Friday, March 20, 2009

Happy Surgaversary To Me . . .

Well. Today is (was?) the big day. Two years since my surgery. Two years since I was rolled down that hall. Two years since the sweet, sweet drugs took me under. Two years since I first walked after surgery. Two years since I tearfully told Wifey that "we made it". Two years since those first anxious days and weeks after surgery when every thing I put in my mouth would, I was sure, pop my pouch and/or make me dump and/or lead to immediate weight gain and a lifetime of screwdness as I exhasuted all possible weight loss options available to no positive result.

Two years since I felt so crazy (and two years since I started feeling and acknowledging crazy in other areas of my life and working through it all).

I last updated my statistics chart at my 18-month mark (the end of the journey) and it seems like, true to the expert decloration, the journey of how gastric bypass will impact my weight and body did, in fact, end six months ago.

I have had SINGLE DIGIT weight loss since then. Yep. Six pounds. Six. I could have lost way, way more than that by just getting off my butt. And that, my friends, is the point of this post. The truth. The confession. The repeating of what I've been saying for two years on this blog.

Surgery is not the easy way out. It is not a guarantee of weight loss. It is not a guarantee of lifelong success. It is a tool. A vehicle. A first step. An aid. A hope and a prayer and a start.

Those hours on the table are all the surgeon or the procedure give you.

The rest is up to you. Same as it was before surgery. Same as it was when you first fell in love with junk food. Same as it was when you first realized you were morbidly obese and needed help. Same as it was when you took that last bite of solid food before you had to all-liquid-diet to ready for your surgery.

I have 30 pounds to lose. I might well be technically gaining weight. The number is down but Joy and I both feel like I might have been lighter around New Year's than I am now by a few pounds (promise to self - I will not go more than a month without weight myself ever again).

I have to lose them. I have to take responsibility. The ride of the surgery is long over. Six months over. Enough with the kidding around that the weight will just fall off me. Time to get to the gym. Time to use the treadmill in the basement. Time to start using my Biggest Loser DVDs again. Time to sign up for that yoga class instead of looking at the sign-up form. Time to start tightening my diet again.

I'll be fine. It's up to me. I got me this far. I've had this much success. I've done this much work. I've made it work and I've figured out a lot about myself and food and who I really am in relation to food. I can do this. I will do this.

It is up to me and I, two years after surgery, am strong, committed, loved, blessed and ready.
Much love to those that have read the last 440 posts of this blog. Much love to all the people that loved me when I was morbidly obese. Much love to those that love me now. Much love to the fine medical professionals at Danbury Hospital. Much love to my BGBFF Kate (who has a blind date this weekend and is "talking with" three men right now (get out there and enjoy it, my skinny, intellegent, caring, wonderful (and beautiful) friend)). Much love to my family (Amore, Terry, Salmans, Delenick, Kelly, Koskie, et al). Much love to my little Ava Grace. Much, much, much love to Wifey, without whom I truly would not be here today. Not the current version of me or any other version of me. I owe you my laughter, my love, my light and my life - and I thank you for sharing your gifts, patience, virtues and life with me.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go sit on my duff and watch some TV. Tomorrow. I'll go to the gym tomorrow! It's my surgarversary. I deserve to take today off (smile)!