Victories

 

3.14

It’s pie day.  I was wondering if I could make some kind of sugar free yummy treat, but with the stomach the size of a grape, I don’t have much space to waste.  Today, I am three weeks post op.  I am feeling better every day and I still nap every day.  I am learning to listen to my body…sensing a theme here?  Yes, when I am eating too much or too fast, my stomach sends me threats.  “Put it down!  Don’t you dare.  You didn’t even chew that 20 times!”  I fear the results if I don’t listen, so, I listen.  It is supposed to take me 30 minutes to eat a meal that I would usually finish in five minutes.  Then, I have to debate with my brain about if I am hungry or if I just like the taste, or if I remember that this was one of my favorites.  Have you heard of head hunger?  I am recognizing that a lot.  It’s weird to sit down at the table with my family because it’s dinner time, and try to slow them down so that I’’m not sitting alone for 25 minutes.  

Well, so far, I have lost 30 pounds from when I began this journey.  According to the chart that I reference, a person who was 300-400 pounds before surgery can expect to lose 10-30 pounds in the first 10 days.  There you have it.  I am enjoying a few NSV (non-scale victories) as well.  If you’ve ever tried to lose weight, you will relate to this.  The first place I lose is my fingers.  MY FINGERS!  I have gone down a size and half in my fingers.  This means that my wedding ring fits on my right hand now.  Yay, that’s progress!  Another NSV is that I can descend the stairs without stopping to gather my other foot on each step before proceeding to the next, like a two-step dance.  I can just bound down the stairs, one at a time (bound is being used loosely.  It’s more like descend).  Also, I have had a pair of jeans in my dresser for a couple years.  I don’t know that I was ever able to fit into them.  Perhaps I bought them along with a pair that did fit, I don’t know.  But, they fit!  I pulled them up, for the first time, buttoned and zipped them without a struggle.  I even sat down in them, comfortably!  One goal that I have is to purchase a virtual reality workout system once I have lost 50 pounds.  I’ll let you know when I get it!  I might swap that out for a countertop composter, hmmmm we shall see.  

I keep trying to avoid weighing myself daily, but every morning, I pull out the scale and step up.  Before the numbers register, I say to myself “You will celebrate whatever number appears because you are doing it and it is working!”   I find it difficult to predict what size I will wear in two or four or six months.  I am planning some trips this spring and summer and I want to catch some of the pre-season sales.  I looked at a dress/shirt not sure which it was, and wasn’t sure if I will wear a size medium this summer or next or never.  I like my clothes, but soon they won’t fit.  I am eyeing some television stars and thinking, “hmmm, I could rock that!  Yeah, my figure will probably look like hers so…”  In reality, I have no idea.

There’s a temptation, now that I am at the soft-food stage (soft meats, mashed cauliflower, soft cheeses, you know, soft food) to rely on protein shakes for fear that if I move from the liquid stage, I will gain those 30 pounds back.  I think this is a common concern for many and might be the case for the rest of my life.  I told my bestie about this fear and she suggested this is the reason I must keep writing; for myself, my future self, to be reminded of the road that was taken and the ways to stay on track.  Thanks for helping me stay on track.

We Don't Talk About Brownness

 I was thinking about how I felt growing up as the only black little girl in a school of whiteness.  Each year, there was one history lesson that forced me to cringed and sink deep into my seat.  Slavery.  You see, the only time in school that I heard anything about people who looked like me was when we talked about slavery and the Civil War.  Think about that for a moment.  A young girl, dealing with body image issues, feeling she fits in, kinda, and then the only part of history she can relate to is that people who look like “them” owned people who looked like her.  

There was no talk of inventors, doctors, or astronauts.  Every once in a while, I would hear about the “black guy who invented peanut butter,” but it was  not connected to the fact that he was also the man who created WRITING INK; something that is used every day to this day.  I remember blushing whenever the color brown or black was mentioned.  I assumed all eyes were on me even when someone was asking for a crayon.

I attended a small private college that considered itself ‘diverse’ thanks to the handful of us brown folks that made it that way.  I will never forget sitting in a lecture with Psychology professor Dr. Carlson when he showed the film Keep Your Eyes on the Prize.  I could not understand why sophomore year in college was the first time I was learning about this.  I had to excuse myself when tears flooded my eyes after learning about the murder of Emmitt till.  I had a deep feeling of grief and loss as I watched that portion of the film.

The weekend following that class, I visited my parents and explained how hard I was hit by the story of this young black boy who was brutilly murdered when a white woman accused him of flirting with her.  She later confessed that she had lied, but by then, the damage was overdone.  My dad said, “You know that was your uncle, right?”  I stood in the kitchen, dumbfounded, with my mouth hanging open - WHAT?!  My dad continued, “Emmitt Till was my first cousin.  His mom and my mom were sisters.  He was from Chicago and was visiting family down south for the summer.”  He continued, “Actually, I was supposed to be there with him at that time.  Just before we were supposed to leave, I was riding my bike and was hit by a car.  I was in the hospital and missed out on the summer trip.  That accident very well may have saved my life.”  I bawled. 

Elephant Skin

 I have mentioned before that all the women in my family have struggled with their weight.  I grew up in a household with five females and dad. He used to say “I was raised by five women, even our pets were female!”  Oh dad, you were the king and you know it!  One thing I did not realize until I was an adult was that we never, ever, ever talked about large animals.  I’m not exactly sure why, but we didn’t.  If I heard the word pig, hippo, or elephant, I looked to see if someone was referring to me.  One day, as an adult, I learned the beauty of elephants.  I had an internal chat with myself, “Do I like elephants because they are big?  Will others think that’s the only reason I like them?  Could it be because they are gentle, graceful, strong and remember so much?”  Why do I feel anxious when I say that I like elephants?  I realize now that much of this was in my head, but where did it come from?  The only thing I knew about these majestic creatures was that they were big, and that was enough for me to steer clear of adding them to my favorites list.  Just so ya know, I love elephants!  I remember riding one named Tombi at Potter Park zoo in 1980.  I can’t wait to come trunk to trunk with one as an adult.  It reminds me of wisdom my dear friend said his grandmother shared with him.  “Have elephant skin, but don’t let it reach your heart.”

Tombi, Potter Park Zoo, Lansing, Michigan - 1980