Another job

Right now, I am working full time, going to school, and swimming laps three times a week. It feels like there is a lot on my plate. School seems really intense because the classes tend to meet only 2-5 times, but for 3-8 hours each time and sometimes after I've already worked a full day. I have had to get up at the crack of dawn every weekend day to get a good lap swim time. (I'm resisting the 5 AM swims on weekdays, but I might have to try those out, too, just to see what works best with everything else I have scheduled.) I'm trying out different Y facilities and different times to see what works the best with my other obligations, but those super-early weekend mornings have been the times when I could have my own lane and of course, those are the best swims. I had a great swim today--a lane all to myself for fifty full minutes. I can't do a flip turn, but starting today, I decided to never let my feet touch the bottom of the pool and at least grab the side and push off and keep going at the end of every lap. It definitely kicked the workout up a notch. Thus far, I remain the fattest person in the pool every time and I watch many wheels turn when I can swim faster or longer than many others who are present--and frankly, I'm starting to get a kick out of it, unless it's one of those jerks that look at me like I smell bad (and funny thing, those jerks are never the ones who drag their happy asses out of bed for the early-morning sessions). The staffer who opened the facility door this morning said, "Good morning, folks! I see all the SERIOUS people are here." It was just a joke, but one that made me feel really good.

What seems to be helping me stick to my routine isn't only the financial consideration of the Y dues being auto-deducted as I wrote about last time, but the fact that I think of this as another job--something I have to schedule in three times every week, no matter where I have to drive or what time I have to go.

My weight is changing in fractions of pounds, but not by much at all. I am trying not to focus on this, and I am still in the frustrating stage where my skin is getting looser and the skin on my stomach is preventing me from wearing smaller pants. The loose-skin-creeping-down-the-thighs thing is still happening too and really sticks in my craw. Swimming is great because of the toning aspect, so I'm glad it's my exercise of choice, but having ugly loose skin where I didn't even seem to have excess fat before is *really* damn annoying. I think about plastic surgery all the time and then I feel shallow for thinking about it all the time. I even think about having it on my eye bags and then I feel incredibly shallow and vain for thinking about it. I was telling a friend of mine about this the other day and I said, "I don't know why I keep harping on it. It isn't going to make me young."

"Is it really about being young?" he asked.

"No," I responded, "it's about me not feeling repulsive." The depth of honesty in that response surprised even me. (And that's what it IS about.) This amazing discussion followed about how I had always felt like people only tolerated the way I looked because I was a good person (and then I don't feel like a good person some of the time, either). I own just how incredibly screwed up that sounds--because it is. (It's not fun to feel it, either, believe me.) I have hunches where it all originated--I've read things, I've had therapy. One of my friends is convinced I have body dysmorphic disorder, but it goes far beyond body image and weight--when I feel sick/vulnerable, I feel ugly. I blogged about it at some length in "Compliments" (September 2009). It would be nice not to care about all that or have it be a factor or even a passing thought, but I do and it is. All I can do is keep going and, I guess, cut myself slack for unnecessary mental gymnastics. If only they burned calories.

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.

Words to live by

Sunday Stealing: The Majorly Personal Meme, Part One

1. Are you happier now than you were five months ago?

Yes.


2. Have you ever slept in the same bed with anyone that you shouldn't have?

Haven't we all? :)

3. Can you sleep in total darkness?

Not really.

4. Your phone is ringing. It’s the person you fell hardest for, the one who got away, what do you say?

There is no such person, and even if there was--I screen my calls. ;)

5. What do you think about the weather this summer?

A lot of people have complained about it, but I'm not fond of hot weather, so I'm good with it.

6. How many people do you trust with everything?

Truthfully? Zero.

7. What was the last thing you drank?

Diet Snapple Trop-A-Rocka--I am totally addicted to it and really hope they make it a permanent flavor.

8. Is there anyone you want to come see you?

I'd rather go see them--there are several!

9. Name one thing you love about winter?

Being under many blankets, with or without Mr. Salted and a cat or two.


10. Have you ever dated a Goth?

No, but I've been one.

11. What are you looking forward to tomorrow?

Getting a Jamba Juice in the morning.


12. Name something you dislike about the day you’re having?

The fact that I don't have more energy.

13. What's the longest that you have committed to one person and one person only?

Five years. I am hoping to improve on that!

14. What’s the first thing you did when you opened your eyes today?

Got up and took a Claritin.

15. Has anyone ever told you they never want to ever lose you?

Several.

16. Is there anybody that you wish you could fix your relationship with?

Not really. I'm at a place of acceptance with who that person is.

17. Could you go out in public, looking like you do now?

Yeah. My motto is "if you don't like it, don't look".

18. Do you think things will change in the next 3 months? How?

I'm just going to keep losing weight and feeling better :)

19. Do you believe that you never know what you got until you lose it?

At times, though I think that is more a symptom of being young (or just immature, or at the very least, untested). I think you can figure it out if you pay attention along the way, but ultimately, a great deal of life is about dealing with loss and learning from it. I think it was Dr. Seuss who said, "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." Whoever said it, they are wise words.

20. Do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to?

Several.

It's been a year since surgery.

As the tumbleweeds continue to dance through this blog, I knew it had been a while but I didn't realize I hadn't posted at all in the month of August--and it is September in a couple of days. This summer got away from me in a big way. I finally got off swing shift about a month ago, and that helped everything immensely. I learned not to take two classes simultaneously and work full-time, because I wasn't effective anywhere. Mr. Salted and I both got sick and couldn't get over it--we are both still hacking a bit, weeks later--and I had a couple of migraines to boot. It's been the longest period of Just Getting Through the Day that I've had in many years, and I can't say that I care for it too much. But things are on the definite upswing.

As the year anniversary of the surgery approached, I was starting to shut down. With everything else going on in my life, it definitely wasn't my primary focus as it had been, though I was still following the basic rules. I got incredibly anxious when it came time for the follow-up appointments, since my weight hadn't changed between the 9- and 12-month mark. In fact, it went up a pound or two. On swing shift, I went up eight pounds almost overnight; when I went back on day shift, I immediately lost five or six of it without any behavior change, lending credibility to all those studies out there now that inadequate and poor quality sleep causes weight gain. Before my appointments, I couldn't sleep for days, thinking the nutritionist and doctors were going to yell at me and feeling like a failure because of that one or two pounds. I also still hadn't found time to start working out.

The appointments all went incredibly well, so I worried for nothing. My bloodwork is stupendously healthy. The Simcor (20 mg simvastatin, 500 mg niacin) lowered my cholesterol considerably. I have lost 80 pounds since surgery, 100 pounds since my highest weight. My surgeon could not have been kinder or more encouraging. Sitting and talking with him, I was again reminded by his passion for what he does, and moved by it as well. He was training a physician's assistant I had not previously met who is an absolute doll--she made me feel better before he even got there.

My weight hovers around the 205-210 range, and my 18-month surgery anniversary is in February. The surgeon wants me to try to lose 20-25 pounds by then and to ultimately shoot for 180 pounds. (That is what I weighed when I graduated high school. It's funny how I remember what weights I've been by the age or period of my life I was in at the time.) He said how much I lose will depend on how hard I work (duh) but both of us agree I probably cannot get much below 180 pounds without cosmetic surgery to at least remove the excess skin. While this may sound discouraging to some, I really appreciated the realistic approach. He talked about the absurdity of the old weight charts--how they would have just looked at my height and determine I should weigh between 120 and 140. (I joked that my skeleton weighs more than that, and he laughed like he had never heard that before.) Basically, he reiterated that I am doing what I am supposed to be, I am about where he would want me to be, and reinforced the message that the first year had been a complete success. I thought the fact that I was not working out yet would be the biggest bugaboo, but he even managed to turn that into a positive. "This is the perfect time to start," he said. "You aren't going to lose any more weight unless you do. It's a great motivator."

Yes. Yes, it is.

A few days later, I joined the YMCA. I paid slightly more for a membership that allows me to use any Y in three adjacent counties. I have been swimming three times a week, and it feels great. I hadn't swam since before I had lasik in 2007, and it's great to both see what I'm doing and feel how much more easily I move through the water. The first couple of times I swam for 40 straight minutes, but within a week I was shooting for 50. I don't try to go super fast the whole time, only to keep going. Breaststroke is the easiest for me, and I concentrate on a gentle, strong, consistent movement. (I discovered that flutter kick still hurts my ankle a little.) The first couple of times I went, I felt like the lifeguard was looking at me like I was about to stroke out. Other people remain the most annoying part of any workout for me--particularly people that act like the pool is their own personal possession and are visibly annoyed that someone new is there. Of course, I encountered the most obnoxious person to date on my first time going. In the past, that might have driven me out of that pool. Now I say to myself: "My money is worth just as much as yours, I paid just like you to be here, and you're not going to get in the way of my goals". I just keep swimming.

(My grandmother turned 90 recently and I asked her if she thought she would make it to 90. "I never gave it much thought," she said. "You just kept going?" I asked. "Yeah," she replied. "Just kept going.")

My weight still hasn't changed since I started swimming; I was warned that loss happens much more slowly now. Stuff is still shifting around, though, so I know muscle is being built. I went down another cup size, and some of my jeans are 16s now--a size I haven't worn since high school! The hardest part of it all is my skin getting looser. I can fit everything but my stomach into a lot smaller clothes, and if that apron (that's what I call it) wasn't there, I could wear very different clothes, too. I try not to focus on that, but sometimes it gets to me. I am going to want it surgically corrected ASAP.

I am still not small by any means, but I definitely feel that the world perceives me differently. I am sure some of this is because I am projecting more confidence and positivity, but the world remains unabashedly shallow. Men, in particular, are a damn sight nicer. I get a lot more smiles, doors opened, and conversation in general; sometimes (more often than I can even believe) I even get checked out. While I enjoy that (I cannot tell a lie!), it also sticks in my craw a little. I am the same person I always was--kind, funny and smart, no matter what I weighed. The idea that a person, particularly a female person, has to fall within the parameters of looking a certain way in order to receive basic acknowledgment as a human being will never be okay with me. 100 pounds lighter, I am still too large for many to acknowledge. I find myself caring a lot more about my appearance, dressing better--I even started bleaching my teeth (something I've wanted to do for years, and I finally found a dentist with a reasonably priced option for doing it).

I resolve to keep fighting the good fight, and I resolve to post more often! I am leaving for the pool in about half an hour.

One of many reasons I don't find personal trainers effective

Copyright 5-23-10 by Sandra Bell Lundy

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