Posts Tagged ‘fear of failure’

checkeredsneakersAlong with a laundry list of declining health issues due to my massive obese self, my knees aided in my decision to have weight loss surgery May of 2011. I’ve lost around 140 pounds (it floats up and down depending on what I have stuffed in my mouth, how much sodium I’ve consumed…and whatever long jargon you can fathom for “haven’t been 100% focused”).

My staircase pre-op was a major obstacle. My landlord had to reinforce the staircase so it wouldn’t wobble when I waddled up (it wobbled without my waddle – my obesity did not cease the waddle wobble). My weight made the motion of stepping viciously painful. My knees would scream like I had rail road spikes driven through them. It was 19 steps to the top.

It is still 19 steps to the top.

As the weight started to drop, my activity level skyrocketed. Stairs – eh- touch and go. In October of 2011 I physically could not do the stair workout at the gym with my trainer (17 steps to the top). The pain was unreal (so I thought-apparently it gets worse). So he incorporated other activities. I did try spin for several months, got hooked on boxing drills, totally dug weights & TRX (I’m sick, I know); did cave into the elliptical even though I complained about it all the time. By January of 2012 I could do the stair workout. I had a 40lb weight loss before I resumed the activity. A few months later I tried a stair climber and fell right off. I discovered the row machine. I took a header over a stack of risers in front of about 50 people. I also attempted jumping rope.

If you ever want a lesson on how to hang yourself with a rubber tube via pony-tail, let me know.

I desperately wanted to run. I signed up for a 5K last spring, my knees wouldn’t cooperate. I would sign up for two more 5K’s and a marathon over the next 12 months, but the outcome was the same: knees wouldn’t cooperate. So I resolved myself to the fact I will not be a runner.

So I got into outdoor workouts, those were fun. Not so much for my knees. I do have to have my right knee replaced, like soon (2014 – probably before Spring). Still – my knees have gotten progressively worse in the past five months, and…

…my staircase has become an obstacle.

Again.

Coupled (or quadrupled – it’s a glass half full/empty thing) with all of the changes I’ve gone through since surgery, this knee thing has slammed me into a corner. I mean, I lost 140lbs and am about in tears by the 14th step (remember: there are 19-I count them every day).

That’s where I was before the surgery, minus the tears.

It’s both pissed me off and gotten me depressed. Say what you will, all of my accomplishments over the past 29 months feel completely quashed over this. I am so disappointed right now.

Final note: THIS situation should have been included in the insurance mandatory pre-surgery seminars I had to attend.

I follow several fitness bloggers, my favorite being Steve & Bonnie Pfiester and their BCX Boot Camp page and LiveExercise program (um…no…really…I’m not a stalker). They have honest, practical, in-your-face content I just suck up.

Not to be confused with “suck it up” – that’s later.

Bonnie’s latest blog is about Celebrity Bodies, before and afters, what’s normal, etc. In her post she talks about what her weight typically looks like, what it looks like when she preps for photo shoots, and when staying a bit leaner. Bonnie also mentioned she’s been a bit more than her leanest weight, what makes her feel, miserable, and what twenty pounds more feels like.

I don’t want to quote her entire post. What I do want to quote is this: “We all have that weight where we feel our best, and mine is (go read the blog). That is a weight I feel good at, and I feel like I can maintain without being miserable.”

This is a frigging fantastic comment and one I cannot comfortably say. For while I’m incredibly happy I do not stare at numbers which loom slightly under the 400lb mark any longer (I still can’t wrap my head around that, I am not happy where I’m currently at – which is still another 55-60 pounds from my goal weight.

My goal isn’t out of reach. I know all I have to do is get off the lazy truck and do what I know I’m supposed to be doing. I have a lot of motivation: my friend Jill who weighed just ten pounds more than I did when we both embarked on our weight loss journeys (she threw herself into the gym – and that is an understatement!). My #1 Jesus Mum – Debi – who’s healthy as a little horse (seriously…”You’re not the boss of me”…totally takes on a whole new meaning) – she has mysteriously high cholesterol and sports several heart stints. I have online pals who follow my weight loss antics (okay…some are downright hysterical…I fall off stuff really well).

I have women in my life who when we do workout together, it’s a blast. It’s really infrequent. I get discouraged because we’ve had discussions on “Yah! This’ll be great!”. Commitment is an issue…and then my commitment to myself becomes an issue. I know it’s an excuse. I can’t tell you how challenging and fun it is to workout with someone. Working out alone is…alone. Dumb excuse.

Life check. What the heck AM I doing here???

For those of you on the post-op wagon who got off track, those friends who run when I invite them to play at the park, the other friends who’ve opened the weight loss door of discussion then flee like a warehouse fire erupted when I hold you to it: all in or all out? Longevity of life to chase nieces, nephews, grand-kids, spouses, Minions, new cute little man-babies (okay…I really, really, really like Beckham) do a pull-up.

I want to continue to be amazed at the little stuff: I can put another half of me in an airplane seat – where I use to spill over into the next one. I can cross my legs…like…all the time. I’ve been in the bathroom twice on the plane – to pee – but I can walk in without turning sideways…or knocking the toilet paper into vortex below.

Personally: I’m either 100% in or I’m 100% out. My health, though vastly improved, is not optimal. Physically – if I don’t get the remaining weight off I’m in for a real headache. Knee replacements are on the horizon, and one will have to be in the next 12-18 months. My back hurts where my spine curves. The added weight doesn’t help. My butt bounces when I run (I need a butt-bra). I want to do Cross Fit (I can do most of the stuff). I’d KILL to get up to the top of a muscle rope – right now I can’t even pull my body weight over a bar.

Time to get off truck of lazy and focus on making my life matter. Not just in the Jesus realm, in the physical too!

 

Somewhere across the country there’s a secret collective of post-op dairy farmers. They haven’t been clear on their target market, or the cost of their product to consumers when it officially hits store shelves. One thing is clear: confidential sources have revealed they’re milking it for all it is worth.

Ugh.

Piece of advice: if you fell off the post-op salad truck, STOP posting, ‘What do I DO???” all over the internet. If you are a weight loss surgery post op for any length of time (two seconds, two months, two years, two decades), you know what you are supposed to do…unless of course you were hit on the head with fried Twinkies. Then you could be suffering from WLSPOA (weight loss surgery post op amnesia).

To avoid becoming a POW, try the following steps:

1. Talk to someone. You have a primary care doctor, you have a surgeon, you have a nutritionist. If any of these professionals have mysteriously vanished out of your life (alien abduction?)…FIND SOMEONE NEW. If you’re unable to do so then my assumption would be you reside on an island in total solitude, which means you have no access to communications and will not read this anyway.

2. If you know you’re eating habits are bad, and you know you have consumed that which you probably are not supposed to (like a container of crispy oatmeal chocolate chip cookies from Trader Joe’s), get over it. It’s summer. You can grow stuff. Even better, you can pay someone who grew it already.

3. If you have the phrase “I can’t afford to” flashing behind your eyelids in reference to item #2, hold your tongue. Chances are incredulously high you have, oh let’s see: all the cable channels, all the movie channels, a smart phone and a big ol’ plan.

I whine to a select few of my friends, none of whom give me one ounce of slack because they’ve been privy to my weight loss changes. I don’t complain online all that often. Usually I will talk to someone who puts me in my place. I also yell at people. Ask my friend Anne. I chased her bum back across the football field at boot camp a few weeks ago for short-cutting the track, later I made her do half leap frogs. My trainer gives me no slack at all-and it has nothing to do my picture he put on his car advertisement. It’s because he remembers when I was the fattest woman in the gym, how my stomach drug the ground during push ups, or how 40lbs made a world of difference in climbing 17 steps.

God, you have so much to celebrate. Don’t be a POW. Don’t focus on the prison and the chains…neither hold you anymore.

If that doesn’t encourage you, get stuck somewhere. I got wedged in that little space there between the bed and nightstand over the weekend to fix the carpet. I hadn’t laughed that hard at myself in a long, long time.

smallspotigotstuckin

slotmachineIf you are one of the hundred of thousands of women who jump on and off of a scale multiple times (i.e. all.day.long.), here’s a tip: install a quarter slot on the wall above the scale. Every time you step on the scale, insert a quarter. Bet you’re a millionaire by the end of the day.

Well, maybe not.

In addition to the rapid weight loss experienced by post-ops during the first year to year and a half after weight loss surgery, the need to weigh oneself constantly throughout the day (every day) can (and usually does) become a substantial problem. It’s called scale obsession, and we allow our attitude for the day to be completely dictated by what number ticks by on the little square under our feet. To some degree it’s a little funny. Seriously – who in the world would have thought scale obsession would be the addiction which replaced cartons of ice cream, quarter pounders, chips, M & M’s or (insert your food of choice here)…

Stand on the scale one too many times and you will allow it to define who you are: Darlin’ you are entirely too fat. Look. At. You. A whole pound in six hours – what were you thinking? Anxiety, negativity, feeling like a failure – none of this is conducive to a healthy body image. We already feel insecure with our body changes, why add to the baggage cart? Your weight will fluctuate throughout the day due to water weight/retention, a holiday or birthday indulgence (or chocolate attack at the office), pooping (yes…pooping), muscle mass, etc.

I am not a scale person – it doesn’t portray a clear picture of my weight loss.  The 33.5 inches I’ve lost in the last 24 months do.

Before you step on your scale again take a picture of yourself, then place it next to the picture of your former self. No scale can make you feel that good.