and I’m not tempted by the smell of the Golden Arches.

Do you have extra skin?
I’ve avoided this issue in my column because I think it’s become cliché. It seems that every news story or talk show that discusses surgical weight loss brings up issues and concerns with excess skin and the cosmetic surgery that’s often needed to eliminate it. Personally, it’s not much of a concern for me at the moment. Sure, there are parts of me that aren’t that pretty uncovered, but that was true before I lost 155 pounds. I look better now in clothing than I ever have before, and that’s good enough for me.I might feel differently 20 or 40 pounds from now, but for now, I can accept the results of my weight loss.

Would you do it again?
In a heartbeat. Nothing has ever tasted as good as how I feel right now. Even when I’m in the throes of a dumping episode, I don’t regret my decision to have gastric bypass. This is the best decision I’ve ever made. As I’ve gotten healthier, I’ve become a better worker, a better wife and a better person. I’m more productive at my job because I don’t get sick as often. I’m more available to my husband because I’m not tired all the time. And I’m easier to be around because I’m in a better mood and have a more positive outlook on life.

Nursing a war wound

Originally published Dec. 24, 2005, in Our Town for the Tracy Press.

Life has certainly changed for me in the last 10 months. Before having gastric-bypass surgery, I was more likely to pull a hamstring from jumping to conclusions than from actually moving. When I started writing this column a year ago, I took the elevator every day to my second-story office. I was 27 years old, but I felt like I was 70. In fact, a 75-year-old woman in the office often ran circles around me.

Fast forward to now: I’m nursing a still-tender nose from a workout accident that occurred earlier in the week. My workouts are far from dangerous. I haven’t yet realized my dream of rock climbing. My exercise partner isn’t even sure my hand-eye coordination is advanced enough to attempt racquetball. But I am more adventurous than ever.

As my weight loss has slowed over the past couple of months, my motivation has moved from the numbers on the scale to what I accomplish at the gym each morning. I’ve stepped up my cardio workout by using the Cybex Arc crosstrainer. At first, the Arc felt a little awkward to me, because I was accustomed to the elliptical trainer.The Arc is more of a glider and feels deceptively easy because there is little strain felt in the knees and hips. Yet a 20-minute mile on it leaves me dripping with sweat. Going the same distance in the same time on the treadmill or elliptical trainer would have me barely glistening.

My strength-training program is still focused on using free weights, but my ab workout has gotten more interesting. My abs have never been strong, nor have I concentrated on them much in the past. It’s hard to get motivated about exercising muscles hidden under layers of flab.I started focusing on my abs before surgery, because I had heard that strong abs would lead to an easier recovery from the incisions. I adjusted my workout a few months ago to include exercises beyond the standard crunch, which gets boring day in and day out.

At first, I incorporated a big balance ball. I would do crunches from atop the ball to increase my range of motion, making the exercises more effective. Then I went to doing stabilizing exercises while balancing on it to help firm up my whole core.

Lately, my ab workouts have incorporated a Bosu balance trainer and medicine balls. A Bosu looks like someone hacked off the upper quarter of a balance ball and attached it to a platform — the end product being an inflated mound that can be used to activate the core muscles during all sorts of exercises.

One that my partner and I enjoy is playing catch with a 6-pound medicine ball while each of us stands on a Bosu. It looks likes we’re just playing a schoolyard game, but our abs, obliques and back muscles are working overtime to keep us from falling off the Bosu while we catch and throw the weighted ball.

Medicine balls also come in handy to intensify the standard crunch. But be forewarned — using medicine balls also requires paying more attention while exercising, as I learned this week.My partner and I favor a particular exercise where I lie on the ground while she stands across from me. I try to keep my shoulders raised as she throws a medicine ball at my face. The goal is for me to catch the ball and crunch upward while throwing it back at her. The hope is that my shoulders never touch the ground. The body’s instinctive tensing as the ball rushes toward my face keeps my muscles engaged the whole time. I was feeling so good at my ability to complete this exercise that I suggested we go from using a 4-pound ball to using an 8-pound ball.
However, I misjudged the amount of effort it would take to actually catch an 8-pound ball flying at me. On the first try, the ball went through my hands and crashed into my nose, leaving me to see nothing but stars for a solid minute.

My partner and I were reduced to hysterical laughing once I realized there was no blood and my nose was still as unbroken and adorable as always. I did have to explain the mysterious red line across my nose to numerous people throughout the day, but it was a great workout and one I can’t wait to do again.

I wouldn’t have laughed off such an incident before. A handful of people saw my display of klutziness and ribbed my partner for abusing me. It was all in good humor, and I consider the fact that so many of us got a good laugh out of the incident to make it worthwhile. It’s a fun story to tell.

The old Tonya would have had trouble seeing the humor in the situation. I would have been too embarrassed to think it was funny, and I might have not returned to the gym because of it.I’m glad I’m a different person now. I enjoy life more — both the good and the bad — than ever before, and I think I’m a better person because of it.

The honeymoon is over

Originally published Dec. 10, 2005, in Our Town for the Tracy Press.

Nobody ever said this trip was going to be easy, but that doesn’t mean I can’t whine about it.

Complications? Nope, not a one. Regrets? Not at all.

So what is my problem? In a nutshell, it’s that I’ve started to face the same challenges I’ve had every time I’ve tried to lose weight. The issues I’ve had with dieting before have reared their ugly heads, and I’m not happy about it.

I’ve mentioned in recent columns the phenomenon of old habits creeping up. I am as honest in this column as I can be in a family newspaper. I stay honest because I want people to understand that losing weight isn’t easy regardless of the method used. I never thought this would be a quick fix, and I want to make sure readers understand that.I

compare what I’m going through to running into an old flame. You know where the person lives and where the person works and have done a decent job of avoiding him. But one day, you’re strolling down the produce aisle, and your carts collide. Face-to-face, the past hits you like a ton of bricks.The meeting is awkward, and later at home, you find yourself analyzing the relationship all over again. What went wrong? Are you really over him? The questions grow more frustrating, the answers more confusing.

Realizing food issues have re-emerged is no different. Over the last few weeks, I’ve done a variety of things. I’ve had nightmares about gaining all my weight back overnight. I’ve berated myself for dropping my guard. I’ve tallied up every “bad” choice I’ve made. And last but not least, I’ve hit the gym with a vengeance to counteract the effects of those choices.

I’ve haven’t fallen as far off the wagon as it may sound. It’s not like you’ll find me at Cold Stone Creamery ordering a large-size Creation. I haven’t had ice cream since I dumped on sugar-free Breyers three weeks after surgery. I’m not frequenting fast-food chains. In fact, I passed up the chance for Jack in the Box while writing this column (though the deep-fried tacos did sound good). My slip-ups are subtle. I might absentmindedly grab a caramel-filled Hershey’s Kiss from the candy dish on my way to the women’s restroom at work. While baking up a small batch of cookies for my husband, I’ll toss one into my mouth without thinking. Once I’ve swallowed, I’ll realize what I’ve done, but it’s too late.

I’m not an idiot. I see the trend in my behavior. I’ve been on autopilot for the last few weeks, and that’s always been my weakness. Sure, my eating isn’t anywhere close to what it was before surgery. It’s not like I’m eating half a pizza without realizing it. But even if I eat only a slice now, isn’t that just as bad? I’m still sabotaging myself.

Before I had surgery, I told my doctor I often overate on autopilot. She explained to me that it was a survival mechanism. At the time, she told me not to worry about what I ate or why I ate but to focus on how I felt when I caught myself zoning out. She said figuring out what prompted my survival instinct to kick in was the key to snapping myself out of it. She also said that it was something I would struggle with for the rest of my life because my brain was hardwired to react that way.

I hate that she was right.The honeymoon is over. I have lost 150 pounds, and I feel great but life is not perfect. I never thought it would be. But I’d be lying if I said I haven’t enjoyed the half a year I spent not battling compulsive eating. I

t took me almost four months to experience hunger pangs and four more to even consider eating between meals. But I knew that was all temporary. Every class I’ve sat in and every post-op I’ve talked to has warned me about that.I credit that education and knowledge for arming me with the self-awareness that I share now. That information has also given me the keys to getting myself back in check. I need to take advantage of the awesome support system that surrounds me. I need to start eating on a schedule again, writing down everything that I put in my mouth and cleaning out all the junk food in the house that I thought I could avoid.In a sense, I’m lucky. For the first time ever, I’ve recognized my self-sabotaging instincts before regaining mass amounts of weight. I see what I’m doing while I still have the power to stop it. I chose this surgery because I knew it was the only way I could force myself to confront my eating demons. Now that it’s time to do that, I’m going to make good on my promise to myself.

Ready for a marathon — in stages

Originally published Dec. 3, 2005, in Our Town for the Tracy Press.

I’ve never been much of a runner. In fact, when somebody talks to me about jogging, my stock answer is always that I only run when being chased — and even then, I’d rather find a hiding place.But my aversion to running doesn’t stop me from feeling inspired when I read stories of marathon runners. I dream of having the level of commitment necessary to train for such a long-distance endeavor. Sometimes I even research races to enter. Eventually, reality sets in, and I remind myself of my running policy. But the idea is always in the back of my mind.

I never would have guessed that I would find the answer to my conundrum in my own backyard. But the city of Tracy has come up with an activity that will help me fulfill my interest in marathons without having to undergo intensive training or even actually run. The city’s Winter Activity Guide, which was mailed to local homes over the weekend, advertises the first-ever communitywide progressive marathon. Billing it as the answer for those who would love to participate in marathons but don’t have the time — or energy — to run the race all at once, My Own Marathon allows participants to cover the distance gradually.

How it works is that participants have from Jan. 1 to April 28 to log 26.2 miles of walking, running or a combination of the two. Participants are encouraged to attend the city’s annual Summer Activity Showcase on April 29, when everyone will gather to complete the last quarter-mile to mile of the marathon together.

The marathon fits right in with the city’s new Healthy Habits campaign, and recreation coordinator Laura Johnston said locals can expect to see more programs and classes that fit the theme.To make logging the required miles even easier, the Winter Activity Guide offers marathon mileage breakdowns for many of the classes offered. Tennis lessons and tap and ballet classes are all good for one mile each, while children who participate in the 8-week soccer program will log six miles.

“We hope that this progressive marathon can motivate Tracy residents to instill their own healthy habits,” Johnston said.

Johnston added that city staffers plan to promote My Own Marathon at the local hospital and schools as a great way for families to become active together. The marathon’s timeline of almost four months ensures that even the busiest family will be able to make time to participate.

My husband and I are looking forward to signing up Dec. 7, the first day the city accepts registration for winter programs. Entry fee is $5 per person or $10 for groups of two or more. That’s cheap, considering entrants receive a goody bag filled with a water bottle, T-shirt, sunscreen, pedometer, mileage log book and tip sheets.Besides signing up for a fun way to be active together, my husband said the pedometer is what sold him. He’s interested to find out how many miles he logs in at his construction job each day. I’m pretty excited about the pedometer myself, if only to use it as further confirmation of my newly active lifestyle.

Settling into maintenance mode

Originally published Nov. 26, 2005, in Our Town for the Tracy Press.

It’s been nine months since I had gastric-bypass surgery, and this is the first month I’ve logged less than a 10-pound loss. Though it was a jarring realization when I first stepped on the scale, I’ve been expecting this.

The rate of loss typically begins to slow sometime between six and 12 months post-op. The slowdown occurs for a couple of reasons. One is that, as a person gets closer to his or her goal, the body naturally slows down in preparation for maintenance. The other is that, after six months, a surgical weight-loss patient’s dietary restrictions are reduced and “normal” eating resumes.

“Normal” does not mean “same as pre-op.” Resuming the bad habits that led to obesity is a bad choice at best. Normal is merely a label describing how the patient should eat for the rest of his or her life. And as somebody who is going through the process, I can tell you that normal is scary.

Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve made some discoveries that disturb me. Not only can I eat more in a single sitting than before, but cravings and “head hunger” have returned. For the uninitiated, head hunger is when you think you’re hungry even though there is no possible way your belly could be empty. I find head hunger most often occurs for me within a couple hours of eating a low-protein meal or during times of stress. The head hunger attacks are different, depending upon their cause. When I’m stressed, I feel that I’m famished, even if I have just eaten. But when I haven’t had enough protein, I just feel peckish. It’s as if I go all day long without ever being satisfied by what I eat. I’m not necessarily hungry, just not full.I imagine these phenomena didn’t develop overnight. They’ve probably been quietly lurking beneath the surface for the past couple of months. But now that I’ve recognized them, I have to work hard against them.

This is proof to me that there is no magic pill when it comes to weight loss. Even having my digestive tract rearranged didn’t stop me from having to come to terms with my brain’s ability to sabotage my efforts. The only difference between my current struggle and my weight loss attempts in the past is that surgery enabled me to lose a substantial amount of weight before my mind could interfere. In my old life, I would have lost 20 pounds at this point and felt so far from my goal. But now, I am closer than I have ever been to a normal weight. I’ve lost 150 pounds, and my goal is 35 pounds away — so close I can almost taste it. My goal will come within the next six months, provided I don’t let myself get sidetracked.

Though I still struggle with my eating habits — primarily not going back to my old ways — I am more focused than ever. I work out harder at the gym than I have in the past. Every day that I’m on the treadmill, I’m pushing myself. Last week, I went from walking 30 minutes at a pace of 3.5 miles an hour Tuesday to 30 minutes at 3.7 on Friday. It may not seem like much of an improvement, but it’s made the difference for me from glistening after 30 minutes to being drenched in sweat. I also push myself more on the weight machines. I’m more apt to increase the weight now and then, if only for my last couple of reps.

For some reason, pushing myself so hard at the gym makes me more attuned to my eating habits as well. I’m not perfect, but I find myself paying more attention to my portion size and making better choices on days when I’ve had a tough workout. In my old life, I would have considered a hard workout reason to reward myself with a Carmelo Sensation from Barista’s. Now, I reward myself with a shot of wheatgrass juice from Jamba Juice. I figure if I just finished burning 400 calories, I’d like to keep them off — not invite them back for a visit.

Say nothing at all

Originally published Nov. 19, 2005, in Our Town for the Tracy Press.

Writing this column about my experiences with gastric-bypass surgery has made me an expert of sorts when it comes to the subject of obesity.

Every now and then I get an e-mail or a phone call from a reader wanting advice. Occasionally, the person wants my advice on how to approach someone about having gastric-bypass surgery.

The request takes different forms. Sometimes, it’s a simple, “There’s somebody I want you to meet. I think they could get a lot out of hearing your story.” Other times, it’s a more direct, “There’s someone I know whom I think would benefit from the surgery you had. What should I tell him?”My response is usually, “Nothing.”

Having struggled with my weight most of my life, I know what a personal battle it is. It’s hard enough going out into the world every day with a visible weakness, knowing what people think when they see you.

Having someone approach you with their answer to your problem is insulting at best. Apply it to a different situation and the insensitivity becomes more apparent. You wouldn’t approach a hirsute woman and tell her that laser hair removal would be the perfect solution to her unsightly beard. Nor would you tell Uncle Charles that a little lipo would take care of those love handles in a jiffy. So why would you suggest major surgery to an overweight coworker?

The answer to that is simple.

In our diet-crazed society, obesity is the one shortcoming that isn’t taboo to discuss in public. Under the guise of showing concern, we are free to tell Uncle Charles that his big belly is bad for his heart, and insurance just might cover gastric bypass. We don’t think twice about asking a coworker to join us at our next Weight Watchers meeting. We freely assume that overweight people are unhealthy and unhappy.Though that was true for me, it’s not true for everyone. I see plus-sized individuals at the gym every day who could run circles around most skinny-minnies — and they are proud to boast low blood pressure and cholesterol. And then there are people like David Letterman, who despite his slender physique, had emergency heart surgery just a few years ago.

Gastric bypass seems to me to have become the latest fad in the quest to overcome obesity. I think it’s an important tool, but it’s one that should be reserved only for those who truly want to make the lifestyle changes required. It can be a dangerous procedure that carries a laundry list of possible complications. It’s not a decision to be taken lightly or one that should be thrust upon someone else. It’s very personal, and I think those who are most successful after surgery are the ones who came to the decision on their own — without prodding from well-meaning friends or relatives.

Having said that, I would be remiss not to mention the other side of the coin.

Local life coach Monika Villasenor, who had gastric bypass about five years ago, believes that it’s OK to address destructive behavior in those close to us, provided it’s being done for the right reasons.

“Giving unwanted feedback to someone usually is not well-received,” she said to me during a recent chat.

Besides, Monika adds, it’s lot easier to dissect somebody else’s life than it is to face one’s own reality.S

he says it’s important to be clear before you approach someone that your intent comes from love and true concern as opposed to being a distraction from the pain that may exist in your own life.

“Is it serving you or serving them? There is a very fine line,” she said.

Old habits die hard

Originally published Nov. 12, 2005, in Our Town for the Tracy Press.

Whenever I think my old life is behind me, something comes up to remind me that I’m still at the very beginning stages of an amazing life change. Sometimes I worry that no matter how hard I work, I’ll never overcome the habits that led to my morbid obesity. I know Rome wasn’t built in a day and all, but it would be nice to just rest on my laurels every now and then.

Stress is my downfall
Before having bariatric surgery in February, my biggest issue was stress. Actually, stress wasn’t the issue so much as my reaction to it. In times of stress or heavy burden, the first thing to go for me would be diligence in taking care of myself.

Exercise has always been the first thing to go. I would skip workouts, thinking that the time I generally spend in the gym would be better spent on commitments at work or home. But it was rarely the case that it would be enough. Sooner or later, I’d find myself skipping meals or grabbing a 99-cent heart attack on the run, all the while telling myself there was no time to fuel my body properly. After a couple weeks of that behavior — along with not sleeping enough — my energy would be zapped and I’d start frequenting cafés for blended triple-shot espresso drinks. Between the sugar and the caffeine, I’d be jolted into semiconsciousness for at least half a day. I’ve known this type of behavior is self-defeating for some time, but I could never figure out how to curb it. I just hoped that having my digestive system rerouted would make such behavior impossible. Boy was I wrong.

Still a struggle
It’s been almost eight months since my surgery, and for the most part, I’ve stayed on the narrow path. I skipped the gym for the better part of a month or so, but that was it. My tender tummy (or pouch, which is what it really is now) wouldn’t allow me to scarf anything, much less gulp a caffeinated drink or eat a Big Mac. Besides that, I didn’t suffer from head hunger yet and I had no trouble sticking with only eating three meals a day. Sometimes, it was even a struggle to eat more than two in a day. But over the last month, I’ve noticed the capacity of my pouch has increased. This is nothing to be worried about. It’s common for the tissue to relax around this time and start accommodating more food.T hat’s not a problem, so long as I stay on program and use that extra room to fit in more healthy protein, vegetables and some fruit. The problem is that staying on program is really hard for me when I’m frazzled.

Mindless eating
At first I noticed my hands reaching for crackers when I was confronted with problems at work. If I didn’t stop myself fast enough, I’d know the error of my ways within an hour when a killer stomachache would set in. The too-full feeling is miserable after gastric-bypass surgery. There is abdominal cramping, accompanied by the feeling of having a stitch in your side as well as chest pain. The worst part of it all is that nothing can be done to alleviate the problem; you just have to wait it out.

Every time this would happen, I would chastise myself and vow to be more mindful.

Of course, if I could be mindful all the time, this wouldn’t be a problem. Now, I’m aware that this problem of mine still exists, but I still have no solution. At least I don’t skip workouts as much anymore. I have my workout partner to thank for that. She is ever diligent about picking me up four days a week, and she doesn’t let me slack off one bit at the gym.

As for my eating habits, they are a work in progress. I used to keep on-program foods at the office in case I was too buried with work to leave for lunch, but then I found myself mindlessly munching on those items between meals. I know from experience there is such thing as too much of something good. But now that my office is devoid of snackables, I run the risk of skipping meals, which is bad for me on many levels.

Lack of protein still makes me weak, and my blood sugar is prone to getting too low. Though I don’t have the answers to this problem, I’m working on it. I know there’s a solution, and it’s important to me to find it. I don’t want to wake up five years from now at the same weight I was eight months ago. That would make having surgery irrelevant, and I worked too hard for that.

Soaring to new heights

Originally published Nov. 5, 2005, in Our Town for the Tracy Press.

I’ve never been a fan of the outdoors. My fair skin burns easily in the sun, and watching “Jaws” one too many times as a young child has ensured that I never feel entirely safe in water that’s not contained in a bathtub.But before I had gastric-bypass surgery in February, I realized that liking the outdoors was never really an option for me. The only hiking I ever did was at science camp in the sixth grade. As the biggest kid in the class, I spent so much time trying to keep up, I never got the chance to really appreciate the sights. That experience shaped my feelings toward the outdoorsfrom then on.

As my surgery neared, my husband and I started compiling a list of things we thought weight loss would help me accomplish. It included places we wanted to go that I didn’t feel comfortable visiting when I was more than 300 pounds. One of the big goals I had was to go hiking. My husband enjoys camping, fishing, water skiing, snow skiing and just being out in the fresh air.He feels a sense of renewal when communing with nature. It became important to me to at least try to share in his love once I was healthy enough to do so.

First hike leads to future plans
Our original plan was to go to Mount Diablo during the summer, but I still had a lot of trouble tolerating the heat, so we never went. In September, my husband and I joined his family on a picnic in Knights Ferry. It was a warm day, but I found the area to be pretty. We went back last weekend and enjoyed a short hike along the Stanislaus River.

Nestled between Oakdale and Sonora, Knights Ferry seems to stay fairly cool. We started with a walk from thepicnic grounds across the 365-foot-long covered bridge — reportedly the longest of its kind — and headed away from the town’s ruins toward the hills. Our hike took us from golden foothills to the rocky riverbank. I clambered up rocks that my husband, at 6-foot-4, easily leapt upon. I slipped a time or two, sliding on my backside, but all in all, it was loads of fun. I got dirty and sweaty but enjoyed the time with my husband — even when the only sound was that of my panting.

After the hike, we went back to the picnic grounds and talked about how much fun we had. We both agreed that our sneakers were too slippery and that we’d need actual hiking boots before trying another jaunt. At my husband’s urging, we left the grounds to check out a store he saw along the way in Oakdale that specializes in hiking boots. About $80 later, we left the store with a pair of boots for each of us and plans to tackle Mount Diablo this weekend.I n Danville, the park is expecting cool weather this weekend and we hope to take advantage of it to explore Rock City and Fossil Ridge. Maybe this time I’ll remember to take a camera so I can bring back proof of our trip.

Trying to heal the inner child

Originally published Oct. 29, 2005, in Our Town for the Tracy Press.

It’s official. I now weigh less than I did when I was 10 years old. Click for stats.The first day that I weighed in below 199 pounds, I was in shock. After a week, I was excited.But once the excitement wore off, I discovered a new emotion: anger.
My husband would say that my anger is nothing new. He thinks I’ve been angry quite awhile. It has something to do with no longer being able to squelch my feelings with food. But this new anger is different. It’s immature and unreasonable.

Angry little kid
Every time I look in the mirror, I become a mad 10-year-old. I’m angry with adults in my life who looked at me and didn’t see anything wrong. I’m angry with my pediatrician for not telling my mother that having such an obese child was a problem. My bariatric doctors warned me before I had this surgery that as the weight dropped, emotional issues would surface.

Though I worked hard to prepare for what might arise, this is one issue that I never saw coming. I thought I had made peace with the events of my childhood. The adult in me says that my mom did the best she could with the knowledge she had at the time. My doctor was no miracle worker. When he looked at me, he probably saw a kid with the deck stacked against her. He knew there was a family history of obesity, and he probably knew that lecturing my mother wouldn’t do any good. I presume he gave the best advice he could in such circumstances. I remember him telling my mom that it wasn’t such a bad thing, but it might be a good idea to have me try not to gain any more weight. I was in the fifth grade then, but I remember it all clearly. I also remember crying myself to sleep after the first day of eighth grade when I weighed in at 203. I had maintained my weight for three years, but somehow over the summer, it crept up on me. That’s when I began dieting in earnest.

As an adult, I think I should probably thank that doctor for saving me from the yo-yo diet routine for three years. After all, if he had done what I wish he had — required my mom to help me lose weight — it probably would only have served to start me on that path so much sooner. That should count for something. But the sullen 10-year-old rants. All she can remember are the taunts and teasing that made walking to and from school seem unbearable. She remembers having to wear ill-fitting clothing because manufacturers at the time weren’t in the business of creating stylish outfits for plus-sized children.

Going back in time
I’d love to go back in time and have a talk with the 10-year-old me. I’d tell her that she might feel powerless, but as an adult, she’d be in control of her own destiny. I’d tell her about the power of making good choices. I’d talk to that girl’s mom and tell her how her daughter’s size was a prison, and that she should do something about it. I’d encourage her to take daily walks with her daughter and develop an active lifestyle. I’d visit the doctor and tell him his complacent attitude wasn’t helping anyone. I’d encourage him to be more proactive when dealing with overweight patients and their parents.

Of course, going back in time is impossible. All I can do is acknowledge that it’s normal for me feel this way. When the angry 10-year-old makes an appearance, I try my best to listen to her. Maybe through this process, the little girl inside of me will heal her heart.

Keeping an eye on the goal

Originally published Oct. 8, 2005, in Our Town for the Tracy Press.

When I first decided to have gastric-bypass surgery, I set a modest goal for myself. I decided that I wanted to weigh 200 pounds after one year.I picked that goal because it’s the average of what I weighed from the age of 10 to 18. I figured if I could maintain that weight for eight years before, it would be realistic goal to maintain for the rest of my life.The only problem is that when I weighed 335 pounds, it never occurred to me I could be in the ballpark of 200 pounds seven months after surgery. And when that happened, I realized it was time to revisit my goal weight.
Obviously, my body is capable of being thinner, and I have 12 months left of the “honeymoon” period to lose more weight. All gastric-bypass patients have an 18- month honeymoon period to lose as much excess weight as possible before their bodies get wise and figure out a way to consume more food and absorb more nutrients from the food ingested.My new goal weight needs to be low enough that it accounts for regaining 10 or 20 pounds (common after two years) without significantly hurting my health. After much thought, I’ve settled on a goal weight of 160 pounds.At 5-foot, 3-inches tall, weighing 160 pounds puts my body mass index at 26.9, still considered overweight. A normal BMI is between 18.5 and 24.95. However, it’ll be the closest to normal I’ve ever been.This goal may end up being temporary. I’m about 40 pounds away from my goal at the moment. Twenty pounds from now, I plan to revisit this goal. I may decide that I want to try for a more normal weight. If I do, then I’ll change my goal again at that time.One thing I’ve learned since surgery is the importance of being flexible with my goals and expectations because one never knows what will occur.As I often say, every day brings a new challenge and a new reward. I’m just enjoying the journey for what it’s worth.