I’m writing this though tears. Do you know how awesome it is to be in so much pain that you chew a vicodin? I do. I just did it and it was not pleasant. I sit here with my dinner before me, looking at the clock, waiting for 7:41 so I can start to eat.
I’m crying for so many reasons. Mainly the pain in my knees. Pain, so severe that I barely made it up 6 steps to go upstairs to get my vicodin.
I started to prepare dinner for myself around 6. Halfway through I could feel the pain building up. But I pushed through it, drinking my water while making my dinner. While my dinner was cooking I made another meal. Put all three pots in the sink and started bawling my eyes out.
Today I had a lot of energy, so I ran many errands. Doctors office (I parked a block away so I could walk more), Trader Joe’s (same deal, but not parking close to the entrance), home, up and down steps, ate lunch, took care of some important paperwork, back upstairs for stamps, out to the post office, cleaned out some of my car, back inside the house, emptied dishwasher, back upstairs, and that’s when I decided to rest a bit. But I couldn’t get comfortable. I wasn’t tired so I wasn’t trying to sleep. I talked to my Mom, and then my niece. Before I knew it, it was 5:45 so i decided to head downstairs to feed the cat. I was still talking to my niece so I decided to prepare dinner at the same time. I scored and blanched grape tomatoes from the garden, peeled and cut up some zucchini, and browned some 99% fat free ground turkey. I was still drinking water so i knew i had to wait half an hour before i could eat. I added strings from a cheese stick to my zucchini dish and measured out a half cup for my dinner, added a tsp of ricotta, and put the rest away. I finished making the other dish (mac and cheese), put the pots and pans in the sink and that’s when a whoosh of emotion just hit me.
I had the surgery. But I still have this f***ing knee pain. And I’m not drinking my 60 ounces of fluid a day. I’m timing everything. When I eat, when I can drink again, and then when I can eat again. I’m getting my meals in which is great, but it’s a struggle.
I’m not going to lie. I’m not going to sugar coat anything. This is f***ing hard. And as I’ve said, it’s easy to be fat. But then again let’s be honest here; there’s nothing NOTHING easy about being fat. The sweating, the looks from strangers, the comments from little kids, the fear of breaking yet another toilet seat, the pain….both physical and mental. There is nothing fun or easy about being fat. And it’s being fat that got me to where I am. I didn’t blame anyone but myself. Sure I have underlying health issues and genetics that I’m fighting, but I’m the one who looked at food as the only positive thing in my life. I’ve learned through therapy that food is not the enemy. And it never was.
I joked about writing a book and calling it “Dont Let Your Kids Get Fat.” A little harsh, I know. But after tonight and the day I’ve had, it just really hit me what really got me to this point. I know I did the right thing, getting the gastric bypass. I was more afraid not to get it done.
So while I’m all for acceptance of all bodies, shapes, and sizes, I’m even more for being healthy. I don’t blame my parents, relatives, teachers, friends, or food. I blame myself. I think we should all love ourselves no matter how loud the voices in our head can get at times. However, when the pain and frustration of being fat get louder than those voices, then it’s time to think about what matters more. You do.