I need an intervention...

Hello, my name is Read.  I'm addicted to carbs.


I don't know why this happened.  I swear it was never true before I got banded - or at least not like this.  I think it's about what I can eat easily... think mashed potatoes.

It doesn't seem to matter that the potatoes might suck - meh.  I'll still eat them.  Maybe throw in a little stove top stuffing too... Seriously! The only time I used to ever eat either of those things was when I was hung over.  That's always been my go to thing for hangovers - give me carbs or give me death.  But other than that... uh, not so much... until I got this thing in me... well maybe at thanksgiving - but... eh.

I swear I get home from work every day after eating really well and having been perfectly satisfied and then I'll eat something like... boxed mashed potatoes - I don't even like them.  What the hell is wrong with me.  I can't tell you how many boxes of this shit I've thrown in the trash.

I need an intervention - can you help??  I'm perfectly open to being slapped around, or to suggestions, or to having a "hit" man (though not one charged with death) being sent my way....

A continuation... How to stay in the magical place...

So… let’s continue this conversation, shall we…

You all gave me some wonderful comments to yesterday’s post.  There were a few suggestions – Thanks! – but there were a fair amount of people who were also looking for suggestions to stop the train before it slides off the tracks.  I thought the topic deserved some more attention.

First let me say that thank you for all the supportive comments to me, but the truth is, I’m in a good place right now.  And it’s really only when I’m in a good mental place that I can have these conversations.  If my train has fallen off the tracks I couldn’t or wouldn’t in a million years bring up stuff like this… It’s just another little bit of my insanity.

Along with several commenters, in my “good place” nothing is off limits.  I eat a healthy well balanced diet that meets my goals; protein and calories and vitamins and whatever they might be – the majority of the time.  But if I want some McDonald’s French fries because the bag I just bought my kids smells so good, well I absolutely have a few and I don’t think twice about it.  I don’t later feel guilty, I don’t later feel like I have to atone for my sins.  I am just in a good headspace and know that making something off limits will just make me want it more.  So I have a few of whatever the hell I want and move on.  Ice cream, sure.. Not every day, not a lot.  But if I want some, I have it. 

In this place I exercise regularly and in fact the “rules” I live by are really more about making sure I don’t overdo it.  I will not under any circumstances let myself exercise for 7 days in a row.  (I’m currently not in danger of that at the moment, but have been in the past).  The only thing I insist upon of myself is enough rest.  But I find, in this magical place, that I’m looking for ways and times I can get my exercise in.  It’s just such a part of who I am. 

“Man, I’m going out with Lisa tonight, so I better do it in the morning.”  “I’m going to be up so late tonight that I better sleep a little later and do it after work, after I get the dinner on the table for the kids.”  Those are thoughts that run around my head.  I’m sure many of you are familiar with them.

So all in all – for me this magical place is an overall healthy place to live.  I am thinking healthy – no big rules, no obsessions, no “You. Can. Not. Have. That.s”, no good food and bad food, no you are good and you are bad.  I eat well, I sleep well, I exercise well.  I don’t worry about every little thing.  I’ve lived here for years at a time.  But….

Eventually the train slides off the tracks.  And I can always feel it coming.  It’s when it’s been going well for too long, when I’ve been too successful that the little devil on my shoulder kicks my ass.

So let’s have a little group exercise… Anyone in for it?

It happens to most of us – the falling off the wagon so to speak  - we’re all smart, powerful, beautiful people – let’s try and come up with some strategies that we can try and see if they work to both stop it before it starts and to get us back to where we want to be when we’re floundering.

Some suggestions we’ve already had are:

• Have hours of sex (personally this is my favorite but sadly not an option for me at the moment)
• Ask the 'healthy you' what to do in a given circumstance
• Give yourself a stern talking to
• Just decide you’re not going to give in to the bad decision(s) you’ve just made and get back up on that horse and move on
• Blog or journal about it – asking for help

I remember a long time ago using a technique that worked for the most part… Whenever I’d start to have a negative thought.  “I’m a failure”, “I think I should make a cake so I can eat the cake batter”, “I need four pounds of chocolate” – that kind of thing, you yell (or at least internally yell) NO!  And immediately start thinking of something else.  Like the laundry you have to do, or an issue at work, or the friend you’re going out with tomorrow night.  Until your mind has truly and completely moved onto the other topic.  I haven’t done that in a long, long while – but I swear it did help me move past any negative thoughts once upon a time.

I’d love it if you’d add any old thing you can think of to the list.  Let’s come up with a list of possibilities to try.  Maybe they won’t work.  But I bet, some of them will work for some of us!!

Thanks so much!!

'I'm listening' turned me into 'I'm thinking' - he's a MOB

So... 'I'm listening' over at Married to the Band (who has an spectacular new blog look thanks to the amazing Jenny) asked a question that I found very intersting and really tough too...

He was talking about how Tessie Rose blogged about being so much happier now than she was in a picture from a year ago.  He questioned that as they’d been just as happily married then as they are now.  And …“She explained that the unhappiness was with herself and for the longest time it caused her to question most of the affection and love I had for her. Looking back....that really made sense...pretty enlightening information for me. Theresa can get up in front of a room and do a standup routine but wasn't self confident enough to truly accept things in a normal relationship as they were. Those days are gone. But what if you gained all the weight back now but the relationship didn't change? Would you revert back?“

That gave me pause

.

.

.

(that was me pausing)

I can only answer that as me – the person not quite half way to my weight goal.  The me who’s been overweight forever.  And I say – yes, I’d revert right back.  I’ve lost weight before, felt good about myself and confident about my place in the world (hoooo now – let’s not get carried away!)  Okay, more confident about my worth (that’s better).  But if I lose all the weight I want to and blossom even more fully into the person I know I am underneath all this stuff – and work out all my issues with all my relationships and am good and confident and happy about it all.  (understanding the normal ups and downs of life still fully exist.)  And then…. I gain it all back. Well, after I’d kill myself.  I’d hate myself.  I just would.  Not only would I have the comfortable hate (or at least dislike and strongly disapprove) of myself I’ve known and loved (or rather loathed) all these many years – but I’d have the added pure fires of hell hatred at what a spectacular failure I am.  I’m smart and if I know I’m a failure and I know I’m unworthy of this or that, and I know you’re smart – well of course I’d believe that you’d know I was a failure and unworthy too.  I could easily see myself believing those around me were just staying with me cuz they felt stuck or maybe just felt a profound sense of pity and didn't want to hit a girl when she was already so obviously down or however unworthy or icky I was didn’t outweigh every one of the feelings they might have.  It was close, sure, but maybe the scale tipped a little bit to my side (all puns intended).  But then I’d feel badly that they had to settle for something so unworthy… yadda yadda yadda.

So… my question is… Will that thinking ever change?

I’m not planning on gaining the weight back.  Of course I wasn’t planning on it before either.  But I have this thing now and I truly believe it’s gonna help me maintain whatever weight I lose.  So… Once I’m in a truly comfortable place – and in all honesty I’m not that far right now mentally – will I get to a place where I’m so confident that I’m insulated from those kinds of thoughts?  I just don’t know.  I’ve heard many of you talk about having to get your mind to catch up with your body – I wonder if it happens?  Or happens all the way?

I’ve talked about how my marriage is not completely smooth right now but these next comments don’t have a single thing to do with that…

My husband has a huge ego.  I don’t know if it’s a male thing or just a Brad thing, but it’s hilarious.  He’s the first to admit it - and quite proudly too.  He will say, quite often.. I’m the best fucking AE in the world.  That’s his title and when he’s had a particularly good conversation with a customer, there’s no doubt that’s the first thing he’ll say.  We all roll our eyes.  Yes dear, we know.  But he could gain 300 lbs and while he’d be mad at himself, it would just not affect how worthy or loveable he believed himself to be.  Maybe there is a number over which that’s not true, but you get my point.  What I’m trying to say is – I don’t think he’d ever have the feelings I described above.  Ever.  No matter what he saw in the mirror. 

He’s put on weight in the last decade or so, but maybe it’s because he didn’t grow up that way?  Or is it a societal man/woman thing where the value on appearance is so much higher for women than men?

I realize I’m rambling a bit here – but… what do you think about this stuff??

What's the band give you?

I struggle with this.  I'm analytical by nature; just plain curious too.  I want to understand things.  I want to really figure out how things work.

I've not experienced the band's G-Spot (from Sandy Lee a cross between the Green zone and the sweet spot).  I believe it exists.  I'm not sure I believe it exists for everyone - that answer is yet to be discovered.  When I was too tight for about a week a few months ago - I truly didn't think of food - it just wasn't on my radar, not even a little bit.  It was very, very odd and it's why I believe it exists.  (Did I mention I'm a doubting Thomas too or in a more positive light an experiential learner).  However during that time, I really struggled getting water down before early afternoon so it wasn't something I could sustain and thus not any kind of G-Spot.  But, I've still managed to lose 45 lbs (I'm going with my ticker here, damn it) and I'm feeling pretty confident with some hiccups here and there, it's gone for good.

I struggle every day with same food demons I have struggled with my entire life.  Nothing's changed about that.  Maybe it will some day, maybe it won't.  I've been toying around with the idea of therapy for a variety of reasons and the fact that I believe concretely that my weight is 100% rooted in mental issues and not in eating issues is certainly one of them.  But the point to my post is... what is the band giving me?  What about the band has me losing some weight and feeling confident about it?

And for me - I think the band does not help me lose weight.  I think the band helps me not gain weight.

I truly believe that fat people on the whole are more nutritionally educated then the general population.  We've read zillions of books, listened to lots of people, read articles, tried a variety of things for a variety of reasons.  So it's not as if we didn't know what we should do.  How we should've eaten, how often, what portion sizes we should have had.  How often to exercise, what kinds we should do.  What things help metabolism, yadda, yadda, yadda.  It's the actually doing it consistently, day in and day out - that is where we got/get hung up.  For me it was always about self sabotage - as soon as I'd be in a good sustainable groove my evil self would notice and quickly run to the kitchen an eat a bagel with butter and cream cheese - or maybe two.   If I could find some chips and cheese and make a plate of nachos as well, well all the better.  The only times I ever ate nachos or bagels was during these times, well I suppose I've eaten a few bagels in my life for breakfast, but very few and very far between.   But as soon as I inhaled all that food, phew, I'd go right back to eating the sensible, good, real, healthy food that I truly enjoy.

I could honestly say that for the most part - my breakfast, lunch, and dinners were on the whole good healthy things - and have been for years.  Things that I could eat for the rest of my life at a perfectly normal weight.  It was just the in between times - the times when I wasn't hungry, but afraid of succeeding that kept me way overweight.  (It's that whole fear of succeeding thing that is rattling around thinking about therapy).  But... The band doesn't let me eat a plate full of hastily created nachos (though just typing this is making me think I should give it a try god damn it) or two quick bagels (or really two quick anything).  So - I can eat how I normally eat.  Relatively well - even better I think as there was a period after the Johns Hopkins program where I was eating a lot of protein bars and I've definitely gotten out of that habit.  But fear or no - I can't eat the things that I used when my evil side needed to step up and freakin say - no way Jose! to getting to my goals.  I can still eat a bunch of shit when I'm afraid - melted chocolate and peanut butter are no match for the band - but it's just not the same.  The band keeps the sabotage from really, truly working.  It keeps my progress excruciatingly slow, but it doesn't reverse it - and that's a very beautiful thing.  I sort of feel like I'm going to hop from one good willpower place a place where in my past life I would have lost a bunch of weight (and I will in my current life too) to just sustaining (especially if I keep my weights posted publicly) when in the past life I would have gained and in the current life I'll just maintain.  And I think I'm more than okay with that.  If at some point I discover that I too can experience this mythic G-spot - well maybe that will play a role too.

So... I'm not sure what the real point of this is - other than I guess I wonder, what does the band give to you?

Do you have an evil alter ego?

Do you ever get the feeling you’ve been possessed by a hungry, less sane person than yourself?  One who can ignore all your (the sane one) admonitions that eating one more bite (or 236) is too much?  One who thinks nothing of having peanut clusters before breakfast?  One who stupidly goes grocery shopping while starved and buys a cake mix – just for the hell of it?  One who has a couple of bites – protein first – of the huge cobb salad she bought for lunch and proceeds to throw them back up… But… continues to eat every single bite?  One who’s so full she’s wildly uncomfortable, nearly doubled over as she’s scouring the kitchen for something sugar filled to eat?  One who flat out ignores that there is a medical device implanted inside your body to help keep you from massively overeating?  One who has a very excited a-ha moment when she remembers there is a cake mix and quickly makes the cake batter before anyone can come and remind her that she’s full to the point of bursting?  One who sits down with a spoon with the bowl of batter and does her best to cram some more in?

Yeah, me neither.

A pity party and the man of steel... sort of.

I've got these two posts rumbling around in my brain - and one's about annoyance and having a little pity part and the other is about scary things like feeling vulnerable.  Which one do you think I chose today?

So... I'm totally annoyed.  I keep seeing people I haven't seen in a while and think someone will notice I've lost 40lbs AND I keep having these annoying conversations where people are talking about how they've recently lost weight and no one, okay almost no one - my husband, my best friend, my mother and my sister have all noticed.  Of course they know me best so they have a little handicap in that area and my husband and sister both know... so it's not actually no one.

I hate, hate, hate being the center of attention (unless I'm in complete control and using my antics to distract you from really seeing me - but that's a whole different thing - maybe part of the other post).  So really I don't like it when people comment or say things about my weight.  Part of the reason is then it is confirmed that they had previously noticed I was fat(er).  I'd just as soon we all pretend that's not true, okay?  But mostly it's because I just don't want to be the focus of the conversation - of the attention - of anything. 

But when I got near about 30 lbs down I did my best to become prepared for the inevitable comments that were to come at some point.  I know I won't like it, but it's human nature so I can suck it up and say thank you very much.. or yes, I've been watching what I eat and exercising more... yadda yadda yadda. 

But jesus h christ... nada... nothing... zip, zilch, and zero.  I feel like I'm sitting here ready, hanging on the edge of something, geared up for the appropriate reponse and it's never going to come. 

I'm sure it has something to do with losing as slowly as I am, but still.  I was at the copier yesterday with a coworker who has had this cronic problem with her knee and had to be on steriods for several years.  Several months ago they discovered this other medication that is working miraculously for her and she was able to stop using the steriods.  She was talking about what a relief it was that she didn't have to take them anymore and how she had lost 30 lbs since October because of it.  Can you believe it, 30 lbs!  It's amazing, I feel great.... Uh, yeah.  I can kind of imagine it since I've just lost FORTY you freaking moron.  And no, I've not said anything to her, but if I had been talking about my weight to her, I certainly would have commented on hers. 

Today, in the office, I'm wearing regular size pants and they fit great.  Several months ago I was wearing size 20W and they were tight.  Do I still have a long way to go, absolutely, but hello...

Then I was at a parent teacher conference (Draz totally gave me the push to go as I ususally let Brad handle them) yesterday and we went and talked to Teddy's 5th grade teacher from 2 years ago.  I'm probably 30lbs less than the last time she saw me, unless we've passed in the halls or something.  And she immediately starts talking about this great program she and many of the other staff are using at the school called gameon - there's even a website and you get points for eating well and exercising - She's lost 10lbs, she's walking 1 1/2 miles a day.  She feels great!    If I'm ever interested in something like that she highly recommends it. 

okay yeah, thanks.  I did 2 miles at 6 this morning, but I'll definitely keep it in mind.

I like both of these women very much.  Neither of them are snarky or bitchy in the least.  They both were just honestly talking about what's going on with them. 

I totally know I look different.  I'm going to have to post some before and now (I'm stealing that from Angela) pictures.  It's getting annoying people.  Okay, pity party officially over (for now).


On a totally different topic.  I'm getting ready for work this morning and into the bathroom walks my husband.  Wearing only underwear, this is not new.  Superman underwear - this... this is new.  OMG I laughed so hard.  I got a hold of myself and started to put on my makeup only to turn around to ask him a question and then lost it all over again.  They are deep superman blue with a bright red waistband.  I posted a picture back in December when he bought them.  I had tears streaming down my face.  He left the room and came back in wearing plain, ordinary underwear. 

Why did you change? I asked him.  Because you were laughing at me.  Okay now I felt badly.  But honey, funny's not bad, it's just funny.  The last time I saw someone wearing superman underwear, I'm pretty sure Jackson was about four.  Okay, he said feeling a little better.  Geesh!

The Treadmill Progression - and a couple other things

This decade sucks
So - I've been hanging out in the 190s for three months now.  I'm tired of being here.  I've toured all I can tour.  I go up, I go down - but always within this little range.  I'm bored now.  Let's move on, shall we?

BOOBs II
I'm so freaking excited I can't stand myself.  I am looking forward to meeting each and every one of you!  Anyone for a cocktail????  I'm ready!!

The Treadmill Progression
I'm working my way back up the exercise mountain.  I don't know about any of you, but I can tell how I'm doing by how I pass the time while on the treadmill.  Stage one: Reading a book- while in this stage I can read a book.  It's not the easist thing in the world to read, but I can do it and I totally get caught up and all of a sudden it's 30 or 40 minutes in.  I am walking at a brisk pace, but it's not really taxing me yet - but my body and mind are getting used to the time and effort and routine - I've passed this stage and moved onto the next. 

Stage two: Good drama.  I can't read anymore, though I still really want to - so sometimes I'll still try and end up getting seasick.  Can you get treadmill sick?  In this stage I watch an hour long drama that I like.  I used to be able to FF through the commercials and I'd end up with a 45 min workout by the time the credits rolled.  But we just switched to Fios and if I'm watching "on demand" which is cool to be able to do, I can't FF, but the commercials are shorter - so it ends up at about 50 min.  Right now, I'm catching up on Castle and will then likely move on to Bones.  This is the stage I'm on now.  I'm still walking, but at a fast pace, and I'm sweating and I'm thinking about adding in intervals of running, though I'm not ready for that yet.

Stage 3 - bad drama.  The time committment is the same, though sometimes I'll add to it - but I am putting forth too much effort to really catch every nuance in a drama that I really enjoy; you know, the byplay between Castle and Becket - a raised eyebrow, a stare - that kind of thing.  So I switch to dramas that I don't like as much.  Where I don't have to pay constant attention to still get the drift of what's going on.  I'm almost here, so I'll be switching to Haiwaii 5-0 soon or maybe CSI - they both fill this niche for me.

Stage 4 - Realty TV.  I'm doing intervals of running and I'm sweating like a pig and barely hanging on to life as I know it - but it feels amazing.  There's no way I can concentrate on a drama.  I'll miss whole segments and then I'm lost and annoyed.  So I switch to Reality TV.  I love American Idle, Project Runway, and So You Think You Can Dance so between those and all the many, many other choices that just don't take any brain power - I'm totally set for this place.

It was really nice when I moved to the "Dramas I like" stage.  It reminded me in this concrete way - this is a journey - I'll get there; both to stage 4 and also out of this frickin' decade.

The wake-up call

Why do we need them?  I don’t know about the rest of you, but it sort of pisses me off that I do.  I’ve been struggling for a couple of weeks now.  It all goes back to this new fill.  I have ½ cc more in me now than I did before, and in some respects I am tighter.  I definitely have a harder time eating in the morning.  But for the most part, it’s opened the world of food back up for me.  I hadn’t eaten any pasta, bread, or rice since surgery because that was a rule my doctor gave me; none of that for six months.  He says that those three things more than most others expand and that’s not a good idea while still getting used to your little stoma.  When the six month mark came, I had enough restriction that I was still afraid to try eating it. 

Then I got this fill and well slowly but surely I’ve been able to eat…. Anything.  Nothing is off limits.  And if I eat slowly enough, sometimes I can eat way more than I should be able to with no issues whatsoever.  Of course on other days I can’t get past bite two before I’m done, but that’s just the fickle nature of the band I think. 

I didn’t really eat a lot of pasta, bread, and rice before the surgery – it’s just not my thing.  But as I’ve been able to eat – really just capable – I’ve been seemingly experimenting non stop.  We just celebrated Christmas with my dad and step mom this weekend (yes, I know it’s February) and we ordered some pizza for the kids and some chicken pasta pesto for the grownups.  I fully expected to eat a few bites of the chicken and call it a day.  I wasn’t at all worried about it.  I knew Dad and Pat wouldn’t notice how little I was eating and if they did, an easy comment or even lie would placate them.

But then I had trouble telling the pieces of chicken and the penne apart – it was all the same sauce color and the same size-ish – and I had a few bites of pasta.  And guess what?  My stoma didn’t explode.  In fact, it went down with no problem at all.  When I had the chicken which was totally dry, that was a little dicey, but the pasta – no problem whatsoever.  So, of course I had more pasta.  Then, Brad and I took the left over pasta home with us – added more sauce because it was a little dry and I had more of it all weekend long.  Hell, I hadn’t had a bite of pasta in more than seven months – this was totally cool to me.

I had forgotten to do my weigh in on Friday, but had weighed myself last Wednesday which marked seven months since surgery and I was back in the right direction at 192.8.  Then the experimentation hit full swing.  OMG.  I can eat pasta.  That probably means I can eat sushi too – though I haven’t tried that one, maybe even ½ a sandwich.  Okay – really I have to back up.  I learned about the pasta over the weekend…. But the pizza.  I swear to god – honest to goodness pizza – that was on Thursday or Friday. 

Brad was away and there was a fundraising night for Jack’s school at a local pizza place.  I carefully reviewed their menu online from work and ordered a salad for me and some pizza for the boys.  Weeeellllll… I ate my salad – which I think must be a super band expanding food for me – and decided to take a bite of the pizza (which I also hadn’t had any of in seven months) and guess what.  I had no problem with it at all.  None.  I ended up eating 2 ½ pieces of pizza – and not any mamsy pamsy thin crust either – without even the tiniest comment from my band. (and of course this was after I ate the entire salad which I thought I’d only be eating a little bit of).  Holy shit, I had a whole salad and 2.5 pieces of pizza for dinner.  Are you kidding me?  How is that even possible?

Then we went onto the weekend where I had pasta – drenched in a creamy pesto sauce I might add.  Anyway – to the wakeup call.  Oh wait.  Have I been working out?  um… nope.  I even took Drazil’s challenge to workout the remaining – oh 6 or so days of January… I failed the first day.  I’d love to say it was all because I hurt my shoulder, but that would be a big fat lie.  There were probably a couple days in there where even the treadmill would have hurt my arm, but for the most part it was shear laziness.  I hate being lazy.

So to the wake-up call.  I have always weighed myself on Monday mornings – for many, many years.  Only since the band have I started making Friday’s my official weigh in day – but I still dutifully record my weight every Monday morning – of course it’s on a spreadsheet that goes back for years.  Well, my friends, I couldn’t do it.  I couldn’t make myself get on the scale on Monday morning.  I was too afraid of what the number might be.  Did you see what I ate?  Can you imagine?  But on Tuesday I had to do it.  I was afraid of continuing to not get on the scale – fearing that would start a big huge unstoppable slide back to where I started or worse.  (The other thing not getting on the scale is a sign of for me - is running away - like I do with blogging I think too - sometimes I only blog about the good stuff (band wise) and I really think that's unhealthy for me.  I need to just get it all out there - the good and the bad.  I just don't want to hide anymore.)

I got on the scale on Tuesday morning totally fearing I’d see a number that started with a 2 again.  And I did – but only for a second while it settled on its final number of HOLY SHIT 199.8.  OMG.  Seriously OMG.  So, I decided drastic measures were called for – something to whack my system back to where it needed to be.  I did liquids yesterday – I had plenty of protein – just all in liquid form.  Today I’m back to my normal if boring mostly protein food that I eat during the week.  I exercised yesterday and this morning.  I think the call (or weight, as it may be) woke me up sufficiently.  I don’t want to go back there.  Apparently it’s pretty easy to do – band or not.  Usually this current fill level doesn’t let me eat much – the pizza night was a total anomaly – but it does let me eat whatever the hell I want.  This is a good thing.  But it’s a very scary thing too.  We’ll see how it goes. 

The story of the accidental big girl fill...

As you may know I've had issues with my band doctor and have decided I need to change doctors.  I think I've even identified the doctor I want to change to (in fact a friend of mine who I met through the stupid support group meetings has already changed from our Dr. Weird (as she named him) to this new doctor).  However, this is my busy season at work and I can't do much of anything during January beyond work (like blogging) and knew it would be a while before I even make the initial call to see if he takes my insurance and will take me as a new patient and whatnot. 

I decided it would be prudent to call Dr. Weird and make an appointment just in case the other one doesn't work out as it usually takes 6-8 weeks to get an appointment.  I figured by the time the appointment came around I could always cancel it if I needed to.  I called on Monday and they had an opening today (3 days later).  I hesitated, but decided.. what the hell.  If it does end up that I stay with Dr. Weird even for the short term, a new baseline weight (where I wasn't trying to be heavier than I am) and an uneventful appointment would probably be a good idea for any future appointments.

I've been at a pretty good place restriction-wise, but I've thought I could probably use a tiny little fill, but not so much that I was willing to fight for it as has proven necessary in the past.  I almost wore a dress to work today knowing I would not be getting a fill so it didn't matter.  At the last minute I decided to put on pants because I was willing to get a small fill if somehow the world shifted and he'd turned human.  But I was still totally planning to tell him that; yes, my appetite has magically gone down, and that no, I didn't really need a fill. 

So, I get there and he says.... so you've lost 14 lbs in the last 10 weeks.  (I'd lost less than a pound a week when I'd been there last time and we had that huge battle).  I did my best to remain completely quiet unless he asked me a question.... just ready to smile, and nod and tell him everything is going great!  He asked the normal questions about water and protein intake and exercise and I answered honestly - I'm still mostly doing all the right things.  He asked about my appetite and I told him I think the last fill had really helped with the appetite (there was not a hint of 'I told you so' in my voice).  He asked about the quantity of food I could consume and I told him honestly that I could no doubt eat more than 1 cup of food at a time, but I was generally not.

Then......

Dr. Weird: So, do you think you need a fill?
Me: (shaking my head) No, not really.  I'm in a pretty good place.  I could probably stand a very small fill of .1 or .2 ccs, but I'm pretty happy with where I am. 
Dr. Weird: (stared silently at me waiting for me to continue)
Me: uh... (smiling trying to project the love between us) Um. I don't really think I need one, but would be willing to get a very small one if you thought that was a good idea. 

(at this point I was thinking, Hell, I think he's going to give me a fill - and all because I appealed to his obviously small penis by suggesting I really didn't know what was best for me - internally I was totally shaking my head)

Dr. Weird:  okay, well let's give you one.

well, knock me down and slap my ass (please!)

Me: okay.  (I'm glad I didn't put that dress on)

He gets the stuff ready and I hop up on the table and he does his stuff and when he's done I ask.

Me: So, how much did you put in (dirty)?

DW: 1.5 ccs

(Holy Big Girl Fill Batman!!!!!!!)

Me: HOLY COW!!!! (I caught the SHIT before it jumped out of my mouth, but didn't manage to remotely hide the complete shock from my face and tone of voice).

(I was thinking, OMG, my period starts in the next day or two and so I'm already at my tightest which is pretty dang tight at this time of the month and he just put in nearly 40% more than I already had.  This isn't going to work.)

He gives me some water to drink and the first few sips seemingly go down well.  But I had purposely taken TINY sips. He was watching me very closely, I'm sure because of my earlier 'holy cow'.  We went back and forth about whether it was really going down and after less than 2 oz of the tiniest sips possible the gurgling gassy noises started popping out as the air was trying to make room for the water.  I asked him if this didn't work out, if in a couple of days I couldn't eat anything besides liquids how would he handle that, totally thinking he'd do a total unfill, but he said he'd probably take out about half of what he'd just put in (dirty).  But after another few sips it was clear the water wasn't really going down.  So I hopped back on the table and he took out .5cc and the water went down fine. 

So in summary, last time when I really thought I needed a fill he barely gave me .5cc which was a fine size for me, but a seemingly big fucking deal to him and this time when I was pretty fine with where I was though suggested a .1 or .2cc fill was probably an okay thing he started at 1.5cc - WTF????  So I went in thinking there's no way in hell I'm getting a fill (and perfectly happy with that) to getting 25% more added to my band.

I'm telling you, it was a total accident, I swear!  I'm on liquids for 2 days then 2 days of mushies and given TOM's impending arrival I'm going to religiously stick to that and then we'll just have to see.

My New Year's Intentions list..... oh boy.

I really like the idea of a list of intentions - not so much resolutions,  that feel so much more... permanent...  pass or fail... good or bad.  Whereas intentions is more like - where do you want to head?  More like - what's your direction going to be vs. what's the end result going to be... yeah, that's it.

Okay so....

1. I want to work on simplifying my life.  Purge those things I don't love or don't need.
2. I'm going to let out my inner neat freak.  Because I suffer from PSDS I had to let go of my need for everything to be in its place.  It was just too stressful.  Especially when I had kids, some things needed to go if I was going to remain sane. Well my youngest is now 10 and I just can't live this way anymore.  Things are clean, but there are always.  Always.  piles of shit here or there.  Mail that just hasn't been put away, stuff that needs to go upstairs, school papers that need to be filed.  The balance changed a while ago, but it took me a long time to figure it out.  It used to be more stressful to worry about that stuff while the kids were young and we were both working (I'm not the superwoman that others are) - but now it's more stressful not to worry about that stuff.  I was able to keep Betty, my inner neat freak, locked away in one of my secure boxes in my brain and ignore her.  But the kids require less constant stuff; they can feed and dress themselves - that kind of thing and I can now hear Betty kicking and screaming to get out.  Watch out world, I'm letting her out.
3. I want to lose a bunch of weight.  I don't want to be more specific than that because I don't think I'll know where I want to get to until I'm there.  I do know that I want to step up my efforts for the next 20 lbs.  When I lost a bunch of weight several years ago I got down to 175 and felt really good there.  Not that I wanted to stay there, but I felt good.  I want to step up my efforts until I get back there.  Then I can continue on with my original weight loss efforts and we'll see what we see.
4. I want to get back to the workout mama I used to be.  I love to sweat.  I love to work out and I want to get back to it seriously.  (for those of you who don't - I didn't used to love it, but one day I told myself it would be easier if I did, so I decided that I loved it.  I would literally cheer when the first bead of sweat would trickle down somewhere.  Every time I worked out I reminded myself I loved this feeling.  Over time I noticed the things that truly were wonderful about it; sleep, energy, mood, etc.  And I just started believing the hype.  Even though it was my hype - I wore myself down.  If I can do it, I swear so can you.  Give it a try, I dare you.)  (but you will need to commit to this "experiment" for a year or more)
5. I want to have a better sense of what I want from my husband and marriage.  Where I think we're going.  I think, even if I decide I can't keep doing this, I'm not going to go anywhere.  It's not so awful and I just don't want to do that to my kids when they are in or nearing puberty.  Not to mention my husband has given me permission to have sex with other men.  Which I suppose is a whole different post - but it is what it is.  I'd never do anything behind his back.  But maybe at some point in the next year - we'll go to counseling, or I'll decide I can't keep trying anymore and find someone else who can meet some of my emotional needs, or we'll figure out how to be happy together again.  This one is really part of number 1 above; I want to simplify.  And right now, it's just not simple. 

Okay, that's way more than enough!!!

Happy New Year to everyone.  I'll throw out some more MIL stories tomorrow!

PSDS and BFD and a goal

So for that last post, there was other stuff but I got totally derailed.

Anyway – let’s talk goals and milestones, shall we?

I am not a goal setter.  I think it’s in large part because I suffer from Perfectionist Self Doubter Syndrome, that’s PSDS to the rest of the world.  If I were to set a goal to clean my room that room would be frickin’ amazing when I was done.  You could eat off any surface, the drawers would all be perfectly organized, socks filed arranged by color, hanging clothes all equidistant apart and arranged by both color and how far from the bar they hang.  I could go on and on.  And on and on and on.  But the point it – over time this compulsion only got worse and for a while it kept me from cleaning my room at all because unfortunately life would continue on while I was cleaning so I could never get it “done”.  There was always laundry or something so all the socks weren’t in the drawer, and all the stuff wasn’t available to be hung up – and not being able to “finish” – that was a serious problem.  It would weigh on me for days, or maybe decades.  The perfectionist part of PSDS is a toughie.  Over time I learned to narrow the goal.  Clean the closet.  Organize the sock drawer.  That kind of thing.  The rest was way too overwhelming. 

This leads me to weight loss goals.  Never!  I’ve absolutely never ever set one.  And that’s the SD part of PSDS.  If I can’t be absolutely sure I will reach the specific goal at the appointed time well.. the world as I know it will end.  I don’t know what that means – but it’s a BFD.  (okay a tangent about my mom.  I’m in college and my mother (the woman who gave birth to me) comes to visit.  During that visit something happened that would have resulted in a college student saying ‘big fucking deal’ – My mom, who’s always been more kid than mom didn’t skip a beat and started miming.  Yes, I said miming.  She first put her hands WAY far apart, then made a circle with her left thumb and forefinger and repeatedly stuck her right forefinger in the circle and back out and in and out and in and out – I think you get the picture.  Then she mimicked dealing cards. – From that point forward that was how all my friends and I said B.F.D. through the rest of college – so now I can’t think of Big Fucking Deal without seeing my mom do that – okay end of tangent.)

So, no weight loss goals.  So like all of you, I’ve dieted and I’ve tried a variety of things with varying levels of short term successes, but I’ve done it all on the Q.T.  Shhhhh.  Don’t tell anyone – least of all me – that I’m doing this – because, what if I can’t.  What if I fail?  Then what?  That does not go with the P in me.  Failure is not an option – so that means goals are not an option.

I think I need to come out of the closet.  I need to be less hush hush and more clear – at least to myself – maybe not to the rest of the world – about some goals.  My first attempt was to join the Holiday Challenge.  I joined.  It was public.  Sure, none of you know me.  But some of you have read here – some of you would see my name; success or failure on the chart Kristin created.  I actively didn’t do anything special during the challenge.  It was really a whole different kind of challenge for me.  I wanted to see if my reaction could be a calm one.  Just continue to go on about my business – or was I going to freak the fuck out?  Was I going to immediately eat chocolate morning, noon, and night?  Because if I can’t succeed, I will fail spectacularly.  It will be the mother of all failures.  It will be the best, most impressive failure that’s ever been seen.  That’s really the whole PSDS in me – the mother of all failures – yup, that’s me.

Okay – the point is – I joined this thing, and I didn’t die.  I said it out loud.  I sent in my weights.  I did just fine.  God forbid I put some effort into it – that would have been way, way, way too much for my first little foray into the world of goals – but I did it and it was fine.  It was fun even.  I found a bunch of new blogs to follow – I was thrilled as others had big successes.  I rooted hard for those who were struggling.  It was a group thing and I liked it.  A lot.  Who knew?

Well I set this goal for myself.  I’m setting an achievable goal.  But one I’ll have to work for.  I think it’s okay to do this, because I truly think I’m okay if I don’t make it – and that’s the point.  I hope that’s the point.  I’m not hiding it.  I’m telling myself about it.  I have a calendar in my closet where I count down the days to some future thing and on it I track my weight and my exercise (sorely lacking in December, btw).  I’ve been doing this for years.  Well I’ve put my goal in black and white for me to see every damn day.  This is a huge BFD for me.  Seriously big.  But there it is.  My name is Read and I suffer from PSDS – the first step in getting better is admitting you have a problem. 

My goal is to loose 50 lbs by the 7 month bandiversary.  To weight 185 or less by February 2, 2011.  Now you know too – shhhh, don’t tell anyone.

I need some advice about my wacko doctor...

When I was at my last disastrous appointment as a matter of course I made another appointment for December 22nd - which you might know is coming up.

I've been wrestling with whether or not I should keep the appointment and it just dawned on me - duh - that I could ask you guys for your opinion - so this is me asking...

In general, I feel like I'm probably at a pretty good fill level and I'm not having any current issues that I'd want to discuss with a doctor whether I liked him or not.

In the "don't go" column are the following;

• I have no interest in him getting any more money related to me being his patient
• I think he's insane
• I'm not having any issues

In the "I should go anyway" column is;

• What if something happens and I need a doctor soon.
• I haven't yet found another doctor though I've been given a recommendation from my PCP and there's a FillCenter about 45 minutes away.  I just don't know if the recommended doctor will accept me - and I figured I'd deal with that whole thing after the holidays since everything seems to be going well enough band wise.
• What if I can't find another doctor?
• What if the FillCenter refuses to take me (I know that's stupid, but still)?

Really, I don't know that I mind going in that I'll just say - yes everything is fine, yes I'm eating correclty, yes I'm exercising... blah, blah, blah, and that'll be that.

Though I do have this recurring thought that I'll have lost enough weight that he'll think I need an unfill (as that's his only barometer) and we'll end up having an actual physical battle where he tries to force me to get one and I staunchly refuse.  I win, of course, in that little film that has played a few times in my head - but I leave and there is now no way he'd treat me anymore if there was an emergency. 

Yes, I get I'm a little paranoid about this and am way over thinking it - but... eh, it is what it is.  So, what do you all think?  Should I go just to keep him available in case something happens, or not since there is a FillCenter not that far away?

Thanks so much in advance for your thoughts!

Oh no he di 'int!

I’m the controller for my company and as such have worked closely for many years with a particular lovely gentleman named Randal, who is our… broker is the only work I can come up with and that’s true, but it’s more that he’s our advisor for all things benefits and insurance. We have specific benefits people we work with directly, but this man is a financial advisor by trade and works on our behalf with various benefits plans; 401k, life insurance, health insurance.. that kind of thing. He also provides to any employee at no expense to them personal financial planning and advice; from the simple to the complex. He’s an older gentleman with a rye sense of humor and I’m as fond of him as he is of me.

Well Brad contacted him a while ago because we decided to switch from term to whole life insurance and he’s our go-to guy. So we both had new little medical evaluations for the new insurance and of course my recent lap band surgery came up during the routine medical questions. (can you see where this is going) Now, Randal and I had previously joked about how privacy laws are such that he’s not allowed to even know who or when the medical tests are happening for Brad and me, only that they are happening.

So cut to this morning when poor Randal had to call me because the insurance company wanted more information than the medical testing people had provided them with. I haven’t told anyone at work and here Randal is asking me the date of my lap band surgery – what? Holy shit. I dutifully answered.

Randal: And were there any complications?

Me: Uh no, none.

R: And since then… um… have you had… have you… um… have you seen any difference since the surgery.

M: Yes

R: uh.. well.. that’s good. And what was your weight prior to the surgery?

M: (oh no he di ‘int! – you’ve got to be fucking kidding me). (In my most professional, we’re talking about a benefits statement voice) 235.

R: Okay and so your boys both have two middle names, right?

M: um.. yes, they do – we were shooting for the latest in WASP-iness apparently.

I’m almost over it – I’m truly not sure who that conversation was worse for; him or me, and now I need to decide if I care that he knows – I mean privacy laws wise – I don’t think I actually care that he knows – information wise. But geesh – that was totally not how I thought my Friday morning would start.

Wrap that rascal, an epiphany, and a heartfelt thanks

Wrap that rascal
There's been some talk about getting together with Bonnie and Linda as we all live fairly close to each other (I'm totally excited by this possibility but that's a whole different thing).  So I had run a possible date by Brad last night and it prompted this little convo with him this morning.

Brad: Who might you be going out with?

Me: I’m meeting some strangers I met on the internet.

B: (bursts out laughing) Make sure you wrap it up before you do anything.

M: (eye rolling – geesh) Actually, it’s true, They are strangers I’ve met on the internet.

B: WHAT?!

The Thanks!!!

So yesterday I really had to battle back some of my uglier demons after my Dr’s appointment.  Maybe the band just won’t work for me.  Maybe I’m doomed to be a failure.  Maybe I am in fact dumb and the fact that I felt like I was on a merry-go-round and we were just talking in circles was all me and not because he’s a tool.  Sure there’s a part of me that knows I was speaking clear English and had good, well thought out points of view and he was just being a total idiot and countering just about anything that came out of my mouth I’m thinking just to make himself appear superior – but the other part of me – the scared little fat kid that hides behind the big personality and all that fat – well she wasn’t so sure.  I could feel it wasn’t good so I pushed the entire appointment into one of my handy lid-less boxes in the back of my brain because I was afraid if I let myself think about it too hard or look too closely it would rock me off of my really good head-space.  You never know what it’ll take.
Anyway – I’m really wanting to say thank you, to all of you from the bottom of my heart.  My appointment yesterday rocked me for a while.  I blocked it out because I knew it was not a good thing for me and then I put it out there and gave it to you guys so I could get a sanity check.  I was prepared for you to say he was an idiot.  But I was also prepared for you to couch that with... “but he does have a good point about this or that…” because I feared it was just me.  But what you gave me, what I've consistently seen on blog after blog is just plain support. 

I can't tell you how much it means to me to just feel the love.  This is truly such a lovely and supportive community and each and everyone of you should feel proud at how well you represent it.  So thank you again, truly.

The epiphany
I'm smart.  It’s the one thing I always knew I could count on and it’s the thing that I feared more than anything not being true.  If I wasn’t smart then what the hell was I?  This is actually an epiphany for me – you are watching it take place right before your very eyes.  In my head I’ve never once doubted that I'm smart.  I’m not any kind of genius or anything crazy like that, but things have always come pretty easy to me.  I went through school and then college and wasn't ever really challenged.  If I ever did feel challenged I’d end up with the best grade in the class because I had to prove I was still smart.  If I wasn’t challenged I was just as likely not to show up and get a C (but that's a whole other story, I clearly had some issues here).  But the point is, smart was always the thing I knew I was – and yet, it’s the one button that can really rock me - as happened yesterday.  If someone can do something that calls my intelligence into question – it rocks me.  And (here’s the epiphany) – it’s because it was always the one thing I had - that I was really sure of.  “You’d be so pretty if you just lost the weight”  “You could excel at sports if  you just lost the weight.”  Yadda yadda yadda.  But I was smart.  So if you take that away – what’s left?  My sparkling personality??  Well as that was a fake for much of my life – that wasn’t very comforting…  

And okay I was dumb for choosing this particular doctor - but in my defense my husband picked him.  I don't really do people easily.  He is much better about reading people and much, much better about asking relevant medical questions when choosing a doctor so we decided that we'd find a doctor he was medically comfortable with that I didn't want to kill.  That was our criteria.  And while I didn't like him from the outset, I didn't think he was the true and serious idiot that I now believe him to be.

Okay - so there's my totally incoherent ramble for the day.

The good, the bad, and the ugly

The Good
I'm alive, I didn't kill anyone today, and I got a .5cc fill.

The Bad

On previous visits I was wearing a simple cotton skirt and a simple cotton t-shirt and stepped on the scale barefoot.  On this visit I was wearing long pants, suede boots (as they were my heaviest - I maybe, sort of weighed them), a short sleeved thin sweater and a heavy (again with the weighing) cardigan.  When I got there, I sort of put my big key ring in one of my pockets and my iphone in the other.  And then there were the sunglasses hanging off my sweater and the glasses I decided to wear (I usually only wear them when reading or in front of a spreadsheet at work).  Oh and there was the water I'd drunk so far that day and man oh man did I have to pee.

This morning at home I weighed 13.8lbs less than I weighed the last time I saw him.  This afternoon at the office I weighed 6lbs less than the last time.  I swear to God I was shocked that there was nearly an 8lb differential - but also secretly pleased as that put me at less than a lb per week in the 7 weeks since I'd been there.

The Ugly

So I'm in there with him and I'm telling him how I'm doing great on this restrictive diet I'm on, and how I'm following all his rules (I am a serious rule follower after all) but that I think I need a fill as I can definitely eat more than 1 cup of food, though I'm being really good about not doing that and I'm getting hungry in about 2 hours, maybe a little less after I eat.

Me:  For instance, I had 4oz of chicken salad just under 2 hours ago and my stomach just started growling.
Him:  Now, now now, a growling stomach is not a sign of hunger.  That's just air passing through your stomach.
Me: raised eyebrows (I can't do just one - which really annoys me) - uh.. it's not?  Cuz the rest of the world sort of thinks it is.
Him:  It can occasionally be that, but just stomach rumbling isn't a sign of hunger.
Me: Well of course not, but I can tell the difference in my own body.
Him: I'm not so sure you can. (well excuse the fuck out of me you pompous ass)
Me:  okay - I had 4oz of chicken salad just under 2 hours ago and I am feeling all the signs I attribute to hunger.

I believe he rolled his eyes at that point.

Him: let me show you the latest research (he leaves and comes back handing me a pamphlet from Realize with a section circled)  Read this.

"Research has shown that a more conservative

approach to adjustments in the first year

results in better long-term weight loss."

It has 2 sample patients with a month by month time line under both of them and on the conservative side the guy had 4cc in his 1st month and then an additional 1.75cc in month 4.

Me:  Okay, so the conservative patient had in month one what I have now.
Him: No, (shaking his head in a patronizing way as he takes it from me to show me how wrong I am).  You see..  Oh... wait.. um... (emphatically) Well he didn't get his first fill until 4 months and this is your 3rd fill.  All I'm saying is to go slow.

I manfully refrained from flipping him off at that point.


He continued on to tell me (I seriously pulled out a notebook and took notes) "The band is not designed to reduce hunger.  Its only purpose is to keep you from eating fast, not chewing your food well, and reducing your portion size."

I told him that I was only addressing the literature that I got from him.  The red, yellow, green thing.  That the yellow sign suggests you need a fill if you are getting hungry between meals or if you can eat more than a cup of food and well, since both of those things are true for me, I'm following what he's told me in the past and telling him what's going on with me.

I told him that while I'm not medical professional I have been doing a certain amount of research trying to more fully understand what I'm working with and it's a pretty consistent theme that having the band filled to some point which differs from person to person absolutely helps makes you feel satisfied longer after eating and how I was just trying to reconcile how all of the other information I'm getting from a variety of sources differs from what he says as I've chosen him to be my doctor.

I went on to tell him about the article that Fluffy directed me to on her blog called It's not about Restriction by Dr. Terry Simpson and how its main premise is "the purpose of the band is not restriction; the purpose of the band is to lose weight by suppressing the appetite"

His reaction; "That's complete baloney".  I did go on to explain that the article was designed to point out that those people with bands who are looking for restriction to mean that they are so tight it's hard to eat are missing the point - that they should be looking for it to help them stay satisfied longer. - That appeased him a little and while he wouldn't agree the band was designed in part to suppress appetite he did acknowledge that in some people there might be some help with that, but that in general appetite suppression is an entirely separate issue from the Band.

He suggested putting me on Fentermine. (I'm sure I'm spelling that incorrectly) if I'm truly getting hungry after 2 hours.  This is my lap band surgeon - suggesting to put me on drugs instead of giving me a fill to see if that works.  This is the 2nd visit in a row he's suggested putting me on drugs to deal with the fact that I get hungry within 2 hours of eating 4oz of chicken salad. 

 

I truly think he believes fat people are dumb.  I've had this impression to one degree or another since the first information session I went to and ultimately this is the problem.  I worked hard the whole time I was there to give off the impression that I was, in fact, dumb and needed his expert guidance to help poor pitiful little me and I think that's the only reason he gave me a fill.

While he was putting it in (that sound dirty which is gross given who I'm talking about) he said - see, you have to look at this, which I've got to say is kind of hard to see over my boobs, but I look and he's showing me how after he pushes in most of the cc he was planning on putting in and then lets go of the plunger thingy it slowly starts to push back out.  See!  Do you see that?  

Me: Uh, yeah.  

Him: Well that means your band is really tight, I'm only going to put in 1/2 cc.

Me: Okay.

Once it was in and I was up off the table (uh... dirty again) I said - so if being hungry after only a couple of hours is not a sign I need a fill, and being able to eat more than a cup of food isn't a sign - what is a sign?  

Him: If you are not losing weight. 

Me - I totally need to find a different practice.

More musing from my warped brain and a smooth hoochie coochie

First for the hoochie coochie 

I think success begets success which is one of the many, many reasons I love this community so much.  From time to time I read some of the history on your blogs.  It helps me see where people have come from and how they got to where they are.  We all have our ups and downs but you guys are just a big ‘ol group of success – how fantastic is that?  So sometimes I go back and see what you’ve done how you learned this or that.  

And… ooh the things you learn.  I don’t even remember on who’s blog I read this, but there was apparently quite a discussion about whether or not the old hoochie coochie is smooth and hair free.  And someone recommended Carson Magic Shaving Powder and Cream.  I just want to send out a big thank you to whoever’s suggestion that was, because I used it this weekend and it really did work like magic AND there were no bumps afterwards!!  Woo Hoo!  If and when there’s ever sex in my life again, my husband will thank you as well…. Or I guess maybe some nameless faceless man I can’t yet identify will thank you but that remains to be seen.

Now to the musings

I’ve always been a huge advocate for being your own best advocate.  Stand up!  Say what you want.  Be who you want.  Throughout my life people have been scared of me; scared of my confidence and determination.  Impressed by my iron will.  It’s all been a lie. 

We had this class in college, I don’t remember what it was called but it was only for seniors because the waiting list was so long.  It was a seminar led by this guru like guy that everyone wanted to be near.  Ultimately it was just a semester of honest talking.  A big, hulkin’ lacrosse player cried over his relationship with his dad, women talked about destructive relationships, things like that.  I thought it was an amazing class, but would have said I didn’t contribute too much.  I talked here and there, but no way in hell about anything personal – I was more a background singer. 

On the last day of class we all went around the room and talked about the one thing that had hit us most during the class.  No idea what I said, but when it came to the teacher we all hung on his every word; waiting to see what got to him most – and it was me.  I’m paraphrasing here but he said – I’ve been teaching for too many years to count and every so often I wonder why am I still doing it?  But then you encounter a student like this.  One who challenges what you know.  One who doesn’t fall into all the tidy little boxes you were so certain were all there was.  They make you want to keep going and learn more.  This student is so confident.  So sure.  It’s Read. I’ve never met someone so young, who was so sure of who they were, of where they were headed, so sure where they’ve been.  I didn’t know you could get there in 20 years and it’s truly adjusted how I look at all of you and what I’m here to offer.  I need to thank her for her presence here and for all she’s taught me this semester, It’s reenergized me.  It’s helped me remember exactly why I love teaching all over again.  I was stunned.  At first I thought, holy shit, I need to find out what he sees, maybe he can help me see it too.  But of course I was way too afraid to actually go talk to him and it didn’t take too long for my opinion of him to change – “Not him too”… God, how have I painted myself into this corner?  It’s all an act, how can no one see this?

When I was an RA in college I used to preach safe sex, I led the safe sex class thingies – I was very funny, I always carried condoms in my pocket to give to people.  Then at night I wasn’t practicing what I preached.  I would be horrified to bring up such a topic with a man. 

I’ve spent the nearly 20 years Brad and I have been together preaching to other women, not to settle.  If you want a man who will treat you well and share in the household chores or who will do X, Y, and Z – whatever that is, they exist.  Go out, have fun, but when it comes down to it, don’t settle.  Life’s too important to settle.  Have I done that?  This is my big fear.

He’s this amazing guy; funny, caring, thoughtful, interested.  He’s so completely involved in everything.  And on paper I didn’t settle for a single thing.  But for years, there’s been this thing in the back of my brain.  Even as I touted all his attributes and preached no settling is necessary.  Even as I watched people hold us up as the poster children for perfect marriages – “you really did find your prince charming, didn’t you?”  I’ve wondered.  Is this all there is?  And I don’t truly know what it is that I want, what I’m looking for.  I know I don’t want to be in charge.  Truly and spectacularly I don’t want to be in charge and I am. 

For many, many years we worked hard to keep the balance.  People say it can’t be done.  There has to be a leader when push comes to shove but we did it.  For more than 15 years we did it.  No issues.  We decided together.  It was in perfect balance.  We have a profound level of respect for each other and you couldn’t do it without that.  Was that the biggest lie of all?  I’m this big in your face feminist, but shit I don’t want to be in charge here too.  It’s hard enough to pretend in the rest of my life – you do it.  It’s not like I want to suddenly be a doormat; I just want to be President to his CEO. 

That’s the change we made a few years ago.  The change that pushed us closer then we’d ever been.  That was good for him and good for me separately and good for us together.  The lines of communication were wide open and clearly defined.  There was a connection, a closeness that you only read about.  But it was short lived.  As much as he wants it, he can’t seem to maintain it.  And ultimately it left a vacuum that I’ve had to fill.  Now I’m firmly in charge – of every bit of it.  I can’t handle this.  I don’t want this.

It wasn’t the only thing that got us here.  He had what I call a mid-life crisis a few years ago where he turned into a royal asshat for a while.  Something he’d never ever been.  And that ugliness was shocking and it was probably that shock that made me take a long hard look at the rest.  Ultimately I take the blame.  I let us live in a way that wasn’t comfortable for me for all that time.  I only cited the good stuff.  But now – as we look at each other – it seems like it would be so easy to just go back to the way it used to be.  He’s a great guy.  But I can’t seem to relax.  I feel like I have to cling to this thing.  This thing that won’t let me relax in my marriage right now.  Because if I relax and just it be, does that mean I’m going to go back to settling?