225

Once upon a time, about a decade ago, I sat in my room above my parent's garage and made up my mind that, despite my disability, my life wasn't done yet. Accordingly, I made a list of goals that I wanted to accomplish. There among bucket-list type items like "Travel To Gettysburg" and health-related goals like "Full Seizure Control" was this entry: "Weigh 225 pounds."

At the time, I only (ha!) weighed 275 pounds. The one-two punch of Depakote and lack of activity due to seizures had pushed my weight from a heavily muscled 240 pounds up to a flabby 280, and it had taken me over a year to sort of settle in at 275. I knew I wasn't ever going to be a gym rat again (ever tried a bench press while having a seizure?), but I figured if I could just lose 50 pounds I would be in decent shape again.

For the next 10 years, that day never came. It took my weight climbing over 300 pounds this year to get me to finally take the "heroic measures" (a medical term, not stating that I am in any way heroic) of surgery to deal with my obesity. Now, 50 days after my surgery, I have arrived at the goal that I set so long ago: 225 pounds. So, how do I feel about it?

In a word: Pfft.

You see, back when I picked the 225 goal weight, I had a specific physique in mind. Something like an NFL running back. You know, like this:

According to BMI, he was obese for his entire career.

Maurice Jones-Drew - 5'7", played between 205 and 215 pounds. Not that I was aiming too high or anything. Let's just say that, looking in the mirror today, the photo above is not what I am seeing.

My crashing weight loss is the main reason, of course. My body has had no chance to slowly adapt as it shrinks. Instead, my skin is left as an empty sack around large areas that once held much bigger fat deposits. My arms sag, my chest sags, my formerly beer-keg-sized belly now looks like a deflated beach ball, half-filled with jelly. All in all, 225 looks almost nothing like the picture I had in my head.

Now, my weight loss is presumably not done yet. But, if I am 75 pounds down, out of an expected 100-ish pounds of weight loss, most of the fat shedding has already occurred. Losing another 25 pounds at this point is not suddenly going to turn me into MJD.

As I have stated frequently, I didn't go into surgery for the purpose of improving my looks. I wanted increased energy, reduced blood pressure, and relief for my disintegrating joints - all of which I have already begun to see the benefits of. If my energy level is not as high as Lor's or my blood pressure is still not low enough to stop taking medications, I am still in a better place than where I was in February. But that 225 number has been in the back of my mind ever since I started this process. "Man, if I can just hit that weight - wouldn't that be something?"

It is certainly "something". But not exactly the something I envisioned. I think I would have been better off setting my goal as being able to bench-press the 225 pounds, rather than weigh it. Despite having lost a quarter of my starting body weight at this point, I can't help but be a little exasperated at how much work I still have to do.

Time To Head Back To The Resistance Bands,

- Hawkwind

Gone Forever?

"How Long Til I Can Eat This Again?"

The various "support group" message boards for those of us who have undergone bariatric surgery are interesting places. After a few weeks spent following the topics and concerns that get posted there, you begin to notice certain repetitive themes. "How long do I have to wait after surgery before I can start eating all my favorite foods again?" is a popular one. Another one that shows up regularly is some version of this: "Help! I am (X) weeks out from surgery, and I have only lost (Y) pounds! What am I doing wrong?"

But, the topic that tends to really catch my eye is the many versions of this: "I checked the scale this morning, and was down to (X) pounds!! That is (Y) pounds of fat GONE FOREVER!!"

Now, understand me here. Getting on the scale and discovering that you have passed a milestone weight is really exciting. Heck, my weigh-in this Monday put me under 230 pounds and had me smiling all day. But the second half of that celebratory sentence makes me a little nervous - "gone forever" doesn't really mean what many surgery patients seem to think it means.

The subject of recurrence of weight gain after bariatric surgery tends to be acknowledged but not really focused on by your surgical team. But the truth is out there: a high percentage of patients who go through surgery do suffer some amount of regain after the post-surgery honeymoon period ends. 

I really am not trying to be a Debbie Downer - if you lose one hundred pounds after surgery and gain 25 back, you are still 75 pounds ahead of where you were before you started and much healthier than you were to begin with. But the real problem is this: the "GONE FOREVER" mentality that is created during the initial 12 to 18 months of "easy" weight loss runs into the reality of the digestive system resetting after the surgical recovery period is over. Suddenly, that easy weight loss you have been enjoying ceases, and the numbers on the scale start to creep back up. Forever wasn't quite as long as you have thought it was going to be.

So, what causes regain? In a word: comfort. You get used to the easy weight loss of the honeymoon period and start to insert a few of your previously favorite foods here and there. You take a day off from your workout routine and it somehow turns into weeks away from the track or the gym. You stop diligently logging your food intake, and suddenly no longer have any real idea of what your intake is on any given day. There are many paths to regain, many traps along the road ahead.

What many of us fail to realise is that the obese person's body has actually changed over the years of carrying excess weight. Fat is no longer prioritized as a primary food source by the body, usually due to the high amount of carbohydrates entering the system. Fat cells have actually changed size - getting larger and becoming resistant to weight loss. Even our metabolism is in on the act, forcing periods of exhaustion in order to keep the activity level down. All of these things will work together to pounce and slap 10 pounds of extra weight back on our bodies the first time we stop paying attention. This weight gain usually leads to disappointment and depression. And we all know where we turn for comfort when we are depressed: comfort foods. It is a vicious cycle that can lead very quickly to undoing many months of hard, post-surgical work.

The solution? Don't ever look in the mirror and think "gone forever". Instead, be sure that you keep firmly in mind that your previous state of obesity is just waiting, biding its time, and hoping for the chance to re-introduce itself into your life. Keep moving, keep logging, and keep avoiding "empty" calories. You have not signed up for a "One Year and Done" solution. You have committed to a life long change in your behavior. The only forever will be the one you create on a daily basis.

The Correct Answer To The First Question Is "Never",

- Hawkwind

The Imaginary Battle

Photo Credit: superexerciseband via Compfight cc

Another glorious Monday morning. While the majority of the world is shaking off the weekend and heading off to work, here we are hyperventilating and preparing for our weekly meeting with the scale.

It probably hasn't been a great week for weight loss. We were dealing with emotional trauma to begin with, then spent a couple days out of town and away from our normal food and fitness routine. Given that we also have a nutritionist visit to look forward to this week, it feels a bit grim looking forward to the weigh-in later this morning. The horror stories of those who gained weight during the pre-operative period and were then unable to have the surgery are never far from my mind.

Something is sure happening to my physiology, though - everything is headed down. My chest, my belly, the undersides of my arms - it is all collapsing, making me look like a fat scarecrow dressed in wet sheets. I hate this look quite a bit - maybe even more than I hated the "over-inflated beach ball" look I had for years. To combat this, over the weekend I bought myself a resistance band set, intending to start on some low-end strength training, and hopefully begin to firm this mush up. I opened up the box, inflated the ball, tested out the bands, and left them in position in the living room, ready to be used.

And there they still sit, 3 days later. I even thought to go hit them this morning before I began writing, but decided to just sit here and worry about my weigh-in instead. Many self-help gurus will tell you that imagination leads to actualization or something like that: visualizing yourself doing a thing helps to actually do it. Well, I have visualized till the cows came home then got up and left again for work the next day, and have still not done a single thing. For me, it is far easier to imagine doing something (and feel warm and fuzzy for my outstanding plan) than it is to actually do a new thing (and discover that this is not warm and fuzzy at all, but is, instead, work.)

I do realize that my own body is working against me here. The body seeks homeostasis - stability in all its operations. In the last few months, I have reduced my diet, increased my cardiovascular excercise, changed my sleep patterns, and replaced daily hours of sitting still with hours of some kind of activity. This does not represent stability, and my body is certainly not interested in adding yet another upset by attempting to rebuild muscle tissue on top of everything else. But I arrived at obesity by not seizing the reins of my body's functions all those years ago, and need to continue to overcome stability and laziness every day.

Sigh. I am afraid I just argued myself into going to the living room and designing an exercise band workout routine. Think good thoughts for me as I am sure I will be quite disgusted with myself for not being able to handle a 3-pound resistance band workout.

Already Feeling The Burn,

- Hawkwind

PS - Thank you to everyone who responded to our loss of Frankie last week. We received literally hundreds of supportive messages, emails, and Facebook comments. Misdirected has the best readers in the world.

Resistance Training

So, over the weekend, I ended up adding a little extra weight to my exercise regimen. No, I didn't have an all-you-can-eat pizza party last week or anything like that. No, what I did instead was this:

Some background: Vixen, the dog pictured above, has had a very sore butt for over a year now. It is so sore that she will not use the bathroom unless "helped" by taking her for a walk. So, for over a year now, I have been having to walk her every single day. She seems to equate being walked on a leash with taking care of her digestive business, so she spends a few moments in discomfort, then continues on her way, happily exploring the neighborhood. Weird.

Now, before the howls of outrage start, we have already taken her to the vet. Several times in the last year. The vets are just as mystified as we are as to what the problem is. In fact, we are going back to the vet's office today to pick up yet another medication to try on her to see if we can bring her some permanent relief.

Back to the picture above: our walks had typically been just under half a mile - just around the block where we live works out to .44 miles. This has been pretty much the only type of exercise I have been able to do, and even something this minor has tended to take me about 20 minutes, putting me on pace for a leisurely 1.2 miles/hour walking speed. Carrying 300 pounds around any distance is hard.

However, since Lor joined our walks and I started the pre-surgical diet the walks have been getting a little longer (and a little faster) every day. Yesterday morning, we made the decision that we were going to try a new, slightly longer route. Everything was going swimmingly until, at about 1.2 miles in, Vixen sat down, and refused to go any further. She had enough walking for one day, thank you very much.

Undaunted, we stuffed her in the backpack and walked the rest of the way home. I was surprised at how calm she was - just sorta hanging out, watching the sights, no resistance or struggle at all. I was also surprised at how much I felt a 5 pound Chihuahua on my shoulders and back. You wouldn't think 5 pounds would amount to much, but boy, did I know she was there. Guess it is time to start adding some push-ups to the old fitness routine.

If you have a family dog and are finding it difficult to get motivated to start a daily workout, walking your dog is a perfect entry point. Every single day I have had no choice but to get up off my ass and take her for a cruise around the neighborhood. I am allowed no excuses, no "I don't feel like going to the gym today", no other lame arguments as to why I shouldn't get active on any particular day - the dog has to be walked, and that is that. Though I feel bad for her butt-related problems, I am also kind of grateful that this has forced mobility on me all this time - I might be at 350+ if I had not been doing any physical activity at all. Now there is a sobering thought.

Wondering What Will Happen When We Get To 5 Miles A Day,

- Hawkwind