I studied the various processes for several years. Read all the statistics. I talked to friends and family that had gone through different types of weight loss surgery.
I knew there would be challenges. Ups and downs of varying degrees. I knew there would be times when I would be discouraged.
I went into the surgery knowing all this, and planning for it in the future. I was determined to maintain a positive outlook. And I did so.
I've had great success. The surgery certainly did it's part, but I've also worked my tail off to both expedite the process and set a good routine to live by the rest of my life. My attitude has remained positive, even during those weeks where the scale doesn't seem to budge. I've continued to work hard, trying to focus on doing it right instead of the results.
What I didn't plan for was the battle of complacency.
I've gotten so many kind remarks from friends and family. All the standard proverbial pats on the ass. "You look great. Good Job! You look like a different person," etc. These things are always great to hear, and more often than not they can turn a dreary day bright. But there's also a dark side to all the compliments. Each time I hear one, my heart wants to claim victory, thinking I've crossed the finish line. My brain has to intervene with a classic Lee Corso "not so fast my friend."
One of the things that was repeated over and over again in the pre-op booklet I was given by the surgeon was the phrase "for the rest of your life." No sugar for the rest of your life. No soda for the rest of your life. Small portions for the rest of your life.
The battle of complacency will likely be for the rest of my life too.
This all revolves around exercising. Diet-wise, I'm doing great. When I do cheat and eat bad foods, typically it either makes me so sick I don't want it again, or it makes me terribly lethargic. Even to this day, I remain amazed by how much better I feel when eating properly.
Exercise, however, has become a chore. The honeymoon has worn off, and that's mainly happened since I began weight training. And again, it's because I am so intently focused on the result - a lower number on the scale. But with weight training, I'm putting on muscle while the fat melts, so the scale doesn't always move. That's frustrating, and when I get frustrated I want to make a change. In the last few weeks, that change has been to quit working out. Because I "feel" more normal, and I demand to see a difference on the scale, I am doing myself a disservice.
It's complacency, and it has to stop.
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Now for the fun stuff:
I'm down to 2XL in most shirts and jackets.
My pants size is down from a 58 to a 46.
My jacket size is down from a 64 to a 54.
I can fit in normal seats now.
I can fit in a booth without having to rearrange based on the side that is the biggest.
The newest belt I purchased 5 weeks ago is now on its last notch. Cue the drill.
Endurance is through the roof. I walked around Tuscaloosa Saturday for close to 10 hours. Never got tired.
Yesterday I worked 12 straight hours cleaning out junk and never felt fatigued.
I don't feel like I'm always in the way now.
I love the smile on my niece's face when she hugs me and rejoices that she can lock her hands together around my back.
As of this morning, I have lost 120 pounds.
My goal that I'm striving for is to be below 300lbs for my 6-month post-op checkup with the surgeon. That appointment is November 15th. Which gives me just over a month to lose another 20 pounds. Definitely doable.
Thank you all for your continued support and words of encouragement. This journey could not, would not, have happened without you all.
Weight this morning: 321.8 lbs.
Regards,
The Vanishing Taylor
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