18 months out!

I had my 18-month appointments last week, and everything is going well. It was a little surreal. My bloodwork numbers were awesome. I still haven't gotten below 200 pounds yet, which is somewhat frustrating; the scale has reflected every number and fraction between 205 and 200.9 in the last month. My nutritionist said, "It's only a number, remember how far you've come. Think about your progress." The surgeon had the same types of things to say, and it was a little surreal, hearing these kinds of phrases from several medical professionals all in the space of one day: "You're healthy." "You look good." "You're doing everything right." I had to keep shaking my head to remind myself it was real. (Where were these people when I weighed 150 twenty-five years ago and the doctors were all up in my grill? When I was torturing myself and being tortured about my weight all through my teen years? I can't even think about it very long or I go bonkers.)

I'm taking the supplements, I'm swimming, and I'm looking forward to getting plastic surgery. (not getting it per se, but the final result) I will probably try and get it when my temp job ends, working around any other job I may get and also my school schedule. It's amazing to feel this good and love silly things like buying clothes on Ebay. A lot of women my age could care less about that stuff and it does seem frivolous when you're 42, but you know what? I don't have kids so I'm not depriving anyone else, and I never got to feel young and pretty, whether I was or not. I didn't get to enjoy being young, period. (Frankly, being 'young' was hell for me.) I'm not going to apologize for feeling younger and better than I've ever felt, or wanting to do 'young' things at midlife, cause I think it's amazing! It's this amazing GIFT that I've been given, but also one I feel that I've earned. I have worked for it and will have to continue to work for it, and it is so very worth it.

Swimming

I have discovered something about myself: when YMCA dues are auto-deducted from my checking account, I am much more driven to go to the pool regularly. I'm paying either way, right? Today I felt a little queasy and was really close to bagging it, and then I thought: "Stop it, it's an excuse. If you still don't feel well, you can stop swimming and leave." I have this tool (the surgery), which I am damn lucky to have; I have a limited window of time for initial weight loss following it; and the best part of all--when I swim, I feel amazing.

I'm feeling this determination that shocks even me, but I'm not sure why; I've always known how to work and been tenacious. (There is a reason I adore bulldogs!) The fact is, I'm there to do a job and it gets done: I swim for fifty minutes. Sometimes there is a kids' swim team or a family with masks and fins who can barely dog paddle or someone who can do impressive flip turns even though they appear to be in their fifties. Sometimes it's early in the morning and I crash Mr. Salted's car into the cement post next to the gas pump before I even get to the pool (yes, this really happened two weeks ago). I just share the lane and keep going. I look at the clock a lot. Fifty minutes. It's a long time. I don't start getting tired until about forty minutes.

Every time I go, it gets easier to move, to breathe. As I glide through the water, loose skin doesn't matter, fat rolls don't matter, middle age doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that I've never been to Europe, that I'll never be a rock star or a grandmother, that I'm still trying to pay off my student loans at almost 42 years old. No matter how I look in my bathing suit out of the pool, in it I feel weightless and graceful.

To date, I have always been the largest person there. I'm not thrilled about the way I look, but I accept it. I know I look the best I can at this point in time, and I look better than I have in many years, mostly because I'm happier. I care much more about how I feel.

In the locker room today, I felt like I could see the struggles of every woman there. I was the heaviest, but some were older, some looked exhausted or tentative, and one beautiful young lady was weighing herself wearing only a towel and glaring at the number on the scale like it was her worst enemy. I thought: I have been every one of you and felt full again, this time with compassion. We all have our obstacles and our journeys. The only person I have never been is the friendly elderly woman who loves to swim and is smiling simply because she woke up today, but becoming her is another goal I can set for the future.