"Enjoy your body."

I saw the nutritionist on Thursday. I was fifteen minutes late, which sucked, and she was rushed, but I think I'm a fairly easy patient now, being on point with the weight loss and not needing much in the way of guidance. I lost eight pounds in the last month. It had been thirteen the month prior, but she assured me that the pace with which it is being lost is normal or better than normal, particularly considering that I still haven't been cleared for physical therapy or working out. (I see the ankle specialist next week, and am wondering how that's all going to play out. I went to a trade show a few days ago where we walked around quite a bit and my ankle is still a bit sore from that.) I also discovered sugar-free candy from Harry and David, who have handily replaced Ben and Jerry in my heart--damn these dangerous men and their delicious concoctions! Thankfully, sugar-free candy does have that built-in deterrent in the form of its sweeteners, which have an adverse effect on anyone who overindulges in them. The warnings are on the packaging: "may have a laxative effect".

My nutritionist talked about the long-term importance of body sculpting and strengthening the core. "I want 2010 to be the year of the core for you," she said. I have long since established that I was in the bathroom when they were passing out the core--and besides, core is literally a four-letter word. The word "core" in the context she uses belongs in the same category as "team building", "holiday party", "three-legged race", "bridal shower" and "colonoscopy" in the English language lexicon for me. In short: eyes will be rolled; faces will be made.

I countered with, "2010 is going to be the year of having fun again." (Because it is!) If I can make myself stick to a workout regimen, ANY workout regimen, that will be the victory. I certainly don't see myself doing sit-ups until I vomit.

Her eyes got wide when she asked me if I was eating really good food. Food isn't anything I consider all that good. When you can have a few bites, how good can it be, and seriously, who cares? I have a lot of supplements to get in and that takes precedence. I told her the majority of my protein comes from the bullet supplements. I have heard that a lot of people stop using them, but I don't see myself doing that anytime soon. They are easy enough to choke down and I want to make my RDAs. Hair loss apparently happens predominantly from month 3 to month 7, according to a handout she gave me; I thought it was only month 2 and 3, so imagine my joy at this news. It is month four, and I have noticed more hair in the brush than usual, but I don't think it's enough to be noticeable to anyone but me. (I am not coloring it indefinitely just in case.)

We talked about the strangeness of being a weight I was at a much younger age, and how this process is, in some ways, like turning back the clock. I get around so much more easily, even with my ankle still in its healing stages, and physically I already feel 1,000 times better. I tell everyone--and will say again here--that even if I don't lose another ounce, this surgery has been totally worth it.

She talked about her passion, which is follow-up for two years post-op, and pointed out that the surgical center statistics of "only 5% will maintain weight loss" does not apply to those who participate in nutritional counseling and guidance before and after surgery; their success rate percentage is much higher. "I will see you in 2010," she said quietly. "Just...enjoy your body."

Enjoy your body. Those are not words that have ever been said to me. I have said them, angrily, several times, in reference to the barrage of verbal abuse I received growing up: "If people had just left me alone and let me enjoy my body, I..." Fill in the blank: been healthier, felt better, wouldn't have developed an eating disorder, wouldn't have flunked PE, wouldn't have become morbidly obese. The only message I received regarding my body as far back as I remember was one of constant and complete failure: my body looked wrong; it was not good enough. It was ugly and disgusted people. ("Fatandugly" was one word for a long time. It took decades to occur to me that I was not necessarily ugly simply because I was fat.) I felt--and still feel--much more comfortable when it is hidden. (There was also plenty of shame about being female and therefore dirty, an issue which is both different and the same.) As an adult, I have learned hard-won gratitude for my body--for its mobility and functioning senses. Actually enjoying it? I can make an educated guess: that will be something I work on for the rest of my life. I think enjoyment of my body will come in moments, much as true happiness does, fleeting revelations that cross my mind: Wow, it is easier to walk now. It feels good to dance. That workout felt good. I am already having those moments from time to time, and they are such a gift.

The world would be a completely different place if people learned from a young age that it was their right to enjoy their bodies, to appreciate what their bodies can do rather than focusing on the ways they fall short. This relatively simple concept would make a much larger dent in "the obesity epidemic" and eating disorder percentages than whether or not you can purchase bottled water at a fast-food restaurant or buy soda in a vending machine in school.

This week

My life has been crazy lately. My ankle surgery is tomorrow. I'm almost looking forward to it just because I will be able to rest and be left alone! I'm trying to imagine how it's all going to work, not being able to put weight on it at all for almost a month. The knee scooter is actually kind of fun. Showers are going to be tricky, but a friend lent me a shower chair and I don't plan on attempting to use it unless Mr. Salted is home. I bought one of those plastic covers to protect the cast or boot at the pharmacy. I'm wondering how much the ankle will hurt and for how long--I had to track down the liquid Demerol again, which is no mean feat, and the bottle isn't that big to begin with.

I've been working as much as I could because they have needed extra help, and I just had a copywriting job to do this morning as well. My grandmother was sent home to live independently today, much to my disgust. I made a decision to back far away from THAT situation (a) because I have done everything I could and (b) for my own sanity, but I have still been in daily phone and/or email contact with family members as well as checking in on her via the phone.

I saw the nutritionist yesterday--a different nutritionist who is filling in for the one I've seen this whole time. She was nice enough, but her affect bugged me--I felt like she was doing the swooping in, "tell me about your mother", Dr.Freud kind of thing. I just don't feel that I have much to say now--I take my supplements, I eat what I'm supposed to, and my weight loss is more than satisfactory. In fact, I had lost 12 pounds in the last month and was actually two pounds lighter than that weight this morning. I just don't care about food anymore. The less it factors into my life, the better. I make sure I get my protein and I eat my healthy snacks that I can have, and it keeps me alive. Sometimes I have a couple of bites of what Mr. Salted makes, but the majority of what I eat now is protein bullets, shakes, and bars. It is weird that so much of it isn't "natural" food, but I'm getting the vitamins and minerals I need, I feel great, and my hair isn't falling out!

I will be glad when my ankle is fixed so that I can work out, but I really don't want to see the exercise physiologist. It's a big part of the wellness center's follow-up thing, so I don't know if I can really avoid it, but I think it's a waste of time and money and I hate it. I don't need to work out in front of this guy while he says "good job" like I'm a dog he's training. I know a lot of my resistance is due to my past experiences with being forced to exercise, ridiculed, etc., but I just want to make my own decision to go to the pool or go for a walk my damn self. I don't want a coach or a trainer, and I find dealing with him really annoying--it just isn't working for me.

After I weighed myself this morning, I was 235, which is less than I have weighed in ten years. Needless to say, that felt great. I heard Old Navy was having a big sale, and it was payday, so I stopped by on my way home from work. I found some great lounge pants with skulls and hearts on them that fit now, some yoga pants that will fit soon, and some absolutely darling summer dresses (that will fit by summer) for $15 and $20. It's so strange to buy clothes that are too small on purpose. It's also disconcerting to feel good about your weight all day, then try on clothes that make you look like the Michelin tire man. I had to remind myself how much weight I've already lost and have faith in the progress I will continue to make.

Feel a bit better.

Saw the nutritionist and she was great. She was happy with my weight loss and with what I had to say. She said that salmon was actually one of the tougher fish to eat and that she had heard of other people getting it stuck like that. She thought I should stick pretty much to liquids for the next couple of days and I told her that was the plan. She gave me a few ideas of things I haven't tried and talked about a recent obesity information seminar she and the staff there had attended which included a talk by a chef who contributes to bariatriceating.com, the Susan Maria Leach website. She actually drew a diagram of the post-bypass stomach anatomy and how the pouch works that made a bit more sense--"just think of the pouch as a funnel"--and explained why it was better to eat protein first in a meal and all that happy stuff.

I have not been sticking to the drinking half an hour before and half an hour after eating--I'm going to have to get more on the stick with that. She was glad I wasn't working and told me that they actually encourage people to be off work for six weeks (!) if they can swing it. I don't know. I don't want to jeopardize my part-time job, since they work around me and since it just sort of fell out of the sky. We do need the money.

I also confessed to her my bran muffin transgression--"it was a carrot one and I took like three days to eat it and it was soooooo good". She wonders if I might have more symptoms of binge eating disorder than actual food addiction and recommended a book to me that might help. She also thinks I should have a counselor to talk to about my feelings about food if I'm transferring it back to how I feel about myself. She also suggested the post-surgery support groups. They gave me all that information before, so I have handouts about it around here somewhere. I might look up the online ones first. The thought of walking into a room full of people I don't know to talk about me -n- my fat does not thrill me right now. Binge eating disorder? I dunno. That's a lot like bulimia without purging, so it seems like a no-brainer. I've always thought of myself as a recovering bulimic.

I had a really nice, encouraging message from my aunt and uncle when I got home. That made my day.

Naptime.