All apologies

Many people seem to think fat people need to apologize simply for being fat. Some of them are fat people themselves.

I like tie-dyes, batiks, and bright colors. I don't purposely wear things that make me look like a pumpkin--horizontal stripes have not been a part of my wardrobe repertoire for quite some time--but neither am I afraid of color. I do try to wear colors that are good for me, fun accessories, etc. I've often been complimented on my fashion sense as an adult, which is still a bit of a jolt for me since I was the kid with the clothes from a garage sale (before that was cool) or the ugly K-mart fall-aparts. In my real adult life, I'm a T-shirts and jeans person by nature. (I do believe in good hygiene at all times, and foundation garments in public. Makeup, however, is optional.)

So on this day a couple of years ago, I was wearing a nice, not inexpensive, batik outfit from Junonia, a button-up shirt with matching pants. It was red, more toward the wine end of the color wheel than the Santa end. The coworker--who was at least my size, if not larger--said, "You know, I could just never wear anything like that," hastening to add, "but it looks fine on YOU."

My response was immediate: "I wear whatever appeals to me, what I feel comfortable in. I don't feel like I have to apologize."

I could have been offended, and I certainly had a knee-jerk flicker of that, but ultimately her statement brought forth my compassion. I was also really proud of myself, because I knew I meant what I said, and because it showed me I had come a long way. I know what it's like to hide in the navy blue or black sack (I still do it sometimes); women of all sizes joke about their "fat pants", and most of us have *at least* one pair. But it's one thing to have "fat pants" for your own comfort; it's quite another to feel as though you have to be dressed or presented in a certain, impossibly perfect way as an apology to the world at large.

Today, I happened to be wearing a bright tie-dyed shirt. I went to the pharmacy to pick up some prescription-strength vitamin D and some sugar-free candy. I saw the pharmacist give me that look, that "you should be in a big black trenchcoat, you fat hog" look. (She was fat herself.) It's that whole, "Don't just hate the way *you* look, be sure and spread it around" thing women are so programmed and socialized to do in this country from the time we are little girls--that catty, bitchy, competitive bullshit I've never had any time or patience for. (It goes without saying there were no feelings of compassion from me today!)

Apologizing for being fat goes far beyond the clothes we choose. A lot of fat people develop great senses of humor, not only as a coping mechanism, but as a way of being accepted. I know I certainly did, and have, and sometimes still do. (I consider humor the most healthy coping mechanism I have.) Growing up, on some level, I believed that I had to be charming and funny in order to be accepted, because I wasn't pretty in the right way (and I was smart and poor with a screwed-up family whose business everyone seemed to know). This is something I still deal with. Sometimes large women seem to be everybody's buddy or everybody's sister or everybody's mother figure. There seems to be an unwritten code that fat women are just going to take what is offered (bad romantic relationships, wishy-washy friendships, etc.) because they are fat and that's all they can get. Unfortunately, a lot of fat people buy into this.

There was a time when I bought into it--I was certainly programmed by those around me and my culture to buy into it, after all--and in low moments, I still wrestle with it. A lot of my life, I wouldn't wear a dress, and I did make a great effort to hide. I put up with more than I should have from people. I felt like I had to apologize simply for breathing oxygen and not being every other human being's idea of "hot". In my late teens, I got tired of feeling that way all the time, and I worked on it for years; it didn't happen overnight. I kept my good friends close, let the flaky ones go, and I found out there are good people (even men!) that judge me for what I am and do rather than what I appear to be. I learned to say things like, "If you don't like my peaches, don't shake my tree." And mean it. It's okay for me to be a real person with moods and needs and dislikes, whether or not I'm fat.

And I have nothing to apologize for.

Sugar-free candy

Me and my sweet tooth have been investigating sugar-free candy lately, particularly chocolate. It is rather expensive; a small bag has maybe six pieces in it and costs $2-3. I think my favorite sugar-free chocolate brand thus far has been Russell Stover. They have some good coconut, caramel, nougat, and toffee varieties and some or all are carried by most drugstores, sometimes near the pharmacy and sometimes in with the regular candy. I found sugar-free Turtles at Target that weren't bad, and the Hershey brand Reese's peanut-butter cups are pretty good in sugar-free.

I think buying candy online might be cheaper, and am still going to look more into that. I have used http://www.candydirect.com/ in the past and they have a huge selection of sugar-free stuff.

You don't save that many calories avoiding sugar outright in chocolate, but if type II diabetes or pre-diabetes exists, they are a good choice. Sugar-free chocolate can have a laxative effect, so there is a built-in motivation not to overindulge!

Taking care of business

That has been the order of the day/week/foreseeable future. I finally got our taxes done and e-filed today, and we decided that I was going to try and go for a Technical Writing Certificate at UW in the fall with the return money, if I could get in, etc.. The timing would all be perfect if I am even somewhat on schedule in terms of this surgery. So I have been looking into that as well. Mr. Salted has to have a gum graft, so we spent yesterday at the periodontist.

I haven't heard from the insurance yet on the psych eval and whether or not they will cover it. It's been lovely not having any appointments of my own this week so I could just take care of things. I've been finding tons of books I wanted to read--both regarding weight and body issues and not. We really cannot afford any additional counseling for me right now and so I'm intending to read as much as I can and also check out online support groups. I know there are many.

My review of "Gaining: The Truth About Eating Disorders" by Aimee Liu

I found this book astonishingly good, the best I have ever read on eating issues. Informative, well-researched, well-written, the combination of facts and personal stories made it a far more engaging read than one would expect. Not only was every stage of life addressed, there were many insights into our culture. I may not agree with every single thing in this book, but I think anyone with eating and weight issues would find it illuminating, validating, and ultimately healing...I also think it could benefit those who are trying to support a loved one with these issues, as the style is not just dry technical jargon. I also appreciated the fact that the author is an older woman whose recovery from anorexia began decades ago, when research and treatment was in its infancy...she was able to give a historical perspective on eating disorder research, treatment, and recovery as well. I doubt there is a woman in America who could not glean something of value from this book.

Strength training and salsa workout DVD

Today I started at home with the strength training exercises. He gave me a sheet and we went over how to do them all at my last appointment. I bought an exercise ball and some two-pound weights; my exercises consisted of a dumbbell shoulder press where I push up; a two-handed dumbbell row where I get in linebacker position and lean over while rowing backward with both arms (this one was hard because I feel like I'm going to tip over); a couple of hip abduction exercises (basically leg lifts where I lean up against a counter, one with heel in, one with heel out); a standing bicep curl with the weights; and a standing leg curl, which is basically the bicep curl with the legs. He also wants me to do a ball squat with the exercise ball, but that one's really painful for the knees and you feel like you are going to lose your balance at all times, since you are leaning against the wall with most of your weight on the exercise ball and moving down the wall into a squat and back up again. I am supposed to do the strength exercises 2 or 3 times a week with 15 reps of each, 2 sets, and 30 seconds in between sets.

My cats seemed particularly disturbed by the bicep stuff; I think the weights freak them out. (Of course, it takes very little to freak them out.)

Yesterday I did my salsa workout DVD for the first time; it's something like "Sizzlin' Salsa Dance off the Inches". There's a 17-minute section with the steps done slowly and then moving up to tempo--mambo, Latin twist, cha cha, hip roll, etc. Lots of hip movement; I could really feel it there. It was fun, but I was glad no one could see me doing it, and I think it will be a lot easier when I'm lighter. Of course, all physical activity will. Today? I hurt like hell.

The awful truth

This is a typical occurrence following every. single. bloody. appointment. I've had thus far:

1) Letter from husband's insurance comes in the mail. Letter says as far as they know I have my own health insurance and to please provide them with further information. (I have called them and provided them with said information at least eight or nine times, and they have been covering my prescriptions without a question since last June, when my own health insurance was no more.)

2) I call the insurance company. I try not to be pissy and probably fail in tone of voice, but say please and thank you and have all my information conveniently at hand. I have to speak slowly and clearly into the clown's mouth to get routed to the proper agent, who may or may not route me to one or more agents or divisions, who may feign surprise, make reassuring yet noncommittal sounds I am convinced they send them to training specifically to learn, apologize, or not. It's a white-knuckle rollercoaster ride of fun and frolic, let me tell you! (Is this kind of unbridled excitement why people love to gamble? I like my money too much to ever let go of it long enough to find out.) I always wonder if I'm *really* being recorded or monitored for quality assurance.

3) Every single solitary time the claim I am calling about has been a covered service. I don't go to out-of-network providers; at least 95% of the time I check ahead of time that things are going to be covered.

Today's wrinkle is that they are trying to bill me for the psych eval that they required prior to this surgery. I specifically went to the only provider they covered at the wellness center because he was the one they covered; if I'd had my choice, I would have gone to a female practitioner, because that's just the way I roll.

So I call the behavioral/mental health division and tell them what's up. They tell me it's a medical claim because it's relating to the bariatric surgery. They also try to tell me the provider isn't in network, and I cut them off at the pass. They transfer me to the medical division.

The medical division listens to the situation and tries to send me back to behavioral/mental health and I say no, this evaluation was ONLY performed because it was a required step prior to bariatric surgery. They hem and haw, put me on hold to research it, and then come back on and say they will have to research it further and then call me back. So now I get to wait for them to call me back.

(Fittingly, I bought a copy of Michael Moore's movie "Sicko" the other day; I am a big fan of his films in general, but have a feeling this one's going to be my favorite. I will never forget when he had his TV show "The Awful Truth" on Bravo--the most memorable episode for me featured a man--the father of a small child, and he may have been her only surviving parent, if I recall correctly--whose health insurance provider refused to pay for an organ transplant that would save the man's life. Moore staged an elaborate mock funeral for the man on the lawn of corporate headquarters, complete with casket, pallbearers, the works. Following this, the insurance company paid for the gentleman's transplant.)

Exercise physiologist

Saw him yesterday. I think it was a better appointment. We joked around about our cats and how crazy they are. It's amazing how many people I've met who I had nothing in common with except telling pet stories. It's made many conversations and situations a lot less awkward over the years.

I did 25 minutes on the treadmill, and I could feel it, but wasn't in pain and am not today, thankfully. I am going to try walking again as my regular exercise and hope my ankle doesn't give out. He suggested I get a walking stick. It will double as a weapon, so that cheers me. Giggle.

He also taught me some strength training exercises. They were really similar to the type of exercises I've been given in physical therapy in the past. (I need to go buy an exercise ball to do a couple of them. I hope the cats don't pop it.) I also need some heavier free weights; mine are only a pound.

He told me I wasn't the most difficult patient he's ever had, which made me laugh, because it can be a lot more difficult if he wants; I am actually making an effort not to be. He also suggested I see a psychologist if I was able to because it might really help with my feelings around exercise. I know I need to, but I just don't think we can afford any more copays. I did call the insurance for a list of providers.

The towels at his office say "MOVE IT" which I guess, on some level, is cute, but in that sick-making way that makes my face twist like I've been sucking a lemon. (I'm not one of these motivational types, or perhaps I should say I'm not motivated by what is "supposed to" motivate people. Never have been.) He also said something about how exercise shouldn't be too comfortable or it isn't really doing you any good, because you have to push your body past the point of what it has adapted to. My response to that is: if you have had any part in motivating me to exercise three times a week for more than a month or two, you have effectively performed the miracle of your lifetime. I'm not going to turn into a triathlete, nor am I trying to. I'm trying to remember what my friend said about his guidelines being for an ideal world.

It all goes back to perfectionism, too--not wanting to do anything you cannot do perfectly, much less that you might fail completely. I've already failed at it completely several times. I think of exercise as torture, because it has essentially been used against me that way in the past, and not just in P. E. classes in school like everyone else. That's probably why I need the psychologist. Sigh.