Why so Sad?

 Today, I had my three month follow up appointment with the nurse practitioner.  I walked to the back where I stood on the scale at my first visit seven months ago.  I have less anxiety when approaching the machine than I did three months ago, or even last week.  I took off as much as I could; my purse and my sandals (which weigh one pound each).  I stepped up.  267…on the doctor’s scale, which everyone knows is at least five pounds over the home scale - do they do that on purpose?  The nurse celebrated my accomplishment!  “You are down 54 pounds from when you started this process,” she shared and offered a high five.  

I was beaming with pride when the nurse practitioner walked in.  She also commented on how well I am doing, although she mentioned that I am two pounds under the average loss over three months.  I still have one week to make that up, but I am doing quite well.  Let me pause for a second to explain that I am not used to being average.  I do extra.  I work extra hard, I produce extra good stuff, I go beyond the expectations of the average person.  Average was hard to swallow.

Then, she pulled out a graph that was created with my pre-surgical information, “along with some other demographics,” and it shows the projected weight loss over one year post surgery.  The graph showed a line that dropped drastically and then evened out.  She explained that over the next six months, I would lose another 63 pounds for a total of 117 in one year.

I felt so disappointed.  Only 117 pounds?  What’s this I’ve read about women losing 150-175 pounds?  I want to be one of those!  After all, this blog is called “Breaking Up with HALF of Me,” not “Breaking up with some of me” ( I tried to do the math and come up with some percentage or fraction, but ya’ll know how I am with math).  I won’t even be a candidate to offer my husband one of my kidneys at that BMI.

I was confused about my first emotion.  Disappointed.  I’ve never lost 100 pounds in my life and now, losing it over one year is not good enough?  What the hell is that all about?!  Am I getting addicted to losing weight?  Do I think I can lose and lose and never stop losing?  Maybe.  Because I have never seen results from  my efforts (except for the time I starved myself on the HCG diet.  Great weight loss until I saw a piece of cake).

I say that I want my body to decide where it wants to land to be healthy.  In reality, I want to randomly pick a number based on NOTHING and make that my goal and then feel bad about myself when someone tells me that I may not meet that goal, but will reach a more healthy number for my body.  

I used to do whatever I wanted.  I wanted to travel, so I did it.  I’ve been to the Philippines, Hawaii, Mexico x2, Taiwan, Italy
x2, Uganda, Ghana and Hong Kong.  I wanted to get a good education.  I did it.  I earned one bachelor's degree, two master’s degrees and was accepted to four PhD programs.  If I wanted to work out, I did it.  I wanted to go on vacation alone, so I did it.  Now, I am no longer in control - of anything it seems.  Of course, that’s not true, but that’s how I feel at this pity party.  I want to lose 160 pounds and I don’t want anyone telling me that I can’t; even my own body.

My bestie, Jazmin, keeps reminding me to “Let that sink in.”  She will say “YOU LOST 54 POUNDS!  Let that sink in.”  Or “You have gone down three sizes in three months - don’t sleep on that shit.  Feel it!”  Am I rewarding my hard work with expectations of more hard work?  That’s a normal routine for  many women that I know.  It’s like saying “Good job!  That was great, now do it again and better and faster - GO!”  I’ve lost five 10 pound bags of potatoes.  I may have to step into Food Lion and pick up a few bags just to really feel that accomplishment.  I will then put them back down because potatoes are nowhere on this meal plan.