Titanomachia (War of the Titans)

"WOMEN ARE THE LONG RUN! This is the ... Main Game."
~ Tom Peters in Re-Imagine!

My cousin, Jimmy Pomponio, with April Meyer at a New Jersey Titans Women's Professional Football game.

It's always good to air myself out, get a change of scenery.
Do something I wouldn't normally do.
Gain a new perspective.

I went to a football game last night for the first time since, hmph, I dunno, high school maybe?
Don't ask me to explain the game.
I'm just about learning what a "down" is and the difference between a 'punt' and a 'field goal'.
This whole sport-thing is new to me.

I may not have thoroughly understood the game, but I wasn't bored.
There was plenty to think about as I watched the NJ Titans play the Empire State Roar at Passaic County Tech in Wayne, NJ.

This is not just ANY football league.

The players are women.
Yep, females.
They play full contact, professional football, shoulder pads, helmets and all.

Not touch football.
Tackle football.

Hardcore football.

These women are incredible.
I watched them in awe.
They had something, more than spirit, more than determination.
They had freedom.

They tromped around that field with a freedom I'm just now getting to know.

None of them seemed worried about looking dainty, skinny, or if their butt looked fat in their uniform. I bet they're not spending too much time fretting in front of the mirror the way I do. They're too busy living and playing and competing.
Their bodies aren't stopping them, rather, their THOUGHTS about their bodies aren't stopping them.

Their body image is either non-existent or just fine.

I've never seen such a variety of body types on one playing field.
Some of these gals are built like brick sh*t houses with extra rolls of fatty insulation just for the bulk of it. All the better to block and tackle. All the better to keep the other team from advancing toward the end zone. All the better to play their sport.

I'm not saying that they don't CARE about their appearance. I'm saying they don't care what OTHER people are thinking or saying about them or how they're shaped. I imagined their lack of dysfunctional concerns about body image gave them the freedom to play unfettered by self consciousness. They moved around like they owned the place and I don't mean the playing field. I mean they walked around like they owned their bodies ...and they do.

They pushed their bodies hard.
They pulled muscles.
They fell to the grass clutching injured knees, pulled calf muscles and twisted ankles.
They'd limp off the field, throw their helmets to the ground and hop around till they got the gumption to get back in the game to take another beating.

They have a lot of heart and the guts to go with it.

The Titans are not even a year old.
The opposing team, the Empire State Roar, has been playing professionally for 7 years.
The Roar had shiny, sleek looking uniforms, their own team doctor, corporate sponsorship and more than twice the players as the Titans have.

Even a novice sports fan like me could tell which team was the underdog.
The Titans had a beat-up, careworn look about them.
Many played more than one position.
They fought and scraped for every inch.
They may not be sleek, but they have potential.
They're fighting to express every inch of that potential.
God bless 'em.

Props to my cousins, Coach Jimmy Pomponio and General Manager Maria Pomponio, for having faith in the little team that could!

My friends and family sat in the stands on the 50 yard line freezing our butts off.
We cheered.
We hoped.
We held our breaths.
Our team lost 22 - 6.

But you have to play in order to lose and they sure did play.
The playing WAS the winning.

They played and I watched.

Because of them, those mighty mighty Titans, I see myself differently.
I watched girls as big as I am running, dodging, tackling and getting hit.
They're athletes.
They compete.
Their body size, their body type? Not so important.

So, what's stopping me?
Last night when I got home I kept my sneakers on.
I went inside my apartment, gathered the garbage and walked it to the dumpster out back.

It was late, around 10pm.
The parking lot was quiet.
No one around.

I tossed the bags into the bin and turned to walk back to my apartment.
No one was looking.
Nothing to stop me.

I trotted for a few feet.
A little brave now, I picked up the pace.
I started to pant.
I felt the loose flesh flapping against itself.
I heard the flop flop flop of fat against fat.
I kept on going.

I jogged back to my apartment.

It was really tough.

I was out of breath.
I felt like I was going to puke.
My heart was racing.

I felt like crap.

Not bad for a first try.

*Movement for the UnMotivated*
Know when to push yourself.
Know when to conserve your energy.
When it comes time, bust out.
Half the battle is overcoming the obstacles in our minds.
Free your mind. The rest will follow.

Yesterday's Weight: 256

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J. O. Bee

Click image to enlarge!

Left to right: Aida and Lisa 1990ish;
Lisa and Aida and Mary Anne Puentes (nee Reno) early 1990s.
I worked for Spirit Cruises, Inc. My mother thoroughly enjoyed my discount!

Dear God I HATED the corporate world.
I hated the 9 to 5 schedule.
I hated being in sales.
I hated competing with friends for the almighty dollar.

After graduating High School I went straight to work.
College?
Hmp.
College was for those "other" people who didn't know how to read and educate themselves.
Besides, I wanted to become a philosopher! There was no degree for that, was there?
Certainly NOT...or so I thought.
Being a know-it-all prevented me from knowing much of anything.

So, off I went into the corporate wasteland. I suffered the soul-sucking tedium, the life-sapping fluorescent lighting, the banal banter, the utter meaninglessness of it all. I worked many, many different jobs during my 12 years after high school prior to my enrolling in college. I didn't love any of them.

I know.
You look at those smiling pics of me about to board the Spirit of NJ and you might be thinking, "What fun! It must have been fun to work for a harbor cruise company!"

No.
Not fun.

Riding as a passenger, enjoying the harbor cruises is fun.
Working in an office dealing with customers and competing as a sales executive...not so frikkin' fun.
As a matter of fact, it was depressing.

As a matter of fact, I BEGGED them to fire me.
They did.
I collected for a year.
It was bliss.

During my unemployed year, I got my priorities straight.
Figured out what I wanted to do with my life, and did it.

I vowed NEVER to re-enter the corporate world again.
NEVER would I succumb to the tedious, meaningless, life-sapping drudgery.

Until now.
3 university degrees later.

Yeah, it's time to get a job.
Oh dear Lord, help me to be happy doing whatever it is that I'm going to do.

Does this mean I'm not going forward with my author/public speaker/rock star plans?
Come now.
You know me better than that.

I fully intend to move forward with my author/public speaker/rock star plans!
I just need to make some money in the meantime.

Doing what?

Oh, that's right. I DO have a job already!
I'm an adjunct professor.

But that doesn't count.
That's not work.
I mean, sure, I get a paycheck, but it's a blessing not a chore.
I'm thrilled every time I walk into that classroom and see my students.
Really.
They show up.
They sit.
They listen.
By the looks on their faces, they're enjoying themselves.
From the feedback I get on my reviews, they're learning.
How could I call that a j-o-b?

That's not a job, that's a calling.
It's fulfilling.

But it's only part time.
I'm having trouble making ends meet.
I have to bust a move.

I considered going back to grad school for another degree.
Just something semi-challenging to bring in money (grants, financial aid) and get me some health insurance (student insurance provided through the school) while I get my career in order.

Looking through the graduate catalog didn't inspire me.
The M.Ed is for practicing teachers. I was hoping to study the philosophy of education.
No luck there.

I don't know what made me go to Monster.com.
I don't know what inspired me to sift through the ads for anything with Trainer/Instructor in the job title.
I don't know why I did it but I did it.

There are some cool part time jobs out there for someone with my skills!
Kaplan trains and pays folks to conduct classes on taking entrance exams (SAT GRE and such).
There are several online degree granting institutions that are looking for instructors.
A few interesting companies are looking for workshop leaders and trainers.

I COULD DO THAT!!

At first I hesitated.
I was afraid.
Afraid of the nightmarish hell I remembered from working corporate for 12 years.
Afraid that if I worked I wouldn't have the energy to put into blogging, working out, professor-ing and volunteering at my university.

"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."
~Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear.

Something changed yesterday.
No, it was the day before.
Thursday.
I taught 4 back to back classes.
AND
I worked out
AND I had company later that evening.
It didn't destroy me.
I was tired but not exhausted.

The next morning after I took my shower, I wrapped myself in a towel (towels wrap all the way around me now!) and plopped on the edge of my bed to catch my breath.
That's what I do.
I plop,
rest,
stare into space,
maybe play a couple of volleys of fetch with Bosie (the Bosa-rita Ro).

Even if I'm in a hurry, I plop and rest so I can recover from the exertion of taking a shower.
As I was plop-resting I noticed something.
I wasn't tired-out from my shower.
The plop-rest was a habit, an old habit, an old unnecessary habit!
I didn't NEED to catch my breath.
I wasn't OUT of breath.

Wait.
You mean to tell me that all this working out has actually WORKED??
I've actually changed my stamina.
I've actually become more fit, more capable, more healthy!

I can do MORE now!

I don't have to hide out in grad school to bring in money.
I can WORK!

Not only can I work, I'm kinda looking forward to it.
Going on an interview, getting dressed up, polishing up my resume, getting paid for my skills, wow.
Who ever thought I'd look forward to that?!

So what if the scale isn't telling me the story I want it to tell?
My body is telling me a story.

I bet it has a happy ending!

( Scroll down and check out an amazing video. Thanks to my beloved cousin, Maria Pomponio for sending it to me!! Click here to check out NJ Titans Women's Professional Football!)

*Movement for the UnMotivated*
You can move.
You can dance.
You can do SOMETHING.
Point your toes.
Breathe deeply.
Dance in your seat.
You were BUILT to be healthy.
You were made to thrive.
Don't let pain stop you.
Don't let the weight keep you down.
Don't believe me?
Look at this animal.
Big, heavy, could crush you if it fell on you...DANCING!
I never knew a horse could do this...



Yesterday's Weight: 256

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Slimming down the Mind

Lisa at the Meadowlands Fair with Pooh in
1997, my fat, depressed, bad relationship, goth days.

The scale budged. It dropped down to 252, my lowest weight since the surgery.
Then it spiked up to 258 last night.
I'm getting fed up.
Not with myself, with the scale.

I work my ass off at the gym.
I eat such a clean, low fat, high fiber diet.
Why am I not losing weight faster??

Wait.
Don't answer that.
That was a rhetorical question.

Counting calories and eating planned meals is not on my agenda right now.
Don't bother suggesting it.

And don't suggest more lean protein.
The only animal flesh I'll be eating is fish.
Yeah, Susan Powter interviewing the great John Robbins in her book Food turned me vegetarian again.

sigh

And don't suggest protein shakes.

I know what I have to do.
Cleaning up my diet and cleaning up my mind ARE on the top of my agenda right now.

I'm done with dairy.
Or mostly done with dairy.
I think I'll keep yogurt on my shopping list, for now.
I'm getting rid of milk in my coffee and tea.
I'm switching to Soy Milk.

Sugar.
I'm going to watch out for hidden sugar especially in my cereals.

White flour.
It sneaks in sometimes in the form of pretzels and bagels.

Gotta be more careful about food.

That's the easy part.
The mind part is a bit more tricky.

Letting go of the fat, heavy feeling around my abdomen requires some work.
Some visualization.
Some intention.
Some paying attention.

Paying attention is difficult when you're not in love with the focus of that attention.

I'm not in love with my reflection right now.
At my new gym, Retro-Fitness in Belleville, NJ (right across the street from The Chandelier for all you Italians in the area...lol)
they have some seriously unforgiving mirrors.
I've been checking out my dumpling body shape as I weight-train.

I felt ridiculous yesterday.
I felt like "Who do I think I am being FAT as I am and working out?"
As if weight training was for thin people only.

For the record, there was only one slender female using the weight machines yesterday during my work out. All the rest of the women were over 30 and overweight.
They're so cute. They bring their purses with them from machine to machine. They look apologetic and self-conscious as they skulk from the leg press machine to the shoulder press machine.

I want to tell them to hold their heads high, that they are powerful and wonderful and have every right to be there. They should walk with their chins up and NOT move out of the way when one of the men walks toward them on the same path.

That's what I've been doing.
Head held high.
Not budging or deferring to the men on the walkway.
Looking straight ahead.
Feeling confident.
Until.... the f**king mirror f**ked with me.

Then I cowered.
I felt ashamed.
Self conscious.
Ugly.
Fat.
Not entitled to be there.
A wanna-be.
A fake.
Bloated in the belly.

Especially since the scale isn't moving.
I feel like I'm fooling myself.
I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing.
A meatball in an Adidas shirt.

"...it's fun waving at people who think you're nuts."
~ ad for asics in Body & Soul magazine

I know that THAT'S what I need to clean up most.
And yes, I truly believe that it's a mental block keeping the scale stubbornly stuck in the 250's.

My mother, God bless her for being just-right every once in a while, told me this morning that I need to discover my "earning power".
She said that I am educated, capable, talented and I need to put myself into action to earn what I'm worth.

Yeah.
Totally uncharacteristic of her.
Usually she's happy to have me be dependent on her.
Usually she shows doubt and even barely disguised contempt for my dreams and plans.
Not today.

She gave me sincere encouragement.
"You can do it, Lis. I know you can!"
Then of course she wanted me to congratulate her on coming up with the phrase "Earning Power" which she insisted she invented herself and had never heard before.
But, hey.
Don't look a gift-miracle in the mouth, right?

Ok.
Deep breath.
Time for some self-hypnosis...

I am shrinking.
I am muscular.
I am fit.
I lose weight easily.
The scaled dips down to my goal weight with ease.
I am naturally losing fat, burning fat, becoming lean, fit and vibrant.
I am a runner in training.
My body is naturally toned and strong.
My workouts bring me closer to my ideal state of wellness.
I am confident.
I am good.

If I say it often enough, and clearly enough and with conviction...

*Movement for the UnMotivated*
Put your fists up next to your ears.
Now swivel like a washing machine.
Oh! Hear those sound effects?
My neck and back are making all kinds of sounds.
Time to see Dr. Brewster!!

Yesterday's Weight: 258

Not So Crazy

Lisa in the early 1980s.

I had my check-up-from-the-neck-up yesterday.
It wasn't a full blown therapy session. I met with the Advanced Practice Nurse for my quarterly med management visit.

She asked about my work situation.
She was concerned with my level of satisfaction with my current employment. She was pleased to hear that I was doing something fulfilling.

I mentioned my financial situation.
She didn't judge me.
She said she was there to help me with whatever I chose to do.

I hunched over in the chair and said that I had this "crazy idea" that I could be CEO of my own company, an author and public speaker. I told her I had this 'insane notion" that I could be creative and earn my living that way.

She didn't flinch.
"That's not so crazy," she said.

She encouraged me in a low-key, practical way.
She looked at my qualifications.
She looked at my charts and my incredible transformation over the past year.
She studied my demeanor.

Not
so
crazy.

She acknowledged that I could be taking steps toward making my book a reality.
She acknowledged my anxiety over asking my father to help me with the rent this month.
Yet...
Her faith in me was unshakable.
I saw it in her eyes.

I saw that she believed in me.
I saw that she was committed to helping me achieve what I set out to achieve.
I saw the "this girl has something" look in her eyes.

After my session, I went to see my father.
I didn't cry.
He huffed a bit but he said he knew how hard I was working.
He said he knows that I don't like asking for help.
He gave me a check for the rent AND cash for gas.

I didn't feel too bad about it.

I have faith in my ability to get my career going.
I know that I can rely more on myself and less on my parents.

It's one more piece of my karma to work out, one more clanging mechanical monkey to silence.

I went to the gym.
Had a wonderful, sweaty workout.
Rode at Level 5 to spare my sore hamstring.
Watched Bill Maher and The Daily Show (they added Comedy Central to the channels available on the LCD TVs at the gym).
Felt great.

Then I came home to that nasty, ugly, resentful comment from "anonymous"on my blog (click here, but don't let the venomous negativity poison you).

First off, let me say eeeewwwwwwww (makes gesture as if to flick some slimy snot off my hand).

I expressed anxiety and shame in that blog post.
Why would a person take advantage of my vulnerability and try to exacerbate that shame??
How horribly mean-spirited.

How horribly jealous to observe that I was taking the time to heal and grow AS IF THAT WERE A BAD THING.

Sure.
How dare I put my health and well-being at the top of my list.
How dare I make my recovery my first priority.
Right?

And "take time" away from what exactly?
Working some soul-sucking 40+ hour a week job?
As if THAT counted as "real life" and anything else was a cop out.
I've been talking to many folks who are recovering from morbid obesity and they're all at different stages of entering, leaving, avoiding, embracing gainful employment.

I would NEVER express "disappointment" with someone who was struggling to get well and learning to prioritize their self-care. What kind of karma would I be generating by lashing out that way? (What kind of karma am I generating by being so pissed off now?)

I have folks reading this blog who are on disability. Folks who run their households while their spouses work. Folks who run their own businesses. Folks who took time off from their careers to raise their kids. Folks who work and go to school. Folks who just go to school.

No one of us is any "better" than the other.
No one of us would dare say that they have it easier or harder than anyone else.
Life throws things our way whether we work 40+ hours a week or not.
We're catching, dodging, and getting hit by life no matter how our utility bills get paid.

And if I DID work 40+ hours a week I would STILL get my fat ass to the gym 6 days a week and I would STILL blog.
I don't think anyone who's been reading my Blog for any length of time would doubt that about me.

Except me.
I need to be the flood of faith in my own ability.

I have the angel and the devil on my shoulders.
The devil is that angry, self-righteous, judger who left that chicken-shit anonymous comment for me.
The angel is the voice of my Advance Practice Nurse who told me my goals, dreams and plans were not crazy. They are do-able.

My weakness if not that I'm not punching a clock 40+ hours a week.
My weakness is that I let that negative voice take up space in my head.

I ate past full last night.
Yeah, I ate too much fat free/sugar free pudding with Grape Nuts sprinkled on top.
I ate till I was out of breath.
I let that negative commenter get to me.
How sad.

If my parents knew that I let some nay-sayer get the best of me THAT would break their hearts.
My parents' hearts broke over and over when I landed my ass in the hospital time after time with complications from morbid obesity.
My asking them for some financial support while I get my life together?
Not so heartbreaking.

Today I have to fight the urge to beat myself up.
Today I have to silence that negative voice.
Today I must conjure up some compassion for that "anonymous" poster.
She isn't really talking about me anyway.
She's talking about herself.
No one is patting her on the back for struggling to stand-on-her-own-two-feet and that makes her angry.
She can't pat herself on the back either because she's too bitter and resentful for having to work so hard while no one applauds her for it.

Too many times she's lashed out and alienated lovely friends who tried to warm up to her.
Too many excuses to stay home rather than go to the gym and too much energy blaming her circumstances, "well if LISA had to work all day SHE would stay home feeling tired and sorry for herself too! It's just because she's a spoiled guinea brat that she has the luxury of getting well at her own pace!"

No.
No way.
I'm not letting that be my truth.
I've worked too hard to backslide now.

Now I have the hard work of drowning out that negative voice with a flood of faith that I'm doing the right thing for myself. A flood of faith in the voice of my Advanced Practice Nurse. A flood of faith in the supportive voices of my readers.

A Cherokee elder sitting with his grandchildren told them, “In every life there is a terrible fight—a fight between two wolves.
One is evil: he is fear, anger, envy, greed, arrogance, self-pity, resentment, and deceit.
The other is good: joy, serenity, humility, confidence, generosity, truth, gentleness, and compassion.” A child asked, “Grandmother, which wolf will win?”
The elder looked her in the eye. “The one you feed.”

Maybe my good wolf wants some Grape Nuts.

*Movement for the UnMotivated*
Feed the GOOD wolf.
When you reach high above your head to stretch first thing in the morning, say something nice to yourself.
Every time you move say something nice to yourself. Tell yourself how brave and wonderful you are because YOU ARE!
Expand the wellness with your inner words.

Yesterday's Weight: 252
Today's Blood Sugar: 177

Click here to leave me a comment!
(I'll be "moderating" the comments because of spammers
NOT because of dissenters. I welcome criticism. As Malcolm X once said,
"If you have no critics you'll likely have no success.”

My Beloved Monster

My beloved monster, Davy Jones, in
Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest.

My beloved teen years,
Lisa, 1984.

I walked into my new gym, beeped in with my shiny new membership card, looked up at one of the many LCD screens on the walls of the gym and there he was.

I gasped.
I was thrilled to see him.

My beloved monster was terrorizing the survivors of his latest conquest on the deck of The Flying Dutchman. The magnificent monster, my Davy Jones.

He's tragic.
Deformed by the bitterness of unrequited love (though she DOES love him).
Ironic.
Terrible.
Cruel.

He fascinates me.
I rode the stationary bike and watched Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest.
It was bliss.

And I was in pain.
My right hamstring hurt. It felt like I pulled it.
I shifted every which way on the bike seat.
I tried to get comfortable.
I switched from the recumbent bike to the upright bike, with Davy Jones flickering to life on each screen as I went.

It still hurt.
Did I mention it was bliss?
Pain and happiness.
What a combo.

I would have watched the whole damned movie if it weren't for the damned hamstring.
I WANTED to keep on pedaling.
My body said 'no'.
It pissed me off.

I WANT to be an athlete but I DON'T want the sports' injuries.

That's what happens when your body flickers back to life after being half-dead for so long.
The aches and pains of waking up jab at you.
The stiffness begs for circulation.
The body longs to be loved rather than treated like an unwelcome monster.

I always felt compassion for them.
The unwelcome Monsters.
Villains.
The bad guys.

I always thought they were misunderstood.
If only someone had shown them a little kindness, they could be saved.
Transformed.
Made good.

The Wicked Witch of the West scared me when I was a little girl. As I grew older from childhood to pre-teen, suffering the daily tauntings on the playground and in the locker room, always victimized, always outcast, I understood how a person could turn evil. I understood how turning the other cheek gave the taunters a new cheek to bruise. I understood how trying to be nice to the bullies irritated them more and evoked more cruelty.

Yet, in my mind, I was the monster, not them. I was the "bad" character. I was the one who brought out the worst in people. Their cruelty was my fault.

The Wicked Witch was me, not them.
I believed that if we had the chance to get to know her she might not be so hateful.

That's what I wanted from the bullies who picked on me, for them to get to know me, to see me as human, to empathize.

They terrorized me.
The made fun of me.
Sometimes they were physically abusive, but in my mind I was the monster.
It was my fault.
If I were different I could bring out the best in them rather than the worst.
I blamed myself.

I had more compassion for them than for me.
They weren't cruel they were misguided, I thought.
I should have been smart enough to figure out a way to make them behave differently.
If I inspired such cruelty from them then I must be the bad guy.

No wonder I identify with monsters.

Last year at this time I felt like I was trapped inside a monster.
My body hurt.
My body didn't work.
My body was cruel to me.

I treated it like it was an unwelcome hindrance to my being.

I knew I had to save myself.
I believed that love could save me.
If it's true that compassion can transform a monster, then compassion for myself could transform me.
I had to cultivate that difficult love.

I figured that if I spent more energy loving myself, understanding myself, having patience for myself and forgiving myself for crimes against myself, I can transform...maybe.

Yesterday I looked at my deformed body in the mirror as I worked out on the weight machines.
Years of abuse have left their marks.
Misshapen and misunderstood.
Full of potential.
Longing to be whole.

I'm learning to love my monster.

*Movement for the UnMotivated*
New movements use new muscles and give you a rush of new energy.
Do something different.
Get a new workout video.
Try something new like dance, tai chi or boxing.
Wake up the sleeping muscles!
Transform!

Yesterday's Weight: 254
Today's Blood Sugar: 201

How cool is Davy Jones??

new gym

Click picture to enlarge.

Top: Aida Micklus (nee Renta, now Sargese) in 1945 pregnant with my brother, Lance.
Bottom: Lisa in 1983 in a typical 80's New Wave outfit (a cross between Boy George and The Thompson Twins).

Notice how I have my head turned to the side so that my chin looks pointier?
That's an old trick from an old mindset.
Pointy is better than rounded.
Who says?

I wonder if I'll ever be satisfied with my appearance.
In retrospect I think I was really pretty.
If only I could see the "pretty" in the present rather than in hindsight.

Today, I may not be feeling "the pretty" but I'm feeling "the happy"!!
Big time.

It all started with my feeling like crap.
I have to ask my father for $761 this week.
I'm not happy.
I'm expecting a guilt trip from him:
"When are you going to get on your feet?"
"Ya know Lis, I can't keep working forever."
"Any word on a job for you up at school?"
"I can't keep doing this."

And me feeling like an errant child.
Wanting to cry.
Feeling BAD that I spent the summer writing and working out, you know, doing the hard work of getting well.
And yes, enjoying myself.
I've been really, truly enjoying my life.

I walk.
I get outside.
I attend classes that inspire me.
I write.
Enjoying good food.
Enjoying my friends.
Dreaming up my future.
Doesn't sound like much but it's heaven for me.
I'm happy.

Why would I want to ruin it by getting some full time job that I'm not passionate about that zaps all my life energy in exchange for what? Benefits??

I've been stepping out in faith.
I've been operating under the assumption that doing exactly what I'm doing will bring me life support.
I CAN make a career out of writing, speaking and getting well.
I tell myself that my hard work will pay off.
Doing what I love WILL bring the resources I need to support myself.
But maybe not in time to pay October's rent.

Then my father will sigh and look put-upon and I'll feel guilty for FINALLY loving my life?

So, yeah.
I felt like crap yesterday.
The father-dread has been lingering over my head like a bitchy ghost.

I went to the gym yesterday. It was to be a short workout because I wanted to get up to school in time to attend a Personalized Fitness class. I walked into my gym proudly wearing my new (used) Nike swoosh logo t-shirt. I placed my membership tag under the scanner. Instead of a friendly BEEP I got a nasty BRAAAMP like the sound of someone getting the wrong answer on a game show.

My membership was up.

Could my crest fall any lower?
The bitchy ghost father-dread and now this??

The kid at the gym who is always so friendly let me "go" with the promise that I'd bring in a check for the membership renewal the next time I was there.
I tried to work out as usual.

I felt like a criminal.

I rode the bike and walked the treadmill feeling like I didn't deserve to be there.
My workout was tainted.

Now I would have to ask my father for my rent money AND my gym membership renewal.
My eyes teared up.

Maybe I just needed to learn some delayed gratification.
Maybe I should work out at Panzer (the gym at school) where there's always a wait for the cardio machines. The scale is old and rickety.
My students see me there and I feel self-conscious.
The hours are truncated to accommodate the athletes so I wouldn't have the freedom to go whenever I chose to go.
It would be a not-so-nice change in my routine.

Then I tried to rationalize that it was OK to ask my father for the rent AND the gym money.
He SHOULD help me. He had plenty to say when I was fat and sedentary. He SHOULD want to help me get well, right?

I made myself feel guilty for wanting what I wanted.
I told myself I was a spoiled guinea brat.

Carlo to Connie Corleone in The Godfather:
"That's right, break it all you spoiled guinea brat! Break it all!!!"

I felt ashamed for being 43 and still having to ask my father for financial help.
I told myself that I'd never learn to stand on my own two feet if I didn't suck it up and forfeit my cushy gym and be content to work out at school.

Dammit!
I WANT to work out at a cushy gym!
He should think I'm worth it!
He should WANT to spoil me!

I wasn't convinced.
I wasn't convinced that I was worth it.

I sulked.
I planned to suck it up and work out at school.
I told myself that I was lazy and that I hadn't worked hard enough to deserve a nice gym.
I'd take my punishment, work out at Panzer and make the best of it.

Then a miracle happened.

A darling friend overheard me telling my tale of woe about the gym.
He took me to the brand-spanking new Retro-Fitness in Belleville, NJ, a fabulous playground for fitness with little personal TV screens on all the cardio machines, a theatre where you can do cardio in the dark while watching a cool movie, a juice bar, tanning beds, and it's HUGE!

He bought me a year-long membership.

I'm still dizzy from the joy of receiving this generous, spontaneous gift.

And I'm happy.

I worked out last night with a light, happy heart.
I rode the stationary bike and watched Mission Impossible 3 on the personal LCD screen attached to the bike.
Pedalling at Level 8 is so much easier when you're watching Phillip Seymour Hoffman kick the crap out of Tom Cruise!

I can't wait to go back to my new gym today.

I can't wait to discover all the conveniences of the neighborhood. I've always fantasized about being able to do a load of laundry while I'm working out. How great would it be if there was a laundromat nearby??
Can ALL my dreams come true?
Today I'm convinced they can.

Today I am happy.
Today I will enjoy the joy!

Maybe I can convince myself that I deserve it.

*Movement for the UnMotivated*
Find a place that inspires you.
If you can't go to a "place" then find some music or a video.
Create an atmosphere that inspires you to move.
You deserve it.

Yesterdays Weight: 255
Today's Blood Sugar: 172

Click here to leave me a message!

blasting through

Lisa posing with Simba in 1999 (?) close to 400 pounds,
barely able to enjoy walking through the Meadowlands Fair.

Wow.
What a cleansing past few days!

Movement is like throwing lighter fluid on a fire.
The more you throw the more the flame grows.
(the more you throw the more you glow!)
The more it burns the more crap gets burned away and turned into ash.
Then the phoenix rises.

“Change is the constant, the signal for rebirth,
the egg of the phoenix.”
~ Christina Baldwin

Something about these past few days...not sure exactly what...set something off inside me and lit me up like lighter fluid.

I'd say it was the cranking it up to Level 8 on the stationary bike but... what is it that inspired me to crank it up to Level 8 to begin with?

I'd say it was the coming to terms with my radical stance on WLS post-op life (wanting to set it on it's ear and all, hmph!). Finally admitting my anger and disappointment with the whole program.

I'd say it was getting rid of ALL my old cotton knit tops in size 32 and 4xl and replacing them with athletic logo t-shirts courtesy of SAL's (Salvation Army store).

I'd say it was the semester kicking my ass back into gear. My students. Their energy. Getting back to the front of the classroom after a strange, introspective summer.

I could say it was the great Hypnosis Guild meeting last week where a master NLP practitioner helped me get clear of some mental obstacles.

I'm not sure what's going on, but it IS going on.
(I got it goin' on, baby!...lol)

I jogged a few paces last night.
Yeah.
Big time.

I want to run so badly I can't wait.
I can't wait for this knee problem to be fixed.
I want to run NOW NOW NOW.

I mentioned to my mother that I was no longer exercising, I was in TRAINING.
Revving up to cross-country running (I'm not even sure what the term "cross-country running" means. I just know I'd like to run on the soft running track, on grass, on dirt, through the woods and avoid the pavement as much as possible.)

She looked faux-supportive in her skeptical way and asked, "When's the last time you ran?"

I couldn't remember.

I TRIED to run back in 1999 when I took a gym class as an undergraduate at MSU.
It was embarrassing.
Look at me in that picture up there.
I mean it was downright DANGEROUS for me to be running.
It was more of a loping, lurching, limping lumbering along more than a run.
I was so humiliated, I never went back to class.
I wrote a paper and earned my 1 stinkin' credit for phys ed that way.

I haven't "tried" to run since.

Till last night.
Oh God it felt so good.
I ran/jogged a few paces
then lost my nerve.

I'm not sure what I'm afraid of.
Sure my knee will hurt, but it hurts even from biking and walking.
Why not run for a bit?

Sure my pannus will flap and flop against the tops of my thighs.
All the better to deflate it, my dear.
Make it shrink.
Cut it off.

I think that and then the litany of self-doubt kicks in:

If you hurt your knee you have no health insurance.

So you need to stop all this foolishness about becoming a writer and get a job with benefits.

How can you get your pannus lopped off if you have no money?

You can't rely on your parents all your life.

What's the matter with you?

When are you going to stand on your own two feet?

You can't even pay your rent this month without a "loan" from your father, and you think you're going to RUN?

You're a loser.
You can't stand on your own two feet let alone run.
Get real.
Be realistic.
Stop dreaming.

Stop this nonsense about being an author and get a job job job job job job!

whew!
Talk about a necessary fire!

Burn.
I need to burn.
I want to burn those negative thoughts.

But how???
I wondered.
Then the universe led me to this clip from You Tube about our Mental IPod!

Now to put that into practice....






Click here to leave me a message!

Namaste and good luck!

Good Questions

Lisa at her Senior Prom, Clifton High School Class of 1982.
~ sigh ~
I thought I was fat and ugly.
I wore bangs to cover up as much of my face as possible.

I've always said, the people who annoy us the most have the most to teach us.
The moderator of that Yahoo group I talked about yesterday... annoys me.

AND

She helped me a great deal.
I don't mean that in a sarcastic way.
There's no irony in my saying 'she helped me.'

She helped me.
For real.

She asked me (between her pro-WLS-according-to-the-medical-establishment arguments)
questions, good questions, questions that I want be able to answer.

Sometimes we need another person's perspective to shine a light on the obvious.
It's like the old chestnut about not being able to see the forest because the trees are in the way.

I feel better equipped to do the talk shows and interviews I'll be doing someday SOON by having these questions and answers sorted out in my head.

She did me a favor.

She asked why I had the surgery in the first place if I didn't intend to stick with the program.
GOOD QUESTION!

Thing is, I fully intended to stick with the program. During the weeks prior to my surgery I stocked up on chewable vitamins, all kinds of broth, and yes, PROTEIN SHAKES.
I had about $200 worth of shake powders waiting for me when I returned home from the hospital.

I was determined to stick with the program for life.

I followed the liquids to soft foods program as prescribed.
When I did return to semi-solid foods
I ate frequently in teeny-tiny amounts.
Protein first, always.

I sipped water throughout the day as instructed.
I never drank when I ate.

I was by-the-book.

Having suffered for so many years with "out of control" eating and the effects of morbid obesity, I wasn't taking any chances.
I surrendered, waving my white flag to the AMA (American Medical Association) and the very clinical, regimented approach to post WLS life.
Doing it "my" way hadn't worked.
Submissive and broken I committed to turning my life over to shakes, planned, measured meals, protein, and calorie counting.

I was going to diet and stick with it, dammit!

So, what happened?

I was sick.
Sick to my stomach.
Nauseated no matter what I ate.

Aversion to the foods that were making me sick caused me to NEVER want to eat them again.
Fats... oh dear God, they made me sick.
Processed foods? Bllllleeeeeeeeeeehhhhhh. Gag. Ack!
And protein shakes??
Yeesh.
Not happening.

I could barely eat.
I was weak, depressed and thoroughly malnourished during those first few post-op months.

During that time, by the grace of God I read something about fats and how many post-ops cannot tolerate them.
I experimented.
I stopped eating fats.
No more cheese (that was depressing cuz I LOVED cheese at the time).
No more meat.
No more oil on my salad.
No more foods with any more than 2g of fat per serving.

I gave up the fat.

I felt a bit better, but still sick.
Again, the grace of God saved me.

I craved fresh, raw, yellow or orange bell peppers.
The craving was weird but specific.

Miracle of miracles. I ate them and I didn't feel sick.
I experimented further.
Raw or cooked vegetables with NOTHING on them except a little salt and pepper were the only foods I could tolerate.
This seemed VERY STRANGE to me because NO ONE was talking about fresh fruits and vegetables in post-op life.
Not my PA.
Not my dietitian.
Not my surgeon.
(This does NOT constitute criticism of my surgeon, my PA or the team at Valley. These folks took wonderful care of me. They were attentive and compassionate waaaaaay above and beyond the norm!)
And certainly not anyone on the discussion boards.
If anything they talked about how difficult it is to digest raw foods and how they should be eaten in moderation if at all.

I was confused.
My dear friend Esmilda suggested that raw foods contain enzymes that facilitate digestion. (Click here for a very cool article on the subject of raw foods and enzymes).
She wasn't a bit surprised by my ability to tolerate raw foods rather than cooked, processed foods.
She was also not at all surprised by my cravings for orange and yellow peppers.

"Beta Carotene" she explained.
Yellow and orange foods are rich in beta carotene.
Our bodies are smart.
They crave what they need.
I was healing.
Beta Carotene is a natural healer.
(Click here for a great article on Beta Carotene).

She made sense.
What she said rang true, not merely intellectually but physically.

I experimented with more foods.
The best foods, the whole, raw foods gave me no digestive problems.
Lean meat (though I'm not eating any meat as of last week) and freshly prepared fish gave me no problems either.

The processed "diet" foods made me sick.
The protein shakes made me sick.
So, I stopped ingesting them.

I became stronger and stronger.
(I am continuing to become stronger and stronger.)
If I was depleting my protein supplies by blatantly refusing to supplement with protein, I wouldn't be able to work my body as hard as I do.

I'm cycling at Level 8, baby.
Look out!
I've crossed the threshold from daily exercise to training.
My body feels nourished.
I feel strong.
I trust my experience.
For once, I'm not letting the so-called 'experts' dictate to me.
My body, my choices, my life.


Her other GOOD QUESTION:
Why am I so angry at the WLS community?

For their exclusivism.
For their disordered relationship with food and the propaganda that perpetuates it.
For the good/bad dualisms that set people (like me) up for failure.
For their denial of their eating disorders.

I was a binge eater.
I refuse to trade that in for an anorexic, calorie-deprivation disorder.

Diets didn't work for me before the surgery. I don't expect them to work now.

In the beginning?
I expected this surgery to FORCE me to change my evil-eating ways and stick to that DIET once and for all!

I was going to forget about demand feeding.
(Click here for a great Blog post on demand feeding and intuitive eating).
I was going to forget about listening to my body's cues of hunger and satiety.
I was out of control.
A glutton.
I didn't trust myself.

I didn't trust my body's ability to tell me what it needs.
I didn't trust myself to eat when I was hungry and stop when I became full.
Surgery was going to be my savior.
It was....sort of.

I will not say, "If I knew then what I know now, I wouldn't have had the surgery."
Because I DID KNOW then what I know now.
Intellectually I've known about whole foods for years.
Intellectually I've known about detoxing off of sugar and white flour for years!

Those were always on my to-do list.
Get off the white sugar.
Get off the white flour.
Get off the meat.
Get off the caffeine (haven't done that one yet).

Start eating more like Madonna.
Brown rice, whole grains, vegetables, fruits, fish, soy protein, you know, BIG life.

I KNEW that.
So I can't say, "If I knew then what I know now..."
because I've always known.

BUT I didn't know I could actually do it.
I didn't know that LISA could change so dramatically.
I knew the benefits of the lifestyle but was unaware of my ability to live it.

Could I have made this transformation without the surgery?
I don't know.

The detox was key.
Those first 3 months, my rocky post-op honeymoon, were rough.
The detox was forced.
The cleansing of my gut was radical.

I'm not sure HOW I could have done it without the surgery.

But... back to my anger.

I'm angry because people fail.
Even with this surgery, people fail.
Their needs are not being met, not by the medical establishment and not by the post-op WLS communities.
The pro-surgery world fills people's heads with hope (Don't believe me? Read the opening chapter of Khaliah Ali's book about gastric banding!) that this surgery will be a "tool" for success.

Yet, the success they speak of isn't the success that I'm experiencing now.
In the post-op WLS world, success is measured by one's ability to stay on the prescribed post-op diet.
The same restrictive program of deprivation that failed us prior to the surgery is encouraged and applauded as the one and only way to achieve post-op success.

The system sucks.
Folks fail.
They still have cravings.
They fall off the wagon.
They regain the weight.

The disordered eating is never addressed.
The disordered eating is merely suppressed by the surgery.
Then the honeymoon ends and the eating disorder, untreated, kicks right back in.

Hello!
Knock knock knock...post-op world? Hello?

Abstinence does NOT equal recovery.

Recovery is freedom.
Calorie counters are not free.

So, yeah, I don't care for WLS post-opters who promote a program of deprivation as a cure for morbid obesity and disordered eating.

They piss me off.

They piss me off because I believe that what they're promoting is unhealthy.
I believe that in the long run most people will stall, fail and/or end up back at square one with no insight or answers to help them.

They piss me off the same way 12 Steppers piss me off with their "this is your last chance" mentality.
Their attitude strikes me as smug.
Their methods strike me as self-punishing.

Geneen Roth, Hirschmann and Munter, Susie Orbach and any of other feminist, humanist, enlightened thinkers who speak out about the subject of food and wellness may not have (much) to say about post-op WLS folks. They aren't experts on the side effects of intestines that have been mutilated to facilitate malabsorption. But they ARE experts at eating disorder recovery.

I'm all about the healing.
I'm all about the cure.

I'd like to get well and STAY well, thank you very much.

I get angry at post-ops who tell the tale of daily struggles and daily battles with food, willpower, diets, whatever.

Life shouldn't be that way.

Life doesn't have to be that way.

It IS possible to win the war, not merely the daily battle.

Who the hell wants to wake up every day to fight the same enemies day after day?

That's not life. That's not a recovered life.

So, yeah. I'm pissed off.

No one said it better than Stan Marsh from South Park...

Click here for the video clip!

STAN: I am saying this to you, John Edward. You are a liar, you are a fake, and you are the biggest douche ever.

JOHN EDWARD (TV psychic): Everything I tell people is positive and gives them hope. How does that make me a douche?

STAN: Because the big questions in life are tough: Why are we here, Where are we from, Where are we going? But if people believe in asshole douche-y liars like you, we're never going to find the real answers to those questions. You aren't just lying, you are slowing down the progress of all humankind. You douche!


*Movement for the UnMotivated*
Notice your posture.
Sit up tall.
Press your shoulders back.
Take a deep breath.
I feel better immediately when I do that!

Yesterday's Weight: 256
Today's Blood Sugar: 158


Got a question or a comment?
Click here!

Controversy and Bad Body Thoughts

They've been weighing heavy on my mind for a few days now.
There are women on a certain Yahoo discussion group who are vehemently against straying from the prescribed WLS post-op diet.
More specifically they are vehemently against my suggestion that whole foods give us adequate nutrition (for post-ops and non-post-ops alike). They believe that scheduled meals are better than demand feeding. They swear by a protein heavy diet. They're not big fans of brown rice, vegetables and fruit. They are adamantly anti-carb.

I don't want to argue with them on their board any longer.
It's not fair to them.
It's not helping me.

I had no idea how fervent these folks are about measured meals and protein shakes.
They truly believe that protein supplements are vitally necessary for post-ops to prevent malnutrition and to promote weight loss.

When I say "truly believe" I mean these folks are FANATICAL!

I honestly had no idea that discussing my new lifestyle would get them so riled up.
I mean REALLY angry.
Some were downright insulting.
No one warmed up to my point of view.
NO ONE.

Some were polite in their disagreement.
A few were kind.
Most were really zealous
and frightening.

They said that I'd be welcome back when I realized that doing it MY way would land me in a wheelchair, make me a "medical mess", and force my body to devour its own organs to make up for my lack of protein.

One woman did some research on Brown rice and claimed that I'd have to eat 15 cups of it to get enough protein in a day (she forgot the beans, beans and brown rice being a complete protein).

Some pointed out that there were people on that forum who once thought as I did.
When they became so weak and sick from trying to do it "their" way they crawled back to the forum for support, admitting that "their" way didn't work.

They shot down my credibility because I'm only one year post op. They said that although my stats look good now, so many who have come before me and are more than a few years post-op know better than I do that there is one and only one true path to post-op success.

I implied that there are always multiple ways up the mountain.
They weren't buying it.

They shot down my nutritional opinions because my information applied to "normal" people and not bypass folks.

They claimed that gastric bypass post-ops are part of a unique subculture (can we isolate the "cult" part of that phrase?) wherein we have special needs for life. The post-op plan is rigidly defined for us by experts and successful post-ops who are way more than a mere one year out from their surgery.

They implied that my input was confusing and misleading for the newbies on the board.
Too many folks had "died" because they refused to follow their doctors' and nutritionists' post-op plan. They were trying to help me understand that what I was doing was dangerous. They were being harsh for my own good.

sigh

Ok.

I relent.

That board is not the place for me.
Arguing wasn't helping me or them.
There is no room for difference of opinion regardless of my current state of dramatically improved health.

The moderator even said that my "everyone is different" attitude was really just an excuse not to work the program the way it should be worked.

She made me feel like I'm a heretic with nothing of value to say.

So I won't say it there any longer.

I don't want to further upset myself or those ladies on the board.
Continuing to engage with them would be about as productive as walking into an evangelical Bible camp and setting up an altar to Krishna then trying to get people to understand that an infinite god has infinite manifestations, that Krishna and Christ are equally valid expressions of the eternal divine, and heck NO I'm not a heathen!

They'd lynch me.

I'd rather not fight a losing battle, thank you very much.

Let those folks continue doing what works for them.
Let them believe what they want to believe.

My concern was for those desperate people who gain weight after their post-op honeymoon and for those folks who had the surgery but are stuck with an uncured eating disorder. The hardliners might shame them into thinking it was THEIR fault for failing.

I thought my insights could help them.
I thought the story of my recovery (especially the nutritional support for my recovery) might be valuable.

The hardliners didn't think my story was helpful at all. Nor did they think I'd be successful in the long term.

The moderator emphatically stated that anyone who gains or slips up needs to get back on track with the prescribed program. "It works if you work it" is her philosophy (straight outa 12 Step).
For anyone failing to work it?
According to her, they have one option.
They need to stick to the one-true program ... or else.

No need to tweak the one-true, perfect system.
If someone has cravings or gains weight it's not the system that led them there.
The fault lies completely with the person who fails.
Diets don't fail people, people fail on their diets.
End of story.

These folks will not be moved.

You know what?
I'm no longer putting my energy into moving them.

They don't want me and they don't need me.

I feel sorry for anyone on that forum who feels disillusioned by the post-op program and is made to feel that there is no way out for them.
If the only place they're looking for support is on boards like those, I fear that they won't get the vital information and encouragement they need to beat their eating disorder and get well forever.

I've beaten my eating disorder forever.
Even if I slip up I do it as someone who's recovering.
Do I eat past full?
Sure.
This morning I did.

I was angry.
I ate my oat bran bagel too fast.
I washed it down with Crystal Light.
Too much too fast.
It was binge behavior for sure.

I was aware of what I was doing as I was doing it.
BUT and who doesn't love a big BUTT in the middle of their breakfast?
I forgave myself in the middle of my bagel.
I finished my bagel, the bagel I was eating too fast. I finished it and stopped eating.
I could have continued eating.
I didn't.
I stopped.

All morning, thinking about those women and the harsh things they said to me, I felt fat.
My abdomen felt especially heavy and poofy.
I felt my pannus jiggling and swinging with every step I took.

I was having some serious bad body thoughts.
(Click here for Hirschmann and Munter's step by step on overcoming bad body thoughts)

The pooch.
The apron of fat.
The hanging abs.
I hated them.
I hated myself for having them.

Then I caught myself.
Was it REALLY my body that was upsetting me?
Yes, I decided it was.

Bad body thoughts continued so
I took it further.

My abs stick out.
Poofy.
Pouchy.
Fluffy.
Ugly...

Hey wait a minute!!

My ideas out in the world... my input on that discussion board ... my poofy, pouchy, panuchy opinions being met with fanatical opposition ... accusations of doing something so unhealthy it would deplete my organs and land me in a wheel chair ...

THAT'S what was bothering me.
I was preoccupied with their disagreement AND I was placing that uncomfortable feeling in my belly and then hating my belly.

How dare I have a belly that sticks out so far really meant:
How dare I assert my opinions out in the world.

How dare I take up space in the world with my ideas and my poochy belly!

Ha!

"Learn to decode your bad body thoughts and use them as a way to engage in self-exploration. When you have a bad body thought it often means that you are ambivalent about noticing something that you are thinking or feeling. "
- adapted from Hirschmann, J. R., & Munter, C. H. (1995)
When women stop hating their bodies: Freeing yourself from food and weight obsession

I decoded my bad body thoughts.

Ah, freedom.
Sweet freedom.

Now I don't have to feel horrible about taking up space in the world.
I can choose to feel something else.
Like satisfaction that I identified the attitudes and beliefs of the post-op traditionalists.
I know what I'm up against NOW rather than possibly be stumped on a talk show by surprising viewpoints and opposition for which I am unprepared.

I can feel grateful.
Now I understand that in certain communities my point of view will be misunderstood and unwelcome ... and that's OK.

Not everyone has to love me.

Not everyone has to do things my way.

Um ... I changed the ending of this fable so that the donkey lives...

The Man, The Boy, and The Donkey

A man and his son were once going with their Donkey to market. As they were walking along by its side a countryman passed them and said: “You fools, what is a Donkey for but to ride upon?”

So the Man put the Boy on the Donkey and they went on their way. But soon they passed a group of men, one of whom said: “See that lazy youngster, he lets his father walk while he rides.”

So the Man ordered his Boy to get off, and got on himself. But they hadn't gone far when they passed two women, one of whom said to the other: “Shame on that lazy lout to let his poor little son trudge along.”

Well the Man didn't know what to do, but at last he took his Boy up before him on the Donkey. By this time they had come to the town, and the passersby began to jeer and point at them. The Man stopped and asked what they were scoffing at. The men said: “Aren't you ashamed of yourself for overloading that poor Donkey of yours—you and your hulking son?”

The man and Boy got off and tried to think what to do. They thought and they thought, till at last they cut down a pole, tied the Donkey's feet to it, and raised the pole and the Donkey to their shoulders. They went along amid the laughter of all who met them till they came to Market Bridge, when the Donkey, getting one of his feet loose, kicked out and caused the Boy to drop his end of the pole. In the struggle the Donkey's feet came untied and he galloped away.

“That will teach you,” said an old man who had followed them:

“Try to please all, and you will please none.”

*Movement for the UnMotivated*
Snatches of movement are better than no movement at all.
Don't beat yourself up if you don't do 45 minutes at a clip.
Do what you can.
I was at the laundromat and while the clothes were drying I took a walk.
Then I cleaned out my car.
The time flew!

Yesterday's Weight: 255
Today's blood sugar: 158

Got a question or comment?
Click here.

controversy

I was going to bang up a short blog then go on my way garage saling, but what I have to say today will take time.

I have a story...

Folks from the largest Post-Op gastric bypass Yahoo group on the web are loudly disapproving of my post-op way of eating.

I'm on my way to a wheelchair because of my lack of protein (I don't drink protein shakes).

They also think I'm poisoning the minds of the newbies with my brown-rice-and-beans mentality.

I can't do a rush job on telling THIS story!

I'll blog later :-)

Morphing

Lisa 1998 (?) still an undergrad weighing 340 - ish pounds.

Lisa in 1980, thick but pretty, 16 years old 150 - ish pounds.

My thighs rubbed together so I thought I was disgustingly obese.
Pity.
Pity that I had no clue how to talk nicely to myself.
Pity that I didn't know how to take care of myself.
Pity that I was so hard on myself (in a bad way).
Pity that I had to wage war on my body, lose continuous battles, and finally draft a peace treaty at age 43 instead of much, much earlier.

At 43 I'm learning to live in peace.
No war.
No battle.
No winning or losing.
Slowly arriving at a place of calm self acceptance.

I'm looking at that pic of me from 1980 in my brown Roxanne swimsuit.
I was built like a potential athlete.
I remember how I felt.
I felt hemmed in.
Self-conscious.
I suppressed my own energy.
My body craved movement back then but my head was so screwed up I denied my athletic inclinations.

I was emotional and smart.
I had a seething brain.
It seethed against itself.
I told myself hateful things about my own body.
I magnified every negative tidbit about myself and internalized it as truth.

My body dysmorphism became lethal.
Since I felt like a fat monster I eventually became a fat monster.
Or what I THOUGHT was a fat monster.

I was always a girl.
A nice girl.
A smart girl.
A creative girl.
Lovely but miserable.
Sadness packed its way onto my body as fat.
Sadness loaded its way onto my body until I couldn't even move.

I should have run.
I should have danced.
I should have, should have.

No more shoulding all over myself...lol.

No more regrets.

As soon as I get this left knee fixed I'm running.
I'm running on pavement.
Running on grass.
Running on the beach.

In the meantime I'm in training.

I'm slowly morphing into a vegetarian cross-country runner
the way Seth Brundle morphed into Brundlefly...


Piece by piece I'm changing.

I'm sore and it feels GREAT.

I'm alive and I feel WONDERFUL.

Working out is no longer a chore it's a lifestyle.

The will of wellness, our divine teleology, our vitalistic essence pushes us toward radical vibrance.
I believe that's true of ALL of us.
Each and every one of us.

Radical vibrance is our essential natural state.
Radical because it's counter to what society tells us about ourselves.
Radical because we thought that only certain people had this inside them.
Radical because its been so thoroughly repressed in all of us and it's ready to burst out of our chests like a baby alien.


We've been brainwashed into believing that we need to either be born with it or buy it from the corporate merchants.
Not true.
ANYONE CAN DO THIS.

We just need to get out of our own way.

Clear away guilt, blame, negative self-talk, feelings of inadequacy, shame and perfectionism.

We have no need to feel guilty. We've been trying to care for ourselves the only way we knew how.
We're not to blame for anything. We're responsible.
We are good, wonderful, divine, luminous beings.
We have everything we need already inside us: the will, the resources, the desire.
(Click here for the best blog ever on the "already-inside-us" topic.)

We are good, smart and worthy.
We don't have to get it right immediately.
We're flexible and teachable.
We're egoless enough to fail our way to success without blame, shame or regret.

If I can do this, you can do this.

This is our life force I'm talking about.
Life wants to expand and express itself abundantly in your life.

I got out of my own way and I'm still getting out of my own way.
Food, movement and expression.
I used good foods, aerobic movement and relentless, self-confessional expression to get myself out of my own way.

You can do it too.
Start wherever you can.

Dream big.
Live large.

I believe in you.

*Movement for the UnMotivated*
Remember when sucking in your gut was a self-conscious body punishing act of wish-I-was-smaller? (Hey, maybe not for you, but it was for me!)
Do it now and catch your self talking to yourself.
Be sure you're saying kind, loving things like: I am getting in touch with my abs. My ab muscles are strong and healthy.
I suck in my gut to feel their power.
I am getting well.

Yesterday's Weight: no idea. I worked out in Panzer instead of at my gym.

Got a question or comment?
Click here!

issue handled

I did it again.
I pedaled like my life depended on it.
I perspired so much I had to BUY a shirt from the gym so I could drive to my next appointment in dry, comfortable clothes.

My bike ride was tough.
It rocked.

I'm a little sore this morning, but not so bad that I won't pedal at level 8 again today.
Riding at level 8 is an incredible high.
I can't wait to be a REAL athlete.

I can imagine it clearly: running through the woods, hippity hopping through creeks and streams, hearing my breathing echoing against the trees, birds chirping and little furry creatures rustling through dried leaves as I pant my way through, the reassuring clop, clop, clop of my sneakers as they touch down on mudpacked earth and rocks, sweat dripping into my eyes, picking up my shirt to wipe it away, alternating shade and blasting sunshine, the smell of wet, green grass.

I will do this.
As clearly as I see the September sun pressing through my window and warming the top of Bosie's tiger-striped head as I type this.

I see it.

My thick legs muscled and firm. No more drapery of fat hanging down over my knees. No more self-conscious worry about how I look in shorts. No more fear of pain and fatigue.
Fitness.
Oxygen.
Energy.
High energy.

Last night at Hypnosis Boot camp we had a change of plans. Our scheduled speaker had car trouble and was unable to attend. We had no program!

We were fortunate to have an MSU professor and Master NLP (Neuro-Linguistic Programming) practitioner in attendance. He gave us a crash course in the basics of NLP and helped us with some medium level issues.

My issue was money and career.
I have skills.
I have experience.
Why don't I have money rolling in commensurate with my efforts?
What was stopping me from putting my expertise into action?
Why was I not doing what I do BEST out in the world?

who cares?
the Why didn't matter.

Move forward.
Picture myself doing exactly what I want to do.

the stoppage?
the obstacle?

lack of credibility

Who am I to be giving talks on weight loss and fitness and complete transformation when I still weigh over 250 pounds?

TAKE THAT NEGATIVE VOICE
Give it a helium balloon
Give it a squeaky voice
put it in my pinkie toe
laugh

Give the positive voice more prominence.
Make the empowering story the star.

i have a story
120 pounds lost

halfway to skinny

totally transformed life

a worthy experience

Present my talk, my expertise, my story as being IN PROCESS.
The "before" pics are astounding.
My "fat" pants are big enough for 4 people to stand in.
Being halfway there makes me relatable.
People trust what they can relate to.

Obstacle overcome.

Issue handled.

Would things have gone the way they did if I hadn't pedalled at level 8 two days in a row?

Breaking through the plateau physically helped me to break through the plateau mentally.

It all relates.

No doubt about it.

Watch this...



*Movement for the UnMotivated*
If it hurts, rub it.
Don't suffer.
Never believe that you deserve to have aches and pains.
Blast hot water on it.
Ice it.
Massage it.
Make yourself feel better.
Move in ways that make you feel loved and cared for.
Movement should not feel like a punishment.
Move in joy.

Yesterday's Weight: 256
Today's Blood Sugar: 211

Got a question or comment?
Click here!

Up a Notch

"Patients fed on a high dose of Optimism statistically fare somewhat better than those fed only on grim Pessimism.
This should appear no more astounding than the recorded fact that children who see a lot of violent horror movies have more sleep disorders than children who see only comedies."
~ Robert Anton Wilson in
Quantum Psychology: How Brain Software Programs You & Your World

Change your surroundings and change your perceptions.
Hang around with high energy people and you can't help but have some of that rub off on you.
Rub elbows with athletes and you get a buzz of gotta-move-my-body charging through ya.

Put enough good stuff in, good stuff is bound to come out.

I wanted something yesterday.
I'm not even sure where this desire came from.
I'm not sure I HAVE to know where it came from.
All I know is that it came.

I was riding my stationary bike at the gym. I was in a hurry. A ladyfriend of mine was coming over to play Scrabble. I had 45 minutes to work out and 15 minutes to get home, vacuum and cook up some tamari almonds. No time to spare.

I felt guilty.
Due to my own poor planning I had not left myself enough time to do the weight circuit after my cardio.
This didn't sit well with me.

The scale has been kinda hovering at 157 for weeks (a steady 120 pound weight loss since my gastric bypass surgery in August 2006) .

During this plateau I've been blogging, ranting and raving about the benefits of whole grains (especially brown rice) while poo-pooing the low calorie, high protein approach that's foisted upon us WLS post-ops.

My poo-pooing is based on my observation that low calorie only works for the time we're immediately post-op because we're sedentary and just don't need the fuel. Once we start losing and are able to move, a high protein diet without whole grains is unbalanced and doesn't provide the energy we need to live.

I prefer a high activity-enabled metabolism, a high energy life, movement and mobility. If I wanted to sit on my ass with low cardiovascular strength, poor circulation and low energy I'd be happy to consume 1500 calories or less per day and do a whole lotta not much in the movement arena.

That's not the life I want.

I want LIFE and I want it abundantly.
I want an engine that runs.
I want a taut, lean, capable body.
I want to move.

Rant, rant, rant
yet my scale wasn't budging.
I figured it was time to put my method where my mouth is and step it up a notch.

So I did.

I was on the bike riding at level 5.
At level 5 I hit 108 - 115 beats per minute (heart rate) which is a good fat burning cardio rate.
I was riding nicely, listening to music.
Then it came...

WHAT IF ‽

I pushed the Level control up to 8.
Blessed 8.
8 like the month I was born.
8 if you turn it on its side you're looking at the symbol for infinity.
8
8
8

My legs ached.
My thighs burned.
I started to drip crazy sweat.
My hear rate went up to 126.

Riding at this level was an effort.
It was uncomfortable.
I felt like going back down to level 5 or 6.

I kept on going at level 8.
I pedalled and perspired.
I felt the burn.

I loved it.

I think I finally experienced the endorphin rush that I've been hearing about for years.
It felt wonderful.
I had that feeling of sweaty satisfaction, like when you've just had an incredible orgasm, you know the kind you really have to work for.

I swear I could feel my body burning fat.
I swear I could FEEL my metabolism kicking in.

My shirt was drenched.

I kept it up for 30 minutes.
After that, I rode at the cool-down pace for 5 minutes.
I did 10 minutes on the treadmill.

I swear, I felt like an athlete.
It was bliss.

I can't wait to do it again.

*Movement for the UnMotivated*
Go outside for lunch.
After you've eaten, do ankle circles to help your blood flow.
Take a leisurely walk while you digest your food.
You don't always have to power-walk.
Any walking is good.
If you can't walk, do some stretching and leg lifting sitting on a nice park bench.
It's a beautiful day.
Get outside!

Yesterday's Weight: 257
Today's Blood Sugar: 185

want

Release your wanting and allow yourself to have.
-Hale Dwoskin

I'm glad I'll be going to "Hypnosis Boot Camp" tomorrow night with the North Jersey Chapter of the National Guild of Hypnosis. I'm a certified hypnotist and I've done a whole bunch of "not much" about it.

I haven't pictured the life that I want.
Not thoroughly.
I picture certain things.
The house.
The grounds.
My friends enjoying the comforts of my hospitality.
My work-out room.

Then I vaguely picture the career part.
Writing, speaking, Oprah.
But it's hazy and undefined.
I'm holding myself back by feeling "not ready yet".
My energy level could be better.
Lots better.
I think that means something.

I'm afraid of overcommiting myself with my own big ideas.
Fear.
The terrible demon.

I hope tomorrow's Boot Camp helps me to yank my visions into shape.
I want
I want
I want
but what???

Last night, I had the privilege to hear Ally Schechner-Kanofsky
speak about her Semester at Sea
where she spent the summer aboard a renovated cruise ship taking classes and visiting 13 countries, including Cambodia, India, Brazil and Japan.

She described the beauty.
She also described the poverty.
She told us about a 6 year old child holding a baby and begging at her feet.
She told us that in the poorest of nations, people thing all Americans are rich.

I scoffed.
"I'm not rich!" I thought.
I thought about my student loans (now in forbearance and not in default, thank God)
I thought about the money I owe my mother.
I thought about my small, part-time income.
I worried about all the things I don't have.

Until Ally made me realize how rich I really am.
Look at this place.
My humble little apartment is a palace compared to people who live with no plumbing, no walls on their house, no income, no clean water, and begging for food.
My CATS eat better than most people on this planet.

Look at my closet.
Full of beautiful clothes 7 sizes smaller than the size I wore last year.
The folks in the two thirds world are walking around with no shoes.
I have more shoes than I can fit under my shoe bench in my comfy living room.
I have 3 TVs.
My computer is efficient.
My refrigerator has food in it.
I have ELECTRICITY!

My life?
Rocks.
I audit classes at MSU on subjects that fascinate me.
I have a part time job as an adjunct professor teaching the most brilliant, enthusiastic students in the world.
My gym is clean and enticing.
I have fabulous friends.
I have money in my pocket for food and gasoline.

Heck, it would take more than one Blog post to count my blessings.
I am blessed.
I am grateful.

Is it ok to want more?

I say 'yes'.
Yes because the more I have the more I can share.
Yes because when I figure out how to make all my dreams come true I can teach others to make their dreams come true.

I need to help me first, then I can change the world.

Ok, permission to want granted.
But what do I want?

Today I give myself permission to imagine, envision and describe the life I want, the career I want, the creativity I want to manifest, the abundance I'm worthy of and the Love I can give to the world. Having learned to Love myself I can teach, train, educate, edify and empower others to do the same.

We can heal the world if we heal ourselves.
That's what I want.

Namaste.

*Movement for the UnMotivated*
India may be an impoverished sh*thole, but it's also the beautiful Mother of The Eternal Dharma.
See, this guy's laughing!



Yesterday's Weight: 258
Today's Blood Sugar: 164

Obesity Clinic on TLC

Scenes from "Obesity Clinic" on TLC.

"One of the few nursing homes equipped to handle severely obese patients is Brookhaven Rehabilitation and Health Care Center, in Far Rockaway, Queens, which has a 60-bed obesity unit. Robert T. Kolman, the administrator, said Brookhaven spent as much as $8,000 for a custom-made wheelchair, $500 for an extra-wide, extra-sturdy commode, and hundreds of thousands of dollars on renovations like widening doorways to 54 inches from 36."
~ NY Times, "As Obesity Rises, Health Care Indignities Multiply"
by Richard Perez-Pena and Grant Glickson,
Novembebr 29, 2003

Administrator, Dr. Robert T. Kolman with Dennis at
Brookhaven Rehabilitation Center in Far Rockaway, NY.

The show was originally titled "Half Ton Hospital" when it aired in Europe.
Yesterday, I watched 4 episodes of the American version,
"Inside Brookhaven Obesity Clinic"
on TLC.

These folks are referred to as "super morbidly obese".

Having weighed around 400 pounds at my heaviest,
I can truly empathize with these 500+ pound folks.
I can sympathize as well.
Some are suffering from disfiguring lymphedema.
Others have had multiple heart attacks.
Many have been bed ridden or house bound for years at a time.
Many cannot walk without a walker.
Most are confined to wheelchairs.
One man was so heavy they had to order a custom made wheelchair for him (costing the facility around $8,000).

This docu-reality show focuses on in-patients who reside at Brookhaven Rehabilitation Center in NY under the administration of director Dr. Robert T. Kolman. Kolman shows great compassion and determination to help people overcome what he calls "food addiction". He expresses his frustration with certain discharged patients who, after losing hundreds of pounds under Brookhaven's care, return a year or two later having gained it all back. Kolman desperately wants to discover the "missing piece" in the Brookhaven program that fails to prevent such recidivism.

Kolman is reasonable in his approach. He doesn't stop non-compliant patients from ordering delivery food (Chinese and pizza) though he did install cameras to film the offenders and confronts them with their behavior.

He acknowledges that we NEED FOOD to survive which makes overcoming food addiction especially troublesome.

The patients themselves admit that they are addicts who are literally eating themselves to death.

The program offers an in-house gym/physical therapy center, cooking classes, group support, therapy and recreation.

All in all it's a well-run program.
Except for one major component.

THE FOOD.

His patients are on 1200 or so calories a day of...
hospital food.
The grossest, most tasteless, blandest, dead, processed hospital food I've ever seen.
No wonder they cheat.

Robert, feed your patients.
Feed them whenever they get the urge to eat.
Give them crunchy, chewy, fresh fruits and vegetables.
Warn them that the first few weeks of detox off of junk food are the hardest and then SMOOOTHer sailing after that.

Feed them, feed them, feed them.
WHILE they're learning to find other ways to cope rather than stuff their faces, feed them tasty, nutritious foods.
Low fat whole wheat pizza with tons of veggies on top and low fat cheese (on no cheese).
Chinese food sauteed in fat free broth rather than oil.
Get them on brown rice instead of white.
Get some high fiber bread (at least 3g of fiber per slice) for them and make some tall sandwiches with lettuce, tomato, pepper, sprouts, spicy mustard and lean protein.

Can they have sugar free jello whenever they want?
Sugar free ice pops?
An apple?
Celery with fat free dressing?
Munchy crunchy good foods that quell the mouth hunger while they deal with the emotions that drove them to junk food in the first place?

Is there any "touch" therapy going on?
Massage?
Self-massage?

How about visualization?
Hypnosis?
Reconnecting the mind and body?

A note to the producers: stop calling Gastric Bypass Surgery a "quick fix" for patients who want "instant results". Believe me, it doesn't work that way.
Click here to see my video from 5 days after my RNY in August 2006.

Then try to tell me it's an easy, quick fix!

I can't believe that in this day and age with all we know about the failure of calorie restrictive diets we're seeing a clinic touted as the BEST in the world using such outdated, stick-a-leech-on-me, medieval methods for breaking food addiction.

Do some research and learn about the nutritional support necessary for breaking the addiction to white sugar, white flour, fried foods and processed junk. You have the brains. You have the compassion. Now improve your methods!

Warn the patients that they are PHYSICALLY addicted to junk food and that the initial detox is tough but temporary.

Dramatically increase the quality and liveliness of the foods you serve these people. Give them frequent snacks. Nourish them physically so they have the best chance of recovery.

Maybe they should hire me as a consultant :-)

"Inside Brookhaven Obesity Clinic" airs on TLC October 10th 2007 at 10:00pm.
Click here for a clip of the show on You Tube.


*Movement for the UnMotivated*
Did you see yesterday's Laughter Yoga video?
Use your diaphragm.
Laugh with your whole body.
Need something to laugh about or someone to laugh with you?
Check out this yoga master.
Laugh at him.
Laugh with him.
Just laugh!
Click here.

Today's Blood Sugar: 164

Click here to leave me a comment.

Wishing I was Amidala

Lisa on August 16th 2007 looking at Natalie Portman as Padme Amidala from Star Wars: The Phantom Menace.

"We understand that you want to be different from the way you are. We also know that, ironically, accepting yourself as you are is a prerequisite for changing."
~ Dr. Jane Hirshmann and Dr. Carol Munter in
Overcoming Overeating: At Last!
A Book to Help You Break Out of The Diet/Binge Cycle

You mean to tell me that I have to accept my sagging, flappy turkey neck as if it were OK?
I have to love my hanging jowls??
I'm supposed to accept the hanging bowling ball pannus and love it???

This IS hard.
Drs. Hirschmann and Munter say that "self-flagellation is a reflex action" and that "self-contempt does not lead to positive change."
They advise being compassionate and realistic.
Me?
Look in the mirror and be compassionate?
Yeah.
Hard.

Realistic is easy.
I'm used to calling myself FAT and hating the way I look.
But that's not what they mean by 'realistic'.
Compassionate realism is about accepting the 'now' in a calm, peaceful way.

No judgement.
No criticism.
Just acceptance.

I look at myself and immediately the negative, critical thoughts start churning.
Remembering the importance of what Hirschmann and Munter call "mirror work" I immediately launch my counter measures,
"It's ok, it's ok, it's ok, shh shh shh. Calm down. You're doing great. Breathe."

I want to change.
I want to be lighter, free, more mobile and tons more energetic.
I want to lift and correct the deflated, sagging body parts.
But first, I must accept.

Is it really the "too old" or "too fat" or "too saggy" that gets me down and jump starts the litany of criticism?
I look more deeply.

It's more about what-I've-done-to-myself that makes it hard to accept my reflection.
I ate an army's worth of food as an attempt at comfort and self-care.
I sat on my ass till my muscles atrophied.
I ignored my health and buried my symptoms under binge-induced numbness.
Me, no one else.
Me.
I lifted the fork to my mouth and shoveled in the food.
I ate till I was paralyzed by overconsumption.
I waited till it was urgent to begin the radical change that would save my life.
Me.

That's me in the mirror.
The body I see shows the effects of MY actions.

The eating right, the exercise, the blogging, the hard work at wellness are slowly transforming my body image, physically and psychologically.
But it takes time.
I didn't become morbidly obese overnight.
Getting well is a process.
I must learn to accept that.

It's a blessing to have to work through this and LOOK at myself.
Blessings aren't always pleasant.
This blessing reveals itself slowly.
Healing happens slowly. It paces itself.
That's appropriate.
With each stage of healing comes the strength to face what I've done and what I'm doing.
I stayed sick.
Now I'm getting well.
No judgment, just 'what is'.

It hurts.
Facing what I've done is painful.
It hurt while I was doing it to myself. At the time I was binge eating, neglecting my health and getting sicker and sicker I was in DENIAL.
I didn't avoid the pain of self-destruction once and for all I merely postponed it.
Avoiding doing the laundry doesn't make the laundry go away, it merely puts it off till some future time.
I put off my pain for a future time.
Maybe I thought I would DIE before it came time to face it.
Maybe I fooled myself that I WOULD put it off forever.

But I lived.
Now I am paying my karmic debt.
I acknowledge that I hurt myself.
I acknowledge that I was in pain and was trying desperately to cope.
I admit I hurt myself more by using food to cope with my uncomfortable emotions rather than face them head on.

Now I'm ready to face those emotions. Now I'm ready to take the consequences of what I did, face them head on and do the hard work of getting well. Me. Now.

I would like to go back to bed now.
That's NOT what I'm going to do.
I'm going to take myself to the Clifton Street Fair on Van Houten Ave and enjoy the September sunshine.
I don't FEEL like doing that, BUT...
once I get there I'll be glad I hauled myself off the sofa and out the front door.

I don't FEEL like doing the difficult mirror work.
I'd rather punish myself and use dieting and exercise as self-flagellation for letting myself get this fat and unfit.
Instead I'm going to struggle to love myself just the way I am, to talk nicely to myself, to pat myself on the back for small, daily successes and keep on getting fit.
Fit so I can make a difference in the world.
Fit so I can look in the mirror and say, "I take care of myself. I deserve to feel well."

It ain't easy.
It will get done.
No doubt about it.

*Movement for the UnMotivated*
Laugh, laugh laugh, even if you have to fake it!!
Laughter yoga...



Yesterday's Weight: 256
Today's blood sugar: 206

Leave me a comment!
Click here.

Options options everywhere

"It makes no sense to assume that the 80 million people
who are currently dieting are somehow deficient,
that they lack the discipline to achieve
something they care very much about achieving,
particularly when many of them succeed in their
pursuit of goals in other spheres of their lives.
Clearly there must be something inherent in
every diet that ensures its ultimate failure."
~ Jane R. Hirschmann and Carol H. Munter
in Overcoming Overeating

I blamed myself up until the last minute.
Right up until they put that oxygen mask over my face in the operating room I blamed myself for my lack of discipline.
I believed I would never be able to control my overeating without the gastric bypass.

But what if...

What if, for some reason, I was unable to have the bypass?
What would I have done?

I'm resourceful.
Better yet, I'm relentless.
I was hell bent on getting well.
I would have found a way.

I would have found the best in-patient eating disorder program and checked myself in.
I would have radically detoxed myself with internal cleansing.
I would have used hypnosis and self talk to overcome my overeating.

I would have bypassed the bypass.

Don't get me wrong, it's NICE to be rid of the demon.
My stomach was a demon, no doubt about it.
It growled and raged like an angry mob ready to lynch me if I didn't feed it.
The hunger was unbearable.
Both physiological hunger AND emotional hunger.
My stomach was always raging at me.
Without the bypass I STILL would have found a way to kill it.
I would have silenced the demon one way or another.

Right now it's growling a bit.
One year after the surgery and I'm actually feeling hungry again.
The difference is that NOW I'm not afraid to eat.
I'm not afraid that once I start eating I'll never stop.
I trust myself to eat well and to stop when I've had enough.
For the first time in my life enough IS enough.

In the beginning my goal was to lose weight.
And my deepest wish was to overcome my binge eating disorder.

I've done both.
And I'm still doing it.
Still losing weight, still wrestling with my ever-weakening demon.

I'm not doing it the conventional way.
I don't diet.
I don't count calories and
I don't restrict.

Does that mean I've made peace with chocolate cake by regarding it as one of many options available to me?
No.
I skipped that part of the demon wrestling.
The bypass bypassed my need to legalize food and regard chocolate cake as just one of many available choices.

I kinda cheated.
I surgically removed chocolate cake as an option.
It's not a choice for me any longer, unless I want to make myself uncomfortably ill.
The surgery makes the decision for me.
I feel like I should be suffering over the cake.
I should be doing the hard work of freely choosing cake or no cake.
I feel like I've brought a gun to the wrestling match and shot my opponent in the knee.

Really, I DID work hard at this.
I have to keep in mind that the surgery was difficult.
The detox afterward was harrowing.
(If you're new to my blog check out the video of me a few days after the surgery:
Click here).

I suffered.
I paid my dues.
Let's say I lumped my struggles, my wrestling, into 3 months of condensed misery so I wouldn't have to suffer in increments...lol.

I don't have to sit with my feelings when I'm agitated and ready to eat a pile of Devil Dogs washed down with chocolate milk. I'm FORCED to sit with my feelings and eat a stack of Wasa dipped in fat free sour cream and tamari instead. The mini-binge ends after a few minutes because the surgery says so. Nausea and the overly full feeling kick in before I can eat past full.

I don't cower under an avalanche of food to cover up my emotions. I get a light coating of snow at best. My feelings can still breathe.

That's where the Blogging kicks in.
Blogging is an outlet for expressing my unresolved feelings.

Working out is a great way to express my emotional energy too.
The gym is an outlet for anger, aggression, fear, sadness and unfocused mania.
No more pent up energy with a bulldozer's worth of food covering it up.
I sweat.
I pedal.
I move!

Through all this healing and formation of new habits the LAST thing I want to hear is how the post-op diet is the best way to lose weight and keep it off. The last thing I need to listen to is some pseudo 12 Stepper chirping,
"The program works if you work it!"

And if I don't work it??
Then I guess I'm lazy, undisciplined, out of control, willful, lacking the proper education or motivation and just plain wrong.

Bullsh*t!

While the post-op chirpers are preaching protein shakes and scheduled meals, thousands of post-op patients are experiencing unbreakable plateaus, dead-ends 50 pounds short of their ultimate goal, set backs, weight gain and desperation.
Thousands.
Thousands of people are right back where they started before the surgery.

We're told to look at the "success stories" of those super-humans who "stuck with the program" lost all their weight and kept it off.
The super-successes count calories, control their portions, eat at regular intervals and "stay on track."
They're the "good" ones.

If we don't duplicate their efforts exactly we're somehow deficient.
Or stubborn.
Or self-destructive.
Or undisciplined.
Or just plain bad.

Ha!
There's no way I'll accept that kind of thinking.

There are options.
There are always options.
Choices.
Different ways to reach the top of the same mountain.

We had this surgery because we ran out of options (or thought we had run out of options). We were desperate. We were unable to stick with an eating regimen or diet. We wanted something drastic, something radical. Diets didn't work for us. We opted for WLS.

Suddenly, our guts are surgically rearranged and we're supposed to be magically ready and able to stay on a diet?
Some of us are.
Some of us do.
Most of us aren't.
Most of us don't.
When we fail to reach our goal weight or we gain back what we've lost we slink away in shame because we "failed" at our last chance for health.
We weren't good enough.
We failed again and it's all our fault.

Don't believe that for a second.
Don't waste your thoughts on putting yourself down.

This surgery is not the last chance.
For me it was the eye opener to a new, better beginning.
Rather than cement me into a tyrannical deprivation regimen it opened me up to the freedom of choosing lovingly, smartly from the healthiest options available.
Healthy foods.
Healthy movement.
Healthy self-talk.
Healthy internal life.
Healthy expression.

And the options are still coming.

There are options out there that I don't even know about yet!
Ways to be well that are waiting to be discovered.

"There are love dogs no one knows the names of.
Give your life to be one of them."
~ Rumi

*Movement for the UnMotivated*
Ever see someone do push ups against a wall?
Not ready for that?
Try doing push ups against your desk while sitting at your desk or wheel your chair over to the wall and do pushups against the wall while sitting.
Work your upper arms!

Yesterday's Weight: 258
Today's Blood Sugar: 175

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No Advice, Just Story

Lisa at the Charleston Villa with Buddha, 2003.

Lisa at the Charleston Villa with Buddha, 2007.

I'm looking at these two pictures of me. I look much healthier in the bottom one. I'm smaller but still fat. I'm not getting too bent out of shape over it. My appearance matters to me, but energy level matters more.

What good is being leaner and more toned if I feel like crap much of the time?
I want to be able to take my new body out for a spin without worrying about running out of energy.

I'm a tired grouchy bastard today.
I'm recovering from an infection (sore throat).
I'm having a heavy period (anemia doesn't help).
And my lunch was unsatisfying.

BUT
I advocated for myself.
I did a good thing for me.

The Turkish restaurant was phenomenal! Beautifully appointed with artifacts and artwork from Turkey. Fabulous homemade tasting food in an exotic atmosphere with friendly, fast service for the lunch crowd. Toros in Clifton has 3 courses for $9.99 a person. No lie.

My problem?
The food is too rich for me.
The soup must have had some olive oil in it.
The labneh (yogurt with walnuts and spices) was NOT low fat.
My chicken kabob was a bit too "moist".
I felt sick halfway through my meal.

My mother LOVES the food. She suggested we come back every week.
I spoke up.
I told her that I was sorry she was getting tired of our favorite Chinese buffet but that I need to eat in a restaurant that offers foods I can tolerate.
My favorite Chinese buffet has brown rice, miso soup, hot and sour soup, tofu, sushi, salad, fresh fruit and a mini salad bar.
I LOVE my Chinese buffet.

My mother apologized for picking a restaurant that served food I couldn't tolerate.
She sympathized with my queasiness.
She said she'd rather eat at a place she was tired of than eat at a place that made me feel ill.

Sounds rather innocuous, right?
Ha!

This is a miraculous milestone for the Lisa/Mother relationship.
My speaking up.
Her showing appropriate empathy.
All without drama or angst.

I haven't just lost weight, I've gained a voice!

My deepest hope is to inspire that voice to come alive in as many people as possible.
It's time for the meek to inherit the earth.

BUT and here's a bad-onka donk for ya...
I don't want to give advice.

Not that I don't LIKE giving advice.
I'm a buttinksy meddler extraordinaire, believe me!

But when it comes to this stuff - gastric bypass, gastric banding, diet, exercise, overcoming overeating, weight loss and recovery - I want my STORY to stand as testimony to what I'm doing.

Sure I'm willing to do research.
Yes, I'm willing to develop a system.
Yes, I anticipate being a consultant and adviser, but not yet.

First I want to live my life in such a way as to provide evidence by which other people can make decisions about THEIR lives.

I know I have a lot to say about the post-op WLS crowd. I criticize their eating plans and protein shakes (and the corporate vultures who are ready to swoop down and profit from this new, growing demographic with their "helpful"products). I hear that the conventional post-op plan works for some people. I have no interest in convincing people to fix something that ain't broken.

What I do wish to provide is an account of my life as one who feels disillusioned by the current system.
I want my life to offer hope for those who are not recovering well using the current system.
I want people to know, concretely, evidently, that there are other GOOD options for them.

I am one of many options.
My life is an example of getting well and recovering in a way people are NOT talking about, especially for the post-op WLS folks like me.

Detox.
Transformation.
Whole foods.
Self-care.

I don't think I have THE answer but my answer is one that's pretty damn good.

Dont' take my word for it.
I'll live it for you.


*Movement for the UnMotivated*
Walk after dinner.
Stroll outdoors while the crickets are still chirping.
Know where the park benches are.
Sit when you have to.
Then get up again and walk.

Yesterday's Weight: 255
Today's Blood Sugar: 165

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Today's post later

I did the dishes, fed the cats, checked my blood sugar reading, took my meds, made myself a nice big pot of coffee and now I only have 30 minutes to Blog before my mother comes to take me to lunch (Toro's Turkish, yum!)

I'll blog for real when I get back home.

Thanks for your patience :-)

It's the HARD that keeps you fat

"When control fails, frustration often boils over into violence.
This used to be called mortifying the flesh.
Fasting, and lashing oneself with whips was (and in some places still is) a spiritual practice aimed at driving out spiritual pollution.
The target is anyone with a body.
People of every size are encouraged to divide their bodies into
the good parts (muscles) and the bad part (fat)—and to try to destroy the bad parts."

~ Lynne Murray

from The Care and Feeding of Your New Obesity Epidemic

"'Getting Things Done' is not about formal 'power' or official 'rank'. It is ultimately about PASSION and IMAGINATION and PERSISTENCE."
~ Tom Peters, Re-Imagine!
Business Excellence in a Disruptive Age

I almost gave up the scale for good.
The reason I kept it?
To teach others that weight loss is not about a daily decline in the number of pounds measured on a mechanical device.
Weight fluctuates from day to day.
Sometimes up.
Sometimes down.

The idea that something we ate yesterday has much of anything to do with the number on the scale today is false.

Unless you're a binge eater like I was. Then it's true. A person CAN gain actual pounds in one day. The weight of the food sloshing around in the intestines. That amount of fat when those excess calories get stored away for use during the inevitable purge/famine that's sure to follow.

But those were extreme times.
I don't want to carry that eating-disordered thinking into my new healthier life.
And I certainly don't want to encourage that behavior in others.

I've been eating brown rice like it's going out of style.
Two days ago the scale read 260.
What if I had panicked?
I might have convinced myself that increasing my carb intake had something to do with the number on the scale.
What a tragedy that would have been.

Over the summer I made that mistake.
I convinced myself that high protein really DOES make the weight come off more easily.
(Click here to read July 11th's blog post.)

"In a world where...confusion reins...where we must...Experiment Our Way into the Future...the Only Way Forward is to...Court and Reward Excellent Failures. NO BULL"

~ Tom Peters, Re-Imagine!
Business Excellence in a Disruptive Age

I'm flexible.
I'm willing to learn from my mistakes.

When I'm wrong I'll say I'm wrong.

I'm not going to do the high protein thing or eat-my-protein-first thing any longer because a) it's not a permanent solution to weight loss; b) it's not a permanent way to eat for life; c) I feel I'd be setting a bad example for others.

I'm a girl who wants to WALK THE TALK (thanks Ed Agresta!)

I BELIEVE that whole grains are a, if not THE, staple food of a healthy diet.
"Diet" as in What We Eat For Life not "diet" as in weight-loss-plan.

If the scale wants to spike a bit because I've made a drastic change in my diet by increasing my whole grain intake, so what?
I refuse to panic and go clamoring back to planned-meals-with-protein-first.
Let my body adjust.
I'll be one step closer to doing the I-told-you-so dance!

I have to be the voice of heresy.
The voice of reason when it comes to WLS (Weight Loss Surgery) seems to be preaching a course of action that carries a low success rate.
If eating planned-meals-with-protein-first had a high success rate we wouldn't have an obesity "epidemic" in the is country nor would we have failed weight loss surgeries where folks gain back the weight despite having their guts surgically rearranged.

As Lynn points out, we mistakenly confuse "control" for virtue.
I'm not innocent. I do it all the time.

One of my favorite film clips to show in class is from "A League of Their Own"
where Tom Hanks' character says to Gina Davis' character,

"It's supposed to be hard. If it wasn't hard,
everyone would do it.
The hard... is what makes it great."

Although I LOVE that sentiment, I don't want to take it to mean that EVERYTHING that's good and worth doing has to be hard. Being healthy, getting healthy doesn't HAVE to be an only-for-a-few game.

When it comes to getting healthy we're not talking about baseball.
Getting healthy is not a competitive sport that seeks to separate the wheat from the chaff.
Losing weight, getting fit, gaining strength shouldn't be THAT hard!

It doesn't have to be.
Our bodies are designed for health.
We just need to get out of our own way.

Dieting is a major stumbling block to good, vibrant health.
If you're dedicating too much energy to counting calories, obsessing over the scale, mulling over carbs and protein and labeling your day as "good" or "bad" depending on what you've eaten, then you're not allowing your body to work the way it's designed to work.

I'm learning.

I look at fat grams on labels because I get sick to my stomach from anything with more than 2 grams of fat per serving. I look at ingredients on labels to make sure it's a short list. Mostly, I intuit what counts as good quality food.

Soon I won't have to read labels much at all.
I'll just know.

Exercise?
Yeah, it's a bit of an effort.
BUT and who doesn't love a big BUT
it's LESS of an effort than it was back in January when I started this 6 day a week workout commitment.
My gym-going is more of a habit than a chore.
For the most part I look forward to the gym.

Yesterday on the stationary bike I popped it up to level 5 (like pedalling up hill or in high gear)
then rode while I did scratch off Lottery tickets, the crossword puzzle ones (the Quick Check was out of the Bingo ones). Then I read a few pages of Susan Powter's "Food" while the time flew by. I had fun.

Today I woke up to a nice simmering pot of brown rice with spinach, cauliflower, broccoli and sauerkraut in tomato broth. Inexpensive ingredients. Delicious flavor (I'm on a sour kick for some reason. I'll actually ADD vinegar to hot and sour soup to make it more sour). Low fat, high fiber, super nutritious. Who says you can't eat soup for breakfast?
Who says eating well has to be expensive or difficult?

Not me.

If it were easy, everyone would do it?
It is easy.
And...
everybody should.

*Movement for the UnMotivated*
Stationary bikes aren't all that expensive. Check out the used ones on Ebay.
Get one.
Put it in front of your TV.
Ride and watch.
Time will fly!

Yesterday's Weight: 255
Today's Blood Sugar: 155

P.S. Darren DID blog about the woman who played with an injured arm.
Click here for the story.

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Better than a Bypass

This is the view from where I sit on my living room sofa. I'm watching 'I Love the 70's' and playing fetch with Bosie (aka Doctor Acky Ack-u-la Who Dresses Up Like Dracula!)

I didn't feel well yesterday.
I'm not feeling that great today.
My throat hurts.
My tonsils look like two fat figs.
Good thing I had a round of anti-biotics in my medicine cabinet left over from last year's surgery.

I slept yesterday.
It was a perfect, warm rainy day. Great for merciful sleep.
I woke up in the early evening.
Ate a handful of raisins and plopped on the sofa.
I was mopey.
Lethargic.
Sick-ish.

I didn't want to go to the gym.
I just wasn't up to it.
Eh, I figured I'd let that be the day I don't work out for the week.
No biggie.

Then Darren called.
He told me a story about a champion.
A star player on a Women's Basketball team who played even when she was injured.
She had her right arm in a sling and taped to her body to protect it.
She's right handed.
She played anyway.
She scored an amazing number of points shooting lefty the whole game.
She had never played left-handed before.

Wow!
I was impressed.
(Not impressed enough to remember the woman's name...lol. But Darren will blog about her, I'm sure.)

If SHE could do it...
what was I doing feeling sorry for myself lying on my sofa?

Still, I had my one day a week off card to play.
I didn't HAVE to go to the gym.

Darren asked if I was going to the gym.
I said I wasn't sure. I felt a little bit dizzy.
He said that he had a low grade fever once. He said he went to the gym and perspired which made him feel a bit better.

I still wasn't sure.
So, I asked him.
"Which do you think I'll choose? Will I go back to bed or go to the gym?"

He said, "You're gonna go back to bed."
He was only half kidding.

"Some motivator YOU are,"
I laughed and told him I'd let him know what I chose to do.

It bothered me.
I didn't like the sound of 'you're going back to bed'.
That was the old me.
The old me was a bed-goer.
The old me took it easy on myself in a misdirected attempt at self-care.
The old me hated to move.

I assessed.
I could swallow without THAT much discomfort.
I didn't feel terribly feverish.
Gym.
I had to go to the gym.
No.
I WANTED to go to the gym.

Time to put on my shorts and t-shirt and get out the front door.
My game of fetch with Bosie (aka Bozee Ro the Bo Ro of BoRonia)
was postponed till later.

I was riding the stationary bike at 8:00pm.
It didn't matter that it was late in the day.
It only mattered that I was doing the right thing.

Doing the right thing is better than a bypass any time of any day.

*Movement for the UnMotivated*
Don't clean or change the sheets on your bed because you feel like you have to.
Do it because of how good YOU will feel after you've done it.
Do it because it makes YOU feel good.
Doing it feels better than not doing it.
For real.

Yesterday's Weight: 260
Today's Blood Sugar: 206

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Dieting is the Root of All Fatness

A special thanks to my brilliant reader,
Mini-Me, for coining that phrase!

"...recommending a futile course of action starts to make sense when you realize that the goal is not weight loss but punishment of the body. Being fat is seen as a visible evidence of sin...
The underlying (false!) belief is that greed and laziness are at the root of all fatness...
Western culture has long nurtured a mistrust of the body and an urgent need to control physical desires for fear of being overwhelmed by them. That's why "Control" is such a magic word when it comes to anything related to our bodies."

~ Lynne Murray
from The Care and Feeding of Your New Obesity Epidemic

Ok, so call me out of control.
While you're at it, add this phrase to your jeer menu:

WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS?

Then order up a side dish of:

HOW DARE SHE!

And I'll be more than happy.
The last thing you'll catch me doing is towing the line for the current standard of post-op care for WLS (Weight Loss Surgery). Too many people are failing. Too many people are gaining back their weight.

We've been TOLD that protein-shakes, portion control and good old fashioned calorie restriction are the NEW eating habits that we must maintain for life if we are to lose weight and keep it off permanently.

So, in other words, the same behaviors that made me fat in the first place are suddenly going to work now that I've had my guts surgically rearranged.

Hey, I consider myself a smart woman.
Yet, I bought that bill o' goods.
I bought it big time.

I towed the party line.
I ate 3 meals and 2 snacks per day whether I was hungry or not.
It made me sick.

The protein shakes made me gag.
Pea soup made me ill.
Cottage cheese nauseated me.
Toast gave me heartburn.
Pasta made me queasy.
Broiled chicken gagged me.

I couldn't find foods that I could tolerate.
So I suffered.
I ate teeny tiny elf portions of foods that I knew I would really enjoy.
Then I'd suffer the consequences.
They made me sick.

No wonder I was depressed.
No wonder I felt weak.

But nature blessedly interrupted what could have been my downward spiral to permanent nausea.

Here's what happened:
I have video footage of me, a few days after my gastric bypass last year. I'm sitting (I still needed to sit in order to do dishes and cook) at my stove cooking up a nice big vat of one of my (former) favorite foods: tuna pasta salad made with Hellmann's mayo.

Dear God I want to puke just thinking about it. But remember, everything made me feel sick so I didn't know what else to do but try to eat foods I thought were my favorites.

I sat there cooking up my high fat, high carb, high protein, high calorie, low fiber slop.
I said to the camera, "I can only eat a few forkfuls so I guess they should be foods that I really, really love!"

Of course I could only tolerate a few forkfuls.
Low quality, dead, super high fat food?
Who was I kidding?
(Remember, no one was suggesting I try eating some steamed or raw veggies. No one suggested that I eat fresh fruit.)

After a few forkfuls I was so nauseated I had to lie down on the sofa and suffer for 45 minutes until the offending food passed through my stomach to my newly arranged intestines.

I'd lie there, enjoying the sweet relief as the nauseating food eventually digested its way through my new stomach. As the nausea abated I also enjoyed my newly acquired aversion to one of my favorite foods.
Then another.
And another.

Soon all cheeses were off my "can eat" list.
Eggs.
Oils.
Butter.
Mayo.
Margarine.
Diet desserts (Smart Ones, Snackwells and other processed crap cakes).
Diet foods in general.
Chips.
Cereals with 2g of fat or more per serving.
Crackers.
Pretzels.
Red meat.
Cold cuts (except turkey).
Protein shakes.

Bye-bye they all went.
One by one I eliminated them from my diet because they made me feel sick.

I still can't tolerate them.
I still don't want them.

Whenever I ate and felt nauseated I THOUGHT I was experiencing satiety. I figured that the nausea was signaling that my pouch (I hate that word. What am I a kangaroo??) was full and that eating should stop. I'd eat a few forkfuls and I'd be "full".

Fact is, I'd eat a few forkfuls and I'd be sick to my stomach.

I THOUGHT the pouch (I'm not a marsupial, people!) was limiting the quantity of food intake.
I thought the nausea was in response to the amount of food I was eating.
But something much more meaningful was happening.

My dream was coming true.
My wish to eat and LIKE whole, fresh, raw, high quality foods was becoming, not just a reality, but a necessity.

I couldn't tolerate the protein shakes they recommended.
I couldn't eat the foods (frozen diet dinners, 100 calorie elf sized cookie portions, Weight Watchers-type meal replacement bars and snacks and other assorted processed garbage)
that were suggested to me for my post-op life.

So, nature found a way...

Dialog from Jurassic Park

Dr. Ian MALCOLM:
John, the kind of control you're attempting is not
possible.  If there's one thing the history of evolution
has taught us, it's that life will not be contained.
Life breaks free.  It expands to new territories.  It
crashes through barriers.

Dr. Wu:
You're implying that a group composed entirely of
females will breed?

Dr. Ian MALCOLM:
I'm simply saying that life finds a way.

Dr. ELLIE Sattler:
"You can't control anything."  I agree with that.  I
like that. I find it terrifying.  Life will always
find a way.

Dr. Ian MALCOLM:
That's right.  Will break through.

*************************************************

Nature found a way.
My desire to live took over.
My will to be well overruled the constraints of an anti-life, pro-weight-gain, set-up-for-failure diet mentality.

Healthy foods were the only foods I could tolerate.
'Healthy' as in raw, whole closest to nature as possible.
Low fat because I cannot tolerate fats.
High fiber because high quality foods tend to be high fiber as well.

For a while, a long while, I force-fed myself protein because that's what EVERYONE was telling me to do.

They must be right, I thought. When I tried to increase my carb intake a few weeks ago, the scale went up.
I panicked and cut down on the carbs.
(Did I mention that the carbs in question were coming from WHITE RICE??)

It was only recently that I became fed up AGAIN with the high protein dogma and did a little experimenting.
I increased my intake of carbs but this time in the form of BROWN RICE.
Big difference.

See, nature found a way.

Brown rice is a new staple in my eating.
The weight is coming off.
I feel more energetic.
I feel more connected to my body's needs.
I feel like I'm learning to trust MY instincts and to shut out the voices of contradiction, confusion, control and the old ways that led me to failure in the past.

HOW DARE SHE!
WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS??

I'm the girl who will never diet again and
I'll never be fat again once the weight comes off.

My body says so.

*Movement for the UnMotivated*
I took a power walk. I rested on a park bench and did stretching exercise with my arms and legs.
Then I walked again.
Then I sat again and stretched.
I moved for 25 minutes alternating brisk walking and sitting while stretching.
Then I enjoyed posing for pics in front of a garden of sunflowers.

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Calorie Shmall-o-ree

"Rules for Radicals...The message: Getting Things Done that Fly in the Face of Conventional Wisdom is a Matter of Energetic and Persistent Community Organizing, a Matter of Unearthing and Engaging Passionate Others (who previously viewed themselves
as ... yes... "powerless").
~ Tom Peters, Re-Imagine!
Business Excellence in a Disruptive Age

Yes, even radicals have rules. At least they do according to the great Tom Peters.

Fly in the Face of Conventional Wisdom??
You bet.

When it comes to getting fit and healthy, inside and out, we need something radical.
The old ways JUST DON'T WORK.

The days of counting calories are over.

Look, I'm not an expert on exercise science (yet).
I'm not a physician.
I've never taken an anatomy class.

AND

I have a body.
I have a brain.
I trust my experience.
I'm LEARNING to trust my instincts.

It ain't just me.
Experts agree.... DIET'S DON'T WORK.

But, as I said, I'm not an expert.
I've never studied metabolism in the classroom.
Don't know nothin' bout calories as units of energy.

And yet...
I have LOTS to say on the topic.
Lots.

Guess what??

I drive a car, but I'm not a mechanic.
I've been driving for 22 years.
No points on my license.
No moving violations in the past 15 years.

But I couldn't tell you much of what happens under the hood of my car.

I DO know that
the car No Go when I don't put gas in it.
The car likes to get it's oil changed every couple of months.
Tires need to be changed periodically.
My car is 14 years old and still running fine.

As a driver I do alright.
The car does what it's supposed to do.

My body?
The more advice I took from so-called experts the more sick and fat I became.
Dieting never worked for me.
I lost weight but,
I always gained it back.

The popular wisdom (stupidity is popular) is that diets WOULD work if only we had enough will power to stick to them.

Cutting calories leads to weight loss
no ifs ands or buts, right?

If that's your philosophy, why are you reading this?
If that's what you're convinced of then via con Dios.

I have little desire to argue with you.
I have little energy to try to convince you of anything.

I'm speaking to the people who are

FED

UP!

I'm here for the people who are disillusioned, disenfranchised, pissed off, disgusted, tired and sick of obsessing about every morsel they put into their mouths.

An "expert" might say I 'm burning more calories than I take in and THAT'S why I'm losing weight.
Sure.
I won't argue with that.
I can't.
I'm not an expert in that arena.

I'm
ALL ABOUT METHOD.

I just refuse to spend any more time counting calories.

Counting those mysterious calories is NOT the best method for my cutting back on them (if indeed cutting back is what I'm doing. I wouldn't know. I refuse to count calories. Have I mentioned that?).

In my experience, forming a healthy relationship with ourselves leads to healthy self-care.
Feeding the body.
Feeding the body, mind and spirit as-soon-as hunger happens.

My body learns to trust me.
My body knows that I'll feed it when it needs something.
No tricks.
No deprivation.
No overconsuming of water so I "feel full".
No elf portions.
No long periods of time in starvation.

Here's MY evidence that this works.

Me.
My body.
My weight loss.
My success.
My car that gets me places reliably.

Let me be the guinea pig on this one.

I blog every day.
Follow my progress.

If I'm wrong, I'll say I'm wrong.

But if I'm right....
I'll be doing the told-you-so dance.
(Ok, that was SUCH the 'Will and Grace' reference. See video at the end of this blog.)

I'm tired of being lied to.
I'm tired of being told what to do by folks who want to shrink-me-at-all-costs.
I'm tired of manipulating my body so that a multi-billion dollar diet industry can profit off my suffering and failure.

I'm tired of calorie-obsessed people forcing me into eating-disordered thinking.

That goes double for those corporations that wish to exploit the new weight loss surgery demographic with their protein supplements and lets-keep-you-fat shakes.

Sure.
If we get Lean Strong and Healthy (thank you Susan Powter!) * we won't need them any longer.
We won't be desperate and amenable to coercion.
We won't be so hungry and still-fat that we'll throw money at any wacky idea just to help us get over our so called 'addiction.'

Listen.
I had an eating disorder.
I am still recovering from a severe binge eating disorder.
I understand in a way that even most experts CAN'T.
They haven't been where I've been.

Eating regularly scheduled meals is not for me.
It's too restrictive.
It's counter to my body's instincts.
It's diet-mentality.
It's a restrictive mechanism that has failed me time and time again.

I won't do it.
I won't call it "good" either.

Like I said, if you believe in the old ways?
Via Con Dios.

I'll be looking forward to doing the told-ya-so dance.



*Movement for the UnMotivated*
Do the told-ya-so dance.
Do it with your arms.
Do it with your legs.
Wiggle your behind.
Move in spite of everyone's wrong opinions about you.
You have it in you to be well.
Get everyone out of your way!!

Yesterday's Weight: 256

* For the inventress of "Lean Strong and Healthy" visit:
SusanPowtershow.com

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Be strong and you will be renewed. Identify.

Lisa and Matt at Angel Oak in Charleston, South Carolina 2007.

Lisa & Pat at Angel Oak in Charleston, S C 2003.

Someone else noticed!
I'm not the only one who sees it.
People are waking up.
My faith in the power of truth (my version of truth) has been renewed!

Renew!
Renew!

Sorry.
Sci-fi references run through my head the way self-conscious asides run throughout Zach Braff's mind in Scrubs.

Why has my faith been renewed?

I'm not the only one who noticed.
I'm not the only one who discovered through EXPERIENCE that the post-op eating plan for gastric bypass patients fails to provide the nutritional support that leads to permanent weight loss.

Yep.
Other people are noticing and TALKING ABOUT IT!

What a lovely Sunday morning surprise!

I am reprinting a segment of a post from a Post Op Gastric Bypass support group:

" Welcome to the Weight Regain Club. I think most of us are members of
that club. It took me 6 years, but I finally joined it too. There are
several OSSG egroups that are devoted to how to try to avoid weight
regain. If you were taking 65 mg a day of protein supplements, you were taking 65 a day too many. Unless you had a distal RNY or a BPD/DS, the
only time protein supplements can be remotely beneficial are the first
two or three post op months. They do not do you a bit of good after
that. Dump them and you will be part of the way there to deal with the
weight regain problem. There is no Magic Bullet to deal with weight
regain. In virtually every case, it comes from poor food choices."

Hallelujah!

Thank you, God.
Thank you, universe.
Thank you, karma.
Thank you brave person who wrote that post.

It's time for some major heresy.
Time to take down the deprivation tyrants and take our lives back.

I read on a post-op diet website that gastric bypass patients should consume foods that have the most nutritional density for the amount of calories.
More nutritional bang for the buck so to speak.

I agree.

But.... I never see any mention of spirulina, wheat grass juice, macrobiotics, raw foods, whole grains or any of the truly (nature's version) nutritionally dense foods!

Back in my eating days when I weighed close to 400 pounds I used to fantasize about Madonna.
No, not the Holy Mother, the pop singer.
Rocco's and Lourdes' holy mother.

I was envious of her daily discipline.
Her running in Central Park with her body guards.
Her gym habits.
Her energy.

I read in an article, wayyyy back in the 80's, that she wakes up every morning full of excitement and starts jumping up and down on her bed like a little kid.

Ok, now, at 50, she does Ashanta Yoga, but still.
She's moving!

I read about her fancy (super high quality and probably prepared by he own personal chef) macrobiotic diet.

"That's my goal," I would say as I patted my overfull stomach filled with the worst foods imaginable, "to eat like Madonna. To be HAPPY eating brown rice, vegetables, fish and to avoid processed crap, dairy, meats and caffeine."

It wasn't just the diet that I wanted.
I wanted to be HAPPY being on that kind of diet.

I made my wish come true.
I've eliminated most processed crap from my lifestyle.
Slowly but surely I'm eliminating the meats, dairy, and caffeine by cutting back in increments.

My head is clearing up.
My memory is getting sharper.
I wake up happy to be alive.
I'm more able to MOVE
and the weight is coming off.

I LIKE the foods I eat!

Do I have a long way to go?
Sure.

I need to cut out artificial sweeteners.
I could cut back on the coffee.

Energy-wise I need improving.
My house is messy.
I have piles of dirty laundry to do.
Bills and paperwork to handle.
Ebay stuff to sell.

But I've improved over the past year.
My apartment, my lifestyle, my overall health is way, way better than it was last year at this time.

I feel like I'm PAST the halfway mark.
Hacking my way up the icy mountain.
Hurling the ice pick over my head and chunking it into the mountainside above me.
Shards of ice pelting me in the face, raining down on me with every heave of the ice pick.

And LOOK!
Other climbers.
Climbers like me hurling, hacking and fighting to reach that summit in triumph.

Truth is like a sharpened ice pick.
More efficient.
More piercing.
More stable than the half-truths that leave people desperate for a way to be healthy, to keep the weight off, to conquer the cravings, to beat disordered eating once and for all.

I imagine a life free from obsessing about food, calories, and body image.
I imagine using my energy for something GOOD and productive.
Creativity to make the world better rather than wasting my life obsessing and starving myself to please a corrupt weight loss industry.

I'd rather deal with people who think more of me and more of themselves than continue to feel like I'm an out of control addict who needs to diet obsessively for the rest of my life.

Renew!!
Renew!!

Logan: NO! Don't go in there! You don't have to die! No one has to die at 30! You could live! LIVE! Live, and grow old! I've seen it! She's seen it!
[Shows the crystal on his palm]
Logan: Well, look! LOOK! LOOK, IT'S CLEAR!
[Crowd laughs]
Jessica: We've been outside! There's another world outside! We've seen it!



*Movement for the UnMotivated*
If you dread exercise you're doing it wrong.
Move in a way that feels good.
Oxygen feels good.
Breathing deeply feels good.
Find a way to move that makes you want to keep on moving!

Got a Question for Lisa?
Click here.

Got a Comment about this post?
Click here.

October Playboy

Am I in it???

Hal Niedviecki, pop culture guru, has written an article on Blogging and Reality shows for this issue of Playboy. He interviewed me for over an hour as part of his research for the article! Did he use any of my interview? Did he mention my Blog??

.
.
.

UPDATE: No. Hal's article does not appear in the October Playboy.
I've sent him an email and hope he gets back to me with an update.
Ah well.

My greatest fear was NOT that he'd say anything negative about me, but rather that the article would not actually end up in the magazine.

I hope my fears are unfounded.
.
.
.

Portion Contortion

I don't know what the failure rate is, but I see plenty of evidence that gastric bypass is not a permanent solution for many who are morbidly obese.

On the post-op discussion forums I see posts titled:
"HELP I'm gaining weight!"
or
"Out of control please help!"
or
"I can's stop eating!"

And
now,
I'm pissed.

I'm furious.

I'm screaming, hoppin' mad.

We've been lied to.
Manipulated to lose weight no matter what the cost to our overall health then left flapping in the wind when we ultimately fail at the post-op diet.

I've heard the promises from the pro-WLS crowd and the experts.
We're told that we can use gastric bypass as a tool to change our eating habits.
We're told we can use gastric bypass to learn portion control.

We're told to load up on protein and calcium supplements because "we don't absorb those nutrients as easily after bypass."
We're told to eat 3 small meals and 3 small snacks at specific times during the day whether we're hungry or not and whether or not we actually WANT what's on the scheduled menu.

We're told to always eat our protein first.
We're encouraged to drink a kidney-crippling amount of protein shakes.

Small, elfin portions.
Chew your teeny tiny portions of food.
Never eat a meal for over 30 minutes at a sitting.

Blah blah
bladdy
blah blah.

Now I have to do a little dance while I say this next part...

jiggle
shimmy
twist
shake
dance
as I say

Well.....FuuuuuuuuuuuCK YOU!

Ah.
Sniff.
I feel so much better now.

One more asshole gets in my face with the term "portion control" and I'm gonna have to start choking people.

As if without portion control my portions would be out of control!

I asked a good question.
What if...
I do eat slowly.
I chew my food.
I eat my teeny tiny portion of food (one diet actually said to eat 1/4 cup of green beans as a side dish as if that counted as more than a mouthful for anyone!) and stretch it out over 20 minutes
chewing
chewing
chewing
all the way.

What if I eat my diet meal and I'm not sated???

Wanna know what I was told?
I was told to
DRINK A NICE BIG GLASS OF WATER.

You know, to trick my body into thinking it's full.

Or someone will ask about my protein consumption
"Did you drink a protein shake BEFORE your meal?"

No.
Who the hell drinks protein shakes before a meal unless they're convinced that it will
"make you feel fuller faster."
Again, implying that I should be tricking my body.

High protein low carb diets are BETTER for weight loss, they tell me.

No matter how dangerous an unbalanced high protein diet is.
No matter how much calcium is leached from our bones to process all that excess protein.

Dangers of too much protein:
"Gail Butterfield, PhD, RD, director of Nutrition Studies at the Palo Alto Veterans' Administration Medical Center and nutrition lecturer at Stanford University....(says) think twice when you consider sacrificing the carbohydrates for a protein-dominant diet. Drastically cutting carbohydrates from your diet may force your body to fight back...

She says that's because a diet in which protein makes up more than 30% of your caloric intake causes a buildup of toxic ketones. So-called ketogenic diets can thrust your kidneys into overdrive in order to flush these ketones from your body. As your kidneys rid your body of these toxic ketones, you can lose a significant amount of water, which puts you at risk of dehydration, particularly if you exercise heavily.

That water loss often shows up on the scale as weight loss. But along with losing water, you lose muscle mass and bone calcium. The dehydration also strains your kidneys and puts stress on your heart." (click here for article)

That's why the experts on gastric bypass (and other assorted know-it-alls) tell us we need to take our calcium supplements.
First they load us up with too much protein, then they make us replace our bone calcium with supplements.

Why?
Cuz even the potential dangers of the too-high protein diet pointed out by Dr. Butterfield are better than the dangers of being morbidly obese.

Anything is better than being fat.

So we follow our high protein diets like good little soldiers.
We lose weight and then
THE BODY FIGHTS BACK.

If it's dangerous and nutritionally unbalanced then why do we get the high-protein recommendation from our post-op experts?

"...chicken, beef, fish, beans, or other high-protein foods slow the movement of food from the stomach to the intestine. Slower stomach emptying means you feel full for longer and get hungrier later.
Second, protein's gentle, steady effect on blood sugar avoids the quick, steep rise in blood sugar and just as quick hunger-bell-ringing fall that occurs after eating a rapidly digested carbohydrate, like white bread or baked potato.
Third, the body uses more energy to digest protein than it does to digest fat or carbohydrate."
(click here for article)

Again, anything to shrink us, even if it's not a long term solution.

And what about folks who lose so much weight at first on these high protein plans?

"...trials show that high-protein, low-carbohydrate diets may work more quickly than low-fat diets, at least in the first six months. After a year or so, though, weight loss is about equal...." (Halton TL, Hu FB. The effects of high protein diets on thermogenesis, satiety and weight loss: a critical review. J Am Coll Nutr 2004; 23:373-85.)

So, we overload on protein.
Cut back drastically on caloric intake
and then the body fights back.

The body craves balance.
The calorie-starved body craves sustenance.
What follows?
Hunger.
Binge-ing
Compensation for starvation.
The body holding onto fat because it believes it's living in famine.
(Or we become weak and emaciated which, again, is regarded as better than being morbidly obese).

After my surgery?
No one taught me knew eating habits.
They gave some lip service to making sure our calories were nutritionally dense but the terms 'raw foods' or 'whole grains' or 'fresh produce' or 'wheat grass juice' or 'buy a juicer'
NEVER CROSSED THEIR LIPS.

The dietitians annoyed me with lists of calcium supplements and protein mixes.
They gave me the standard ADA diet plan to follow.
They warned me about drinking and eating at the same time because it might stretch my pouch.

Of course they're not to blame.
The following makes sense...
"http://www.healthandfinesse.com/gastric-diet.html"
BUT,
and I still got one,
is that they recommend high protein primarily for the first 6 weeks post op
AND
when they talk about carbs they don't differentiate between white rice and brown rice
or whole grains and boxed mashed potatoes.

Research like that leads the post-op experts to their protein-first conclusions.

My dietitian insisted I eat protein first at every meal.

You know what I put in my mouth first thing this morning?
Fruit.
Freshly cut fruit.

After that?
An oat bran bagel.

Then?
Some lean sliced turkey breast.

Intermittently sipped a V8.

As I typed this I ate another heaping helping of fresh fruit.

Why?
That's what I wanted at the moment.

"Ok, Lisa. Fine.
But what if you wanted a bag of marshmallows?
Would you eat that too?"

Um...no.
Why the hell would I crave a bag of marshmallows?
I feed myself high quality foods.
I'm not starving therefore I don't crave highly caloric crap!

The detox helped too.

You see, I got out of my body's way.
When I involuntarily detoxed after the bypass I changed my body.
My taste buds changed.
My cravings changed.
My interest in certain foods changed.

The changes were mental AND physical.
Trick MY body???

Oh, I don't think so.

TRUST my body??
Yeah, that's more like it.

Treat my body, mind and soul with dignity NOT
trickery?
You bet!

Stop treating myself like an out of control addict and start trusting myself to care for my needs with love, justice and quality?
Oh, yes.
Quality food.
Quality thoughts.
Quality life.

I feel so good when I eat brown rice.
I feel so wonderful when I eat fresh fruit.
I love that I eat Wasa instead of potato chips.
I'm thrilled when I reach for an apple AND I'M SATISFIED with it.

I eat when I'm hungry.
I eat till I'm full.
That's MY portion control.

Look out!

*Movement for the UnMotivated*
Get some sunshine on your face.
Breath in some heated air.
If the best you can do is walk out into the middle of the sidewalk in front of your house and take a nice deep breath, then do it.
I started there.
So can you.

Yesterday's Weight: 258
Today's blood sugar: 164

gastric bypass heretic

Bosie (aka Zeek the Zee) in the salad bowl!

I eat.
So sue me.

For breakfast I just ate about 2 1/2 or 3 cups of brown rice soaked in miso soup.
Here's what I do: I go to the Chinese buffet and use their take-out-by-the-pound service. I ask for the large, quart-sized soup container. I fill it 3 quarters of the way with plain brown rice (brown, not browned) then fill it the rest of the way with miso soup or hot and sour soup.
The soup soaks into the rice and makes it nice and soft and plump.

Then I eat most of it at one sitting.

To me, that's a perfect meal. High fiber, low fat, high protein, high nutritional value, filling.

And yet...
The gastric bypass "people" think I'm overeating.

If I told my practitioner what I was eating, he'd be concerned.
If I DARE to mention what I eat on a discussion forum, I get flack for "stretching my pouch" or told that I shouldn't be eating so many carbs.

Some will indicate that I'm burning off those calories when I exercise.
But I don't think one hour a day at the gym is enough to burn off the amount of calories I consume.

What I DO think is that one hour a day at the gym boosts my metabolism and builds my muscles so that I am burning fuel at a higher rate all day and night. I use the fuel efficiently throughout my day. I eat exactly what my body needs. My body, brilliant miracle that it is (all our bodies are if we let them be what they were designed to be) knows it is being fed. It knows it is not starving to death in a diet- imposed famine. It allows my metabolism to speed up, use the fuel I consume and burn off the excess fat.

I'm more energetic, more alert, more agile and mobile.
The weight is coming off steadily.

Hey, I didn't figure this out all on my own, brilliant people like Susan Powter, Renee Cloe, Carol Sorgen of WebMD, Bob Schwartz, Hirschmann & Munter, Dean Ornish, Andrew Weil, Kevin Trudeau, Kelly Brownell, Gary Null,
helped me to figure out that my own experience was valid.

Restricting my food intake never worked for me.
Counting calories never worked for me.
I would diet then gain it all back plus some.

My supposed 'weak will' had nothing to do with it.

I, like all people, was responding to calorie restriction by having a slowed metabolism and binge eating to compensate for starving myself.

I've been told that I'm a carbohydrate addict.
I've been told that I am a night eater.
I've been told that I'm a compulsive eater and a food addict.
I was told that I lacked self control.

The evidence was not in my favor.
I was morbidly obese and hungry all the time.

I was so convinced that I had no will power, that I had no power to change, that I was an addict, I convinced myself that the only way to get well was to have a gastric bypass.

See, I WAS overeating.
I had a severe binge eating disorder.
I exacerbated it with yo yo dieting.
Starve then binge.
Diet then overeat.
Fail at my diet then binge because I felt bad.

My stomach felt like it had a 2 gallon capacity.
I could eat A LOT of food.
Yes, two pizzas washed down with icy soda, for instance.
No lie.

I believed I HAD to cut my stomach if I was going to succeed.
At first, right after the surgery, I ate very little.
I was still experimenting with food.
Everything I ate made me queasy.

It was not till weeks later that I discovered that fats were making me nauseated. Processed foods made me queasy. The more natural (closest way to how the food came out of the ground, off of the tree, etc.) the food, the easier it was to digest. Brilliant and good advice for everyone regardless of their weight.

It also didn't take long for my pouch to stretch.
After gastric bypass the pouch should only hold about 4 oz. of food.
Mine holds more.

According to the gastric bypass people I am overeating.
Any other patient in my situation (with a stretched pouch) would be gaining weight.

So why am I losing?
Cuz I'm burning off the calories with exercise?
Partially true.

The KIND OF FOOD I eat has everything to do with how efficiently I burn it as fuel.
My 3 cups of miso soaked brown rice is such a GOOD food, wholesome, nutritious, clean, non-fat and fibrous. It can't HELP but be digested and burned efficiently throughout my day with my ever increasing metabolism boosted by daily aerobic exercise.

Tell this to the gastric bypass people?
They'll crucify me.

I'm not even supposed to be eating fiber!!

"Fiber, found in foods like bran, popcorn, raw vegetables, and dried beans, is also limited on the gastric bypass diet. There is less space in the stomach to hold these bulky foods, and less gastric acid available to digest them. Some kinds of fiber could get stuck in the pouch itself, or block the narrow opening into the small intestine. Do not take any fiber pills or laxatives without the advice of a physician."


Oh... uh... wow.
But I LIVE on that stuff!!

Portion control?
Here's what the Mayo Clinic has to say about post-op gastric bypass portions:

"Eat small amounts. Just after surgery, your stomach holds only about 1 ounce of food. Though your stomach stretches over time to hold more food, you won't be able to eat more than 1 to 1 1/2 cups of food with each meal. Eating too much food adds extra calories and can cause pain, nausea, vomiting and abdominal cramps. Make sure you eat only the recommended amounts and stop eating before you feel full."

Oh..uh..but...
I was hungry.
I ate when I was hungry.
I stopped when I was full.

I eat WAAAYYYY more than one ounce and much more than 1 1/2 cups.

The standard advice is:

"Keep in mind that your diet needs to be low fat, low calorie, and portion controlled for the rest of your life. This is the commitment you must make to achieve maximal weight loss."

Low fat, yes.
Low calorie? Not sure. I have NO IDEA how many calories I consume in a day.
Portion controlled? Not in any meaningful way, no. I stop eating when I'm sated.

So, why won't I follow the rules?
Because I'm recovering from an eating disorder.
I'm learning to take CARE of my needs emotionally and physically.
Deprivation is just as eating-disordered as over consuming.

I want to FEED my body instead of stuffing it or starving it.

I guess that makes me a heretic.


*Movement for the UnMotivated*
Who says you have to walk if your limbs and joints aren't ready for that kind of impact?
Put on an exercise video or an exercise show and do the routine sitting down.
Build your fitness level from where you're at.
Don't let other people push you in a way that makes you rebel by doing NOTHING rather than something.
Don't let the know it alls win.
You win by figuring out what works best for you and sticking to it.

Yesterday's Weight: 256
Today's Blood Sugar: 178

Smug in recovery

My black and white tuxedo cat, Jacob (20 yrs old)
and the kitten who fetches, Bosie (Bo-Zee-Zeeee the Bumble Beeee!)

I can see how people are seduced by sugar.
Over the past few days I've had 2, count 'em, TWO desserts.

At the Flop House Inn (The fabulous Jefferson Hotel in Richmond Virginia)
I ate half a piece of apple pie.
Not just any apple pie.
It was really incredible, orgasmically flavorful, wholesome, baseball in America, apple pie.

The kind of apple pie made with white flour, white sugar and real butter.
It took me 3 hours to eat half a slice.
I savored every bite.
It was so rich, I knew I could only tolerate about one bite every 15 minutes.
I didn't eat the ice cream. I let it melt to death.

Last night at the St. Andrew's carnival, I ate half a piece of homemade carrot cake with chopped walnuts and whole walnuts on top.
Mostly, I picked out the nuts and ate them, but still. Cake made it's way into my mouth.

Part of me wants to freak out about it.
Part of me thinks, "Who gives a crap? You're almost an athlete. Half a piece of cake doesn't matter."

But as a person recovering from a serious eating disorder, I'm concerned.

As a person who suffered and shivered and quaked for 3 months worth of detoxing after my gastric bypass, I'm concerned.

I think it's time for some humility.
This surgery is a tool.
Although I am self-reliant, I have a tool that helps me.

Yes, I've developed a strong will.
Yes, I've created discipline in my life.
Yes, I transformed my eating habits.

AND
I acknowledge this surgery as a helpmate.
A temporary tool.

Why temporary?
I'm only one year out from my surgery.
I may be able to tolerate entire pieces of cake and pie at some point in my future.
Then what will I do?

When the nausea fails to kick in to stop me from overeating, then it's all on me.

I've talked about beating my cravings for sugar by abstaining from refined sugar completely.
Work the junk out of your system, never crave again.

So, why did I crave pie and cake?

I have some suspicions.
I suspect that I haven't detoxed entirely.
I still use about 4 - 6 packets of artificial sweeteners per day.
Tea, coffee, diet drinks with Sweet and Low, Equal and the occasional Splenda.
Sugar free ice pops and jellos.
Sweeteners, even artificial ones, are chemically addictive.

My addiction to the sweet taste and the chemicals in the artificial sweeteners are still holding me hostage to refined sweet-ness.
Refined sweetness as opposed to natural sweetness.
Natural sweetness comes from grains, fruits and vegetables, NOT a pink, blue or yellow packet.
I need to remember that when I'm choosing food.

Although I'm grateful for my gastric bypass and all that it affords me, I don't want to rely on it too much. I can already tolerate a normal amount of food. For now I am unable to tolerate processed foods, excessive sugars and fats, but what happens when the honeymoon is over and I AM able to tolerate those foods??

I don't want to come across as a smug recovered person.
You know the kind.
The person who quits smoking and gets in your face about YOUR smoking.
The person who gets help from 12 Step then acts like it's the ONLY way to get well and tries to convince you that YOU need to be doing it too, or else.

Sometimes I FEEL like I come across as a smug-recoverer.
A smug in recovery.
I may come across as arrogant in having conquered my demons once and for all.

Demons are like those trick birthday candles. You THINK you've blown them out,
then they sparkle to life and spit ash all over your birthday cake.

If you leave them alone hoping they'll just fizzle out on their own, they stink up the room with black smoke and agitate you with hissing fire.
They beg to be extinguished.
EVENTUALLY they go out, but not without a lot of blowing.
Don't try to douse them by tossing water on them or you'll ruin your cake.
Laugh it off, ha ha a joke on me and blow.

Trick is to stay one step ahead of the hissing candle demons.

If I were HOME would I have craved cake and apple pie??
No.
At home I have plenty of the foods that satisfy me.
At home I have my fat free organic yogurt.
At home I have a bin full of apples.
At home I have Wasa, nuts, peppers, and air popped popcorn.

Maybe at the carnival I needed/wanted food that I could eat and in the absence of any edible Lisa-foods I chose food that wasn't of the highest quality: cake.

At a big commercial carnival I can usually find foods that I can tolerate and that are low or non fat and low or non sugar.
Last night's church carnival at St. Andrew's (it's on till Sunday if you live in the area) didn't have as many food options as I would have liked.
I had one chicken kabob.
No veggies on the skewer, just chicken. Veggies weren't offered.
Not complaining. It was Delicious.
Then I had some sauerkraut.
Yummy.

But after I ate I was still hungry.
The homemade carrot cake was the only thing close to wholesome and natural as I could get.

It could have been worse.
I did decline the serious junk foods.

I passed up the cotton candy.
I snubbed the carnival popcorn (have you heard the latest about Popcorn Lung???)
I poo-pooed the candy apples.
I declined the ice cream.
Said no thanks to the pizza.
Forget about the cheese steak and sausage and peppers.
Burgers, hot dogs, ziti, garlic bread, kielbasa and pirogies.... yukko.

What was left for me to eat?
Where was the salad? Nuts? Fresh fruit?
There wasn't even a hot pretzel in sight!

When I went to the kielbasa stand and asked for sauerkraut you would have thought I was asking for pickled herring guts. The church ladies looked confused by my request.
They looked at each other with Spock eyebrows and shrugged.
"What, no kielbasa?"
"No pirogies?"

No, just sauerkraut please.
They gave me a puny dollop of sauerkraut.
When I asked how much it cost they said not to worry about it.

Like what I ordered wasn't even actual food.

I should have spoken up.
I SHOULD have insisted on a nice big helping of sauerkraut.
I WANTED a nice big helping of sauerkraut.
I settled for a dollop.

Deprivation leads to binge-ing.

I had failed to advocate for my needs.
I failed to speak up about what I wanted.
I let them dismiss what I had chosen to eat by not charging me money for it.
As if my sauerkraut was not even a real food option unless it was accompanied by a fatty phallic kielbasa.

Ok, so far two theories, both valid.
I ate cake because I had a physical craving for sugar.
I ate cake because I had not eaten enough to sate me.

Most relevant is my third theory:
I ate cake because I chose to eat cake.

The other explanations are valid as INFLUENCES but the ultimate power lies with me and my ability to choose.

I chose cake.

Will I always choose cake?
Nah.

This morning
I just ate about 5 ounces of turkey dipped in mustard.
I had a nice mug of green tea with skim milk (and the evil sweet and low).

If someone put a warm piece of apple pie in front of me right now, would i eat it?
No.

I wouldn't eat it because I'm full from turkey.
I wouldn't eat it because I don't want to risk feeling nauseated on my first day of teaching this semester.
I wouldn't eat it because I choose not to.

The trick candle goes out.

For now.

*Movement for the UnMotivated*
Walking on pavement hurts my joints.
I like to walk at the gym.
I like to walk on the soft walking track at the park.
Don't be self-punishing about exercise.
Be comfortable so you can move without injuring yourself.
Exercise should hurt in a GOOD way not in an injurious way.

Yesterday's Weight: 256
Today's Blood Sugar: 208

Rebellious Discipline

Lisa on the fainting couch preparing to Blog while staying in historic Charleston.

It's not the most flattering picture of me. I'd been eating and drinking and traipsing about the Holy City. I'm kinda tired. I didn't FEEL like doing much of anything except fainting for a spell on the fainting couch designed especially for that purpose. But instead, I blogged.

Whoop dee doo.
Hooray for me.
Yawn.

Unless I inspire YOU to act differently than you feel, to keep your commitments to your self and to get well, all of this is a self indulgence (Not that I'm against self-indulgence! I just prefer that people GET something out of this.)

I know how hard it is to change.

I let my feelings stop me from doing things that I LOVE to do for years!

I let being SICK and in PAIN deprive me of the joys of living a full life.

I allowed depression, obesity, weakness and illness drag me down to a sedentary, isolated half-existence.

I'm not expecting anyone to go from zero to 60 and turn their lives around.
My new commitments took time, care and understanding to develop.

Being sick and sedentary is a difficult, oppressive square one from which to start.
So we sit some more.
We get sicker.
It's a downward spiral.
I understand.

Hey, just because I claim to be a motivational speaker doesn't mean I'm some naive, bubble headed optimist who walks around vomiting sunshine *
on unsuspecting passers by.

I read what people write on discussion forums and online support groups. Some folks are weak, in pain and depressed. One woman asked for help because she felt nauseated and overly tired after her gastric bypass. She asked for advice from the post-op support group members.
She ended with, "...and please don't tell me to walk. I can't."
That means she's asked for help previously and was told to get off her ass and walk.
Even though she's desperately looking for help, encouragement and understanding, she's getting tough love.

I know how she feels.
Back in my 400 pound days, walking was out of the question.
Not because I was lazy.
Not because I didn't want to.
Not because I was afraid to get out of my comfort zone.

It was out of the question physically.

I have a torn meniscus in my left knee. I injured it back in 1996 while walking on campus.

It's damaged pretty bad from years of pounding on it with too much fat on my too big body. The shin bone beneath it is damaged from it as well. Too much walking will wear away the remaining cartilage till it's bone on bone (Kinda like Matt's knee in Fat March). It hurts. It swells. My whole leg stiffens up and looks like a torpedo.
Even now with 120 pounds lost I am careful about my knee.

What about right after surgery?
Walking from my car to University Hall (I park in the handicapped spot close to the building) was an incredible effort fraught with aches, pains and flopping perspiration.
Brushing my hair was a workout.
Showering was a workout.
Standing in the shower was my equivalent of running up the Rocky steps in Philly.

When I started my 6 day a week exercise regimen back in January 2007 I was ever so careful about impacting my knees. I used the recumbent stationary bike. I didn't use the treadmill. I only spent 5 minutes on the elliptical. I was careful.

Do you think it would be appropriate to tell a weak, dehydrated post-op (or pre-op or no-op)
to get up and walk if their fitness level isn't compatible with walking???
No.
I don't.
I wouldn't.

Tough love is not called for when someone's in the same condition I was in 5 days after surgery (click here for the video).
Tough love is NOT what that woman on the discussion board needed.

Walking would not be the best option.

MOVING??
That's another story.

Anyone can move.
Anyone.
Even people who are paralyzed GET moved by physical therapists.
Yes, fat, sick people can move.

In my boo-hoo video from 5 days after my surgery you can see that I'm weak and in pain.
And what am I doing?
Moving.

Sure I'm sitting on the tub ledge.
Sure I'm just about able to do some cleaning and hand wash in my bathroom sink.
Sure I can barely stand.

BUT I'm doing what I can.
That's all you have to do.
Move as much as you can.
Do what you can.

Why?
To feel better.
To oxygenate your body.
To create energy in your life and in the world.
To feel your self, to feel your body circulating with bright red, oxygenated blood.
To participate actively in the world.
To build up a level of fitness that will be your foundation for wellness for the rest of your life.

I'm not speaking as a fitness expert.
I'm speaking from my experience and when it comes to my experience, I AM the expert!

My experience isn't so unique.
I'm of this species.
I'm obese like many Americans are these days.
I'm not some crackpot trying to sell you on a fad or a dangerous, untested idea.

If I can move, you can move.
Too weak?
Take a deep breath.
Lift our arms over your head slowly.
Put them down slowly.
Repeat if necessary.

Feel better?
Ok, maybe not.

Maybe you're like I was.
Movement was scary and upsetting.

Movement brings your attention to your neglected overfat body.
Movement wakes you up to the realization that you let yourself get sick or that people around you are contributing to your depressed, immobile state of ill health.

Movement may cause anxiety. I know I always have to fight my perfectionistic instinct. I get movement-phobic. I think I SHOULD be working harder or perspiring more or working out longer.

Those feelings disappeared as I started to workout.
Those negative feelings were like toxins that had to be sweated out of my system with aerobic movement.

Sitting still FEELS safe, but trust me, immobility is a little death.

If there is fat on your body it has to be burned by a healthy, active metabolism.
(And please don't argue that point by telling me about the Food Deprivation Cult.... uh, I mean Calorie Restriction Society and their live-longer fanaticism or I'll have to verbally assassinate them in this blog... Aw, hell, I'll be happy to assassinate them in this blog by request whether you argue with me or not. Just say the word.)

I resisted discipline because it felt like it was being imposed on me from the outside.
It came in the form of unwelcome advice.
It seemed to come from a lack of understanding on how badly I was suffering.
It seemed disingenuous coming from people who hadn't shown me much discipline in their lives.

Who likes being told what to do?
I was anit-advice.
I was anti-discipline.

Discipline was something for those OTHER people.
Discipline was patriarchal and militaristic.
Discipline seemed mindless and robotic to me.
Discipline seemed to arise from intellectual laziness where people did what they were told to do without questioning.

I rebelled.
Can you blame me?

"People don't resist change. They resist being changed."
- Alan Deutschman in Change or Die

The discipline that I developed for myself is not the discipline of the mindless fat-hating tyrants who yelled at me and humiliated me all my life.

The discipline I developed is filled with love, awakeness, self-understanding, appreciation and life-affirming hard work for the sake of MY dreams, goals and values. In alignment with MY beliefs.

NO ONE is making me do anything.
No one can.
I'm too much of a rebel.

I'm rebelling now.
I'm rebelling against the diet industry that has poisoned the minds of the public by imposing a false notion of how bodies become healthy.
They perpetuate the idea that deprivation leads to healthy weight loss when most of us know that DEPRIVATION LEADS TO BINGEING.

Don't take my word for it.
Do the research.
Or rely on your own experience.

My experience tells me that dieting, calorie obsessing, imposed discipline and tough love DON'T WORK on me. I'm too rebellious. And I'm not saying that like it's a bad thing.

I'm rebellious and I embrace that.
I'm rebellious and disciplined... both at the same time.

I affirm my activity.
I keep myself motivated.
I choose to be uplifted, encouraged and supported by certain people who say certain things.

Ain't nobody gonna make me do anything.

BUT... and everybody likes a big BUTT ...
I feel free to be inspired.


*Movement for the UnMotivated*
You can march in place.
You can even do it sitting down.
I just did.
It got the circulation going in my legs!

Yesterday's Weight: 257
Today's Blood Sugar: 158

I'm up and ready to Blog.... but my headache is raging.
I'm going to go ask my father for a blank check and then go to see my brilliant chiropractor
Dr. Alan Brewster.

Maybe it's the "asking my father" for money that 's giving me the headache...lol.

Repeat the mantra:
Money comes to me easily and often.
Money comes to me easily and often.

I'll Blog when I get back from getting my spine checked!

Gastric Bypass Video - not the easy way out

(Thanks Marni!)

Mere days after my surgery.
It was not textbook.
My brilliant surgeon had to "take down" a 20 year old Kuzmak gastric band surrounded by scar tissue and adhesions.
My blood sugar was dangerously high.
They had to give me two bags of blood because my red cells bottomed out.
I was in bad shape.

It is absurd to call weight loss surgery the 'easy way out'....

whence cometh my tears

Lisa in the garden at the Charleston villa (370 ish pounds).

Lisa in the garden at the Charleston villa (250 ish pounds).
The fogginess of this picture is from the steamy humidity and was
completely unintentional though it does mask wrinkles and flaws! lol

The air was thick with meaning...

Our first stop was the famous St. Michael's church located at the Four Corners of Law in Charleston's historic district. It's a beautiful church with a thick steeple climbing proudly into the sky. The interior is stately and gorgeous. Beautiful Tiffany stained glass windows and an elevated pulpit towering over the pews made me feel I had left the world of mere mortals and entered into sacred space.

And I had a headache.
I steaming, roiling headache.

It didn't come on suddenly from the change in climate from dry, sunny NJ to thick, balmy Charleston.
Nor did it come from the discomfort of air travel and sleeping in a strange bed the night before.
It was a tension headache.
The same headache that's been nagging me for the past 2 weeks since I made (and ignored) a mental note to myself to go see my chiropractor.

The weeks before my trip to Charleston I procrastinated getting my spine checked until I ran out of time.
Then I consoled myself that I'd be alright till I got back to Jersey and into Dr. Brewster's office.
My head ached but I figured a change of scenery would help me feel better.

Nnnnnno.
Headache 1 - Lisa 0

Ouch.

My head screamed as we began our day of site seeing.

We entered the magnificent Charleston church just in time for noonday prayers.
The celebrant was happy to see us.
We were the only ones there.

The church interior was comfortably cool. It had the sweetly stale smell of cedar and old books.
We opened our prayer books as instructed.
The celebrant began the call and response.

My friends and I answered her in unison.

Then it happened.
It descended upon me with no warning.
The finger of heaven rarely announces itself.

The prayer book indicated that we, the readers and the celebrant, were to recite the following...

Psalm 121

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.

My help cometh from the Lord: who hath made Heaven and earth.

He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: and he that keepeth thee will not sleep.

Behold, he that keepeth us: shall neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord himself is thy keeper: The Lord is thy defence upon thy right hand;

So that the sun shall not burn thee by day: neither the moon by night.

The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: yes, it is even he that shall keep thy soul.

The Lord shall preserve thy going out, and thy coming in: from this time forth forever more.

I got to the word "from" in the first line when it happened.
I choked on the words.
My face heated up.
I stopped my recitation.
Hot tears poured out of my eyes.

I struggled to maintain composure.
I barely whispered the rest of the Psalm as the tears ran down my cheeks in relentless sheets.

Thankfully, I had stuffed a clean washcloth into my purse before we left the house that morning in anticipation of the southern heat. I pulled it out and tried to blot mine eyes as discreetly as possible. I tried to pretend nothing unusual was happening.

I was able to speak just a bit.
I was able to choke out our side of the call and response.
The tears continued.
They wouldn't stop pouring from my eyes.
The tear-flow was as automatic as my own heartbeat.
Will would not cease them.

My face was soaked.

Our 1o minute prayer service ended with polite thanks between us and the celebrant.
My buddy, Matt, asked if I was ok.
I mouthed, "No, I'm not," and motioned for him to let me out of the pew as quickly as possible in a way that wouldn't make a scene.

I walked swiftly out of the church into the liberating sunshine.
Then I walked a few paces and sought refuge in the old graveyard attached to the church.
It was filled with
200 and 300 year old gravestones, some shaped like coffins.
It's surrounded by brick and wrought iron providing me the perfect place to cry in semi-privacy.

I let it out.
I wailed.
I buried my nose and mouth in the little white washcloth and wept.
I sobbed.
I woofed.

I can't remember a time when I was filled with so much gratitude and humility.
It was overwhelming.

It was only a year ago that I was lying in that hospital bed weakly clinging to life.
The ICU was on the top floor of the hospital.
I remember lying there with tubes and beeping monitors attached to me and looking hopefully out the window.

As I lay there I thought about the Reverend Mother in The Sound of Music telling Maria Von Trapp to flee from the Nazis by taking her family into the Alps.
She tells Maria, "Remember... I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help."

I lay there in the sterile room and looked up.
I was in such pain.

I tried to look forward.
I tried to imagine a time when I would feel well.
My faith was as shaky and unsteady as the rest of me right after my surgery.
I limped home from the hospital barely breathing.

Would I ever be able to walk without a cane or without holding onto the wall with one arm and my father on the other?
Would I ever be able to walk at a flea market without needing to sit down at the end of each row?
Would I ever be able to walk across campus without stopping to catch my breath at every bench in the quad?
Would I ever again see my beloved Charleston?

I hoped.
I tried hard to believe.
I wanted to believe.
I wanted my optimism to blossom and to be fulfilled.
But I was uncertain.

Though I was filled with uncertainty, my faltering optimism paid off.

Standing in one of the oldest Churches in Charleston made it real.
I felt like that old Church.
I felt like I had survived a war, an internal war, the war between MY states.
The state of hopelessness warring with the state of hopefulness.
The war against my own weakness and illness.
The war of will.

In my case, the underdog won.

There I was one full year later, 120 pounds lighter, crying in St. Michael's graveyard.
The living standing among the dead.

Grateful,
humble,
alive.

My headache was gone.
(It returned the next day. There is no substitute for a healthy spine that is free from subluxations.)

I lived to lift up mine eyes for another day.


*Movement for the UnMotivated*
It only hurts at first.
Get up.
Whether that means sitting up or standing up.
Reach and retract.
Extend your arms then pull them back.
Extend your legs then pull them back.
Get your blood flowing.
It gets easier, I promise.

The little why

Lisa on the fainting couch getting
ready to Blog while vacationing in Charleston, S.C.

Lisa in one of Charleston's beautiful patio gardens.

I did it again.
I was the only one in the hotel's gym this morning.

I usually don't work out on Sundays.
My commitment to work out is for 6 days a week.
I had already kept my 6 day commitment.
Why was I at the gym?

While visiting Charleston I walked on the Battery Wed, Thurs and Friday nights.
I mean really walked.
Briskly.
Huffing and swinging my arms.
Sweating in the southern humidity.

On our stay over on Saturday night I worked out in the gym at The Jefferson Hotel in Richmond, Virginia.

6 days, done.

So, what was left to do?
I was done for the week!

Still.
I felt compelled to ride that elevator down to the workout room this morning.
Before I could sit down to room service breakfast.
Before I could relax and watch the Weather Channel's Travel Report.
Before I could get on with my day and get on the road home,
I had to hit that gym.
I was driven.

I'm not entirely sure why.
I mean, I know WHY in the big picture.
The big WHY.
The reach-my-goal WHY.

But I don't know why I felt compelled to do an extra day.

Maybe I didn't feel like the power-walking was enough.

Who can say?

I'm not sure it matters as long as I DID it.

*Movement for the UnMotivated*
You don't need to have it all figured out before you start moving.
Just move.
Figure out your WHY along the way.

I must be nuts

I was the only person in the fitness center.
There was no attendant on duty.
There was no activity at all in the spa.
I had the gym to myself.

I thought,
"I must be nuts."

It was 7:00pm on a Saturday evening in beautiful, historic Richmond, Virginia.

Glittery ladies in high heels clicked around the grand lobby of The Jefferson Hotel.
Lilting piano music tinkled from the fabulous La Maire restaurant.
It was everyone's night out.
Everyone but me.

I had spent the day confined to the passenger's seat on our daylong trip from Charleston.
My legs were cramped.
They were cramped from a hours of sitting.
They were aching from 3 nights of walking on the merciless pavement of the High Battery on East Bay.

The pedals were harder to push than usual.
The bike seat seemed too high.

I would rather have been dressing for dinner.
I would rather have been sipping the best Bloody Mary on the east coast up in my well appointed hotel room.
I would rather have been soaking my aching joints in the jacuzzi.

But instead,
I was at the gym.
A fancy gym, so it's not like I'm complaining.
I'm merely observing that:
I must be nuts.

I rode two different stationary bikes for my 45 minutes of cardio while watching TV.
My own personal TV.
Each piece of exercise equipment had its own personal TV screen and headphones.
As I sweated my way through two uphill rides, I flicked through the channels and sipped my complimentary spring water.

Alone.

The mirrors were honest and unforgiving.
Huge mirrors on the walls of the empty fitness center showed me every jiggling pound.
My flesh wobbled as I pedaled.

I tore myself apart...at first.
I worried about the way my thighs jiggled.
I hated the way my arms looked spread out against my side-boobs.
I thought I looked like a blobby dumpling.

And then I started to change my tone.
I thought about how nuts it was for me to be riding the stationary bike on a Saturday night
and I felt better.

I smiled at myself in the unforgiving mirror.
The mirror didn't have to forgive me.
I was forgiving myself.
I smiled.

Sounds goofy, but it's a big deal.
Smiling at myself.
Instead of allowing the negative voice in my head to ruin me
I allowed myself to be proud.

I was proud to be doing something that no one else was doing (at that moment).
Rather than "call it a day" and do what everyone else in the hotel was doing - eating, drinking, dressing up, socializing, relaxing - I was keeping my commitment.

I was getting myself one day closer to my goal.
I was solidifying the healthy habits that will carry me and energize me for the rest of my life.

Not bad for a Saturday night.