astericks*

My boss is the only other person who knows other than my bestie (my right hand). I didn't even tell my family. While he shuns the whole weight lost surgery idea (ex-Navy SEAL), he is very, very supportive of my decision to take control of my health issues have the surgery. He has even given me permission to incorporate 45 minutes of activity/exercise (we have a gym at work) into my workday...and believe me, he holds me accountable to getting my 45 minutes in at least 4 days a week. I have a million leave hours banked away since I never take off...so everyone just thinks I am taking a much need vacation for 3 weeks.

I met with my surgeon for my first visit on Thursday, and got the nuts and bolts of how this is going to go down. I am on a three-month track. This means that I need to have all my requirements met by the end of the second month. I went in, and they gave me a binder with all of my “stuff” that I needed. A listing of labs that I need; diagnostic studies; the head shrinker that I need to confess all my sins to; the nutritionist. And you would think that I would be happy about this…but for some reason I had it in my mind that I had six months to “get my mind right” for this lifestyle change…and now I have 8 weeks to get it right. Alright. I see. I had it in my mind that right after the appointment, I was gonna come home, make the calls and get all this done in a 24 hour time frame. Me being the over-achiever, and all. But I didn’t. I took the afternoon and read everything that was in that binder from cover to cover…and I realized that I can really do this. No really. I can do this. I looked at the 1800 calorie diet…and I am thinking half of this stuff I eat already….just way too much of it. So I’ve reviewed the shopping list and after eating a Lean Cuisine, I went to get some groceries (Note: That’s a victory within itself because I always end up grocery shopping on an empty stomach…which is the mortal sin for dieters worldwide). Got the goods. Check. I went to Barnes and Noble and got me a new journal for tracking my meals and a new book. Bite it and write it. Check. Got some new fragrant waxworks for the cove. Aromatherapy. Check. Took the dog for a 4 mile walk around Lake Montebello…and I didn’t give up after the first 2 miles. Feel the burn, honey…and push right through it. Check. Got a great night’s sleep…productive at work…ate a sensible dinner tonight of a ¾ cup of rice and sautéed ‘shrooms with snow peas and a lovely dessert of yogurt and mixed berries. Who would have known that a serving size can actually be filling if you’re not woofing it down in 2 minutes? I reflect on this day and the few that has preceded it…thinking that I need to get ready, and get ready FAST. I’ve done some amazing feats in my short time on this planet…and being anything less than triumphant is not even an option. Better choices + Better decisions=Better results. Remembering that food is just a source of energy….true fulfillment comes from a love of self. I am sitting on my porch…and rather than smashing a pepperoni pizza and some breadsticks…I am enjoying something that is waaaay more filling. The pleasure of my own company. Does it get any better than that?

Phenomenal!

I have UHC as well...and the funny thing is, I am working with Karen as well. I am at the very beginning of the process: I have met with my PCP to get my weight history (that was a wake up call within itself), identified a Center of Excellence and attended an information session as well. My UHC plan does not require the 6 months supervised weight loss requirement, but I have been following a plan since November 2009, so I have it in my back pocket just in case. I am so happy for you and I could feel the happiness radiating from your post as I read it. I cannot wait until I get further along in the process and get that feeling as well! Warmest regards to you and your current and future success...and save a spot for me on the loser's bench when you get there!

I've joined this site a little less than a week ago, looking for some insight into this whole process. But the story doesn't begin there. The story begins about a year and a half ago when I called my crappy insurance company at the time and asked about weight loss surgery. I couldn't even get the rest of the sentence out before the representative on the other end advised me in the most abrupt manner that this was not covered under my plan. I hung the phone up...pissed as all get-out because I am dealing with a serious medical issue and I NEED HELP. It was not so much the fact that it was not covered that had me all out of sorts, but the fact that it has taken me over 14 years to admit that there is something that I could not do on my own and required the assistance of another person. I've always grown up to believe that the only person that anyone can ever depend on is themselves, as we are all aware of what our limitations are. I've always known with a firm assertion that I could always conquer this weight thing...it's an essential equation of mind over matter. In the very beginning, I believed that I could just do the cabbage diet for a week or two to jump start my metabolism and since I was in my early 20's the weight would fall off. And it did. I lost 35 pounds in less than 6 weeks...got down to a voluptuous size 14 and was able to run a mile in about 10 minutes. I don't need anybody's help. I did it on my own. The weight loss battle continued....I'd lose 25 pounds...to gain them all back. And to never be out done, I always added another 10 pounds to keep it consistent. I tried Weight Watchers over ten times with some success...all to give up when I hit a plateau. I caught the occasional blessed stomach virus (I'm probably going to hell for admitting this...but I welcome a stomach virus and a hearty bout of the flu with open arms) all to go back to being heavier than I was in the beginning. I look back today at all those times..and now realizing that this volatile battle with weight has been a never ending war over the past 14 years. And 160 pounds later, I realized that it's a whole lot more complicated than I thought it was or ever thought that it could be. About little about me...my family primarily consists of my mother and my brother, and they know I have struggled with my weight for a long time. I have always been a big girl...and always got the you have such a pretty face and a beautiful smile...but ....and I've always wanted to say But what? Say it! Say it! even though I knew that meant that you're pretty, but your big. I don't know how I would go on if I ever heard the answer, but part of me wanted to hear somebody have the nerve to say it. Because I was always overweight, I was never viewed by my family as a person who could be loved or seen having a family or those things that most women assign their value to. So I've never pursued them. I'm embarrassed to say that I am 33 and have never been in a serious relationship where the love has been reciprocated. I was always viewed by my family in terms of my accomplishments. So my entire being has been focused on my career and climbing as high on the ladder as I could possibly go. I realized this was true when I turned 30 and was asked at a family event if I wanted a family or if I would ever get married, I found it interesting that the response was a resounding no and I never opened my mouth. That was so hurtful...but I kinda shrugged it off as I didn't care and laughed it off. What...because I am obese I cannot WANT to be married and have a family? Can I not be EXPECTED to be married and have a family? My closest friends really don't believe in weight loss surgery. They are all just a tad overweight...and when you are my size, I hate to admit this...but I could care less about people who are struggling to lose 25 pounds to get to their goal weight. I know everyone's weight loss struggle is different...but for some reason, it irritates me in the worst way. I would secretly get angry at Weight Watchers meetings when I saw a room full of thin, beautiful stay-at-home mothers whining about losing 20 pounds. I wanted to pull an Ally McBeal, slap them all in the face and stand in the front of the room and remind them that there are bigger things in life to worry about than trying to squeeze in a size 4. I mean, c'mon! I get frustrated when my friends want to go shopping....and I am only limited to shop in 2 stores: Lane Bryant and Target. I can sit watching them try on clothes for hours in The Limited, Express and Forever 21...but when they have to sit in Lane Bryant for more than 15 minutes, everyone has somewhere else they need to be when it's my turn to shop. I don't think they know what it is like when you go to a restaurant and the booth is cutting in your gut because you barely fit in it. They have no idea what it is like to fly on an airplane and you whisper for a belt extender...and the flight attendant brings it to you and everyone looks at you with disgust. I doubt they know how it feels to have a host of male friends who call you to tell you about all their dates and heartbreaks with beautiful women who are fit and trim...and you know in your heart of hearts that you can love them better than any woman could ever love them...but know that you are never afforded that 'opportunity' becuase of how much you weigh. I dread being in weddings...because if they decide on a bridemaid's dress it has to come in a larger size to accommodate me and not be backless to exploit my dredded 'backfat.' I can't cross my legs. I haven't seen my no-no in years...and if I so desire to take a peek, I need a mirror to give me the story secondhand. Having sex is like playing Twister with arms that are too short and legs that are too long...you can reach one spot with no problem, but none the other spots that you need to in order to get a good score. Not to mention you're playing incomplete darkness, so you don't know what dot you're aiming for...you're just trying to get to something. I talk to my friends regulary and they look at me and always say that I have the life they want: I have a really good job, have a nice home, nice car, very well educated and single. Well, I doubt if anyone is dying to get at the head of the line to deal with cystic ovarian disease, peripheral vscular disease, sleep apnea and hypertension. Yes, I have a lot of nice things and a ton of accomplishments, but they are... all. just. things. I'll die of a massive heart attack before I get the full opportunity to enjoy them. I live alone, and my dog hasn't learned CPR (I don't doubt that she can...she's almost human) so by the time they find me, I'll be all stew and maggots. Oh, and I have this horrible fear that I probably can't fit in a coffin or when they carry me out the hurst the handles will rip off of the coffin and my body will topple out...so that's another embarrassment from the grave. I don't want anyone to get the impression that I have bad friends or family. I love them and all their flaws. They are exceptional people because they deal with me...and sometimes I can be difficult. But I want anyone who reads this to understand that no matter what your friends and family may think, feel, believe or say...sometimes you have to have to take full ownership for your life and the cheers and jeers that are contained within it. As I write this for everyone to see, I say the following statement to myself over and over again: the instant that you take full ownership of your life is the moment that you fully acknowledge your obligation to do what you must to preserve it. I have no idea what the future holds for me, but I do know that I've made the first step to assure that I'll at least get a glimpse of it by meeting with my surgeon on Thursday for my first appointment.