I know you’re probably thinking I’m talking about my age. I turned 52 this year. I’m talking about pounds lost, baby, yeah! As I type this, I am at 48 pounds lost since mid July when I had gastric sleeve surgery. Another milestone is that I broke into the 150s on my weight. I still have a ways to go since I am only 5’1”…used to be 5’2”, but maybe all that weight weighing down on my legs shrunk me. At any rate, I am making great progress that is sustainable in order to reach my goal of 44 more pounds. I’m just over halfway there!
I track my eating on an app called Lose It! (No, they aren’t paying me to plug their tracker, but I have found it to be the best one for me to use.) If you want to know how I’m feeling, I’ll tell you I feel NORMAL. For the first time in several years, I feel like I am actually in my own body, not a padded suit with no ventilation. Remember little brother Randy on A Christmas Story? That day his mom was preparing him for school by putting him in a snowsuit and wrapping a 12 foot scarf around his neck and head, and she had to unwrap his mouth so she could hear him say, “I can’t put down my arms!” That’s how I felt before the surgery.
As I said before, when I look in the mirror, I again recognize the person looking back at me. I am comfortable in my own skin again and even though it is a lot more wrinkled than it used to be, I am not concerned or discouraged. If you have spent a significant amount of years on this earth, you would understand when I say that often, when you “fix” one thing and turn its volume down, it makes way for another issue to be the squeaky wheel. Maybe I will talk about what that is for me another time…maybe not. For now, I will try to take the “W” and do a victory lap around my office.
I have been an average weight most of my life. It has only been in recent years where I have truly struggled. Chalk it up to the end of military PT tests, the basic stresses of life, and the utter deliciousness of cheesecake and key lime pie. I have made superficial efforts to lose weight, all the while sizing up and up and up on my clothing. I am a mere 5 foot 1 (used to be 5 foot 2, but time has compressed me) and the day I saw over 200 on the scale, I knew we had achieved maximum capacity. I knew that if I didn’t do something significant and right away, I wasn’t going to live long enough to be a burden to my grandchildren like I wanted to.
In January of this year, I had to go get a colonoscopy. Hooray for being over 50! They asked me if I wanted to get scheduled to get a liver scan. I knew that wouldn’t be worse than a colonoscopy so I agreed. The scan indicated that my liver was just about cirrhotic. I had some scaring and a fatty liver. When I discussed the findings with the doctor, he told me that he could refer me to see a bariatric doctor to talk about surgical options for weight loss since it was clear that the condition of my liver (and high blood pressure and inflammation and sleep apnea) was likely a result of my weight.
When I called the bariatric provider’s office, they asked how tall I was and how much I weighed and if I had certain health issues. They asked if I was looking to get the GLP-1 shots or surgery. I had thought a great deal about it and knew that the only thing that would truly work for me would be a permanent physical constraint that would keep me from overeating, so I told them I was looking at getting surgery. Then the strangest thing happened. I was told that I qualify based on the number of weight related health issues I had but that I could NOT lose ANY weight before I would have the surgery to shrink my stomach. You see, my BMI wasn’t high enough to qualify me BUT with the three weight related health issues I had, I could be a slightly lower BMI to qualify. However, I was right there at the low threshold of qualification. I told them, “NO problem!”
In February, I began doing telehealth appointments with a nutritionist once a month for four months so my insurance would pay their share of the procedure. I learned everything about how to eat after the surgery from deciphering food labels to timing and measuring my meals. Then I finally got scheduled for a gastric sleeve surgery mid July. In case you didn’t know, the surgery reduces your stomach to the size of about a 4 inch section of a thin garden hose. I don’t know how much my stomach could hold before, but now it can hold about 4-5 ounces. This means I really can’t eat AND drink water in one sitting. I learned it takes about 5 minutes for water to clear out of your stomach and about 30 minutes for food to clear out and make room for water or whatever you’re drinking.
I have sworn off drinking anything carbonated, anything caffeinated, and eating regular bread. Cottage cheese has become a staple in my diet, and my eyes are always bigger than my stomach. I got what I wanted. I am physically unable to overindulge. On my birthday last month, we went to Olive Garden…no bread sticks and only a few bites of salad, a few spoonfuls of soup, and about a third of my chicken mhargerita. That meal ended up being three meals for me. However, I did get a strawberry creme cake. I thought I would have a bite and let the kids have the rest. I ended up eating about half of it and got so sick. Eating has become more of a “have to” and less of a “want to”. I’m not upset about it, but suffice it to say that my relationship with food has changed.
I have a large bag of clothes in my closet that is 1-2 sizes smaller than what I was wearing at over 200 pounds. I’m pretty sure they would fit now that I have lost over 40 pounds, but I am afraid to open it and try anything on. I am afraid of trying something on and it still be too small, making me feel like I was failing at this weight loss thing. I still haven’t opened the bag. I’m going to wait 5 more pounds before I do.
I have to say that immediately after the surgery, my inflammation was GONE! I had ankles and wrists again! I almost had one chin! My wedding ring fit more comfortably. I think I lost 12 pounds in the first two weeks, and some of that just had to be water weight. I only threw up I think three or four times over the first month. I haven’t since then. We have a two Westie dogs, and the older one, Tillie has a weak stomach. Every time she drinks water too fast, she is yacking it up. Me and Tillie…I feel ya, girl.
Yesterday, I looked in the mirror, and I recognized the woman looking back at me. “There you are!”, I exclaimed. I haven’t seen that lady in a long time. She is a lot older than I remember her being, but she looks happy. She looks like she has the peace of God that passes all understanding. She looks comfortable in her own skin. She isn’t trying to hide behind a veil of make-up or academic achievement. I missed her. She’s got a ways to go, but she is making it to the finish line, one pound at a time.
If you’ve done the colors personality test, you know what it means when I say I am a Green with a small amount of Gold in the background. Here are the basic breakdowns on the colors:
A logically driven individual can still be kind. In fact, it is even more essential that a logically driven leader extend kindness to others. It may seem a bit out of our comfort zones to behave in such a way, but the flex is worth it.
To those whom I have not extended kindness and understanding (numerous, I’m sure) in your time of need, please accept my humble apology. I do sincerely care, in spite of my sometimes calloused exterior. Most of the time, it’s because I don’t know what to say or do. Most of the time I fall short of any ability to put myself in someone else’s shoes. I must say that I do genuinely care about everyone I come in contact with, both at work and in my personal life.
I do possess outrageous patience when conversing with others who are not knowledgeable of the subject of the discussion. (I would say “who are ignorant”, but although that is a fitting description, I know it may offend the ignorant.) I actually enjoy assisting others who need guidance with something I am experienced with. Last week, I was thanked by two providers at two different meetings for my assistance and understanding. Their thanks was a kindness extended to me that encouraged me to continue to strive to help as much as possible. I think about the line in Jerry McGuire where he said, “Help me help you!” This is the kind of leadership that creates synergy. When you have synergy in a team, successful plays are made!
Leading with kindness helps smooth out the pits in the road moving forward. It makes an otherwise distant leader approachable. It proves that even if you are personally driven by things other than emotion, you can still create a nurturing and positive work environment for those you lead. You are still allowed to recharge in solitude; you are still permitted to analyze situations and make decisions based on facts. In fact, you will experience greater success when you get buy-in from your teammates by communicating your stellar plans to them through the filter of kindness.
Yes, that’s me. I’m an only child. I grew up without siblings. I also grew up in a town a great distance away from my cousins, a few of whom I have still never met in person. It was a solitary existence. However, it was not a lonely existence. I used to create an entire world in that wonderful thing called my “imagination”. For kids today, the notion of using one’s imagination to ward off boredom is a virtual solitary confinement sentencing…worse than eating live snails…proof of depravity. I’ve spent the past several years trying to dig deep to find some sympathy for today’s kiddos, and I just can’t bring myself to shed even one tear for their plight.
You’re never too old to learn something new…and in my case, learn it again because I’m sure I knew it at some point and forgot it. So, I recently learned about a condition called “Only Child Syndrome”. About a century ago, some psychologists concluded that most children who grow up without siblings share some common traits. Behold, the lovely list:
—Lonely
—Spoiled
—High sense of independence
—Poor social skills
—High achievers
—Highly sensitive to criticism
At first glance, I immediately wanted to dismiss this list as psycho-dribble, but my sense of self convinced me there is a large element of truth in this list. Allow me to reflect on my own experience growing up as an only child and now as a parent of multiple offspring in a comparison/contrast.
Lonely—I can say with certainty that I enjoyed spending time alone, just me and my imagination. In the almost 50 years of my life, if I were to squish all of my lonely time together, it would probably amount to about a week.
Spoiled—Not really. I mean, I was the only kid in the house, so I was the only one getting Christmas presents, but I would not classify that as being spoiled. We were too poor for me to be spoiled. I didn’t own a Sit N Spin until I was an adult, and I never owned a Cabbage Patch doll. When I was a teenager, money wasn’t quite as tight, but I wasn’t driving a new car and didn’t have a television or a stereo in my room. I don’t know of another definition of spoiled besides an accumulation of material things, so I wouldn’t have classified myself as spoiled.
High sense of independence—This one rings very true. It has only been recently that I have limited myself physically to the point where I wait for someone to assist me with a big job I shouldn’t be doing alone. When I lived in Turkey, I wanted to move all of my office furniture around, and I was sitting on the floor, pushing furniture with my feet and my back against the wall for leverage. I did a lot of online schooling for my bachelors and masters degrees, and I loathed “group projects”. When my grade depends on the input of other people, it is infuriating. On the flip side, however, I do enjoy spending time with friends and family. I like playing volleyball.
Poor social skills—Probably accurate. I’m not extremely socially awkward…just a little. I don’t make it a habit to approach strangers and talk to them or plan parties or dote over babies. I’ve been accused of being “unapproachable” by some of my kids’ friends. I call it “deep in thought”.
High achievers—Speaking only for myself, imposing of the impossible standard of perfection on myself keeps me driven (however misguided this may be) to always have to be getting another degree, another certification, another title. I freely admit to suffering from “imposter syndrome”. I always feel like I am not doing enough to deserve my pay (undervaluing my contributions). All the years I devoted to earning my degrees still don’t feel like I really earned them. Of course, I know I did earn them.
Highly sensitive to criticism—Sometimes I can be sensitive to criticism, but my sensitivity is directly proportional to how egotistical the source of the criticism is. In times like those, my therapist told me to just imagine them handing me wads of cash to listen to them while I’m on the clock. (Teehee)
I grew up an only child, but now I am a mom of three. I have, on occasion, had to ask my husband (who grew up with many siblings and cousins around), “is this normal?” because I didn’t grow up with boys in the house. Usually, the answer is “yes”, and I retreat to a room away from the chaos to enjoy my solitude.
