Things I used to believe

Many things I used to believe about the world, I don’t anymore. That’s not to say I’m more cynical now than I was at 16 … if anything I’m more hopeful. It’s just that I grew up with a lot of preconceived notions about things I really did not understand. Take, for instance, elective bariatric surgery.

I used to believe this was the easy way out for the extremely overweight. It’s for people who just don’t want to do the work that it takes to lose the extra pounds, I thought. Cutting into one’s abdomen to surgically establish a new, smaller stomach organ to prevent a person from overeating is just barbaric and gruesome and not the way nature intended us to undo the damage we do to ourselves by eating too many cheeseburgers. That, or the procedure is for those rare people with genuine thyroid disorders, and who therefore can’t shed weight by simply eating less and exercising more.

In the last several months, the proverbial scales have fallen away.

Not to get too psycho-babbly, but one reason I may have been so dismissive of these elective procedures is because I tend to be so hard on my own self. I work very hard for weeks at a time to eat healthful foods and stay active, and then when the work doesn’t pay off at the rate I’d like it to, I stop. I decide I must be doing something wrong, or not working hard enough. I give up and go get a breakfast burrito and stop obsessing about my weight. And then end up hating myself the next day. People who have struggled with weight their whole lives are their own biggest critic and their own worst enemy. And I’m not talking about those low-self-esteem women who gain and lose the same 15 pounds and think they’re “fat.” I happen to have quite a healthy does of self-image — I’ve always said that if I had to choose, I’d rather be smart and chunky than skinny and dumb.

But being one’s own harshest critic also means you can apply that same power in a more positive way. If you have the energy to put yourself down, you have the power to do the opposite and be your own biggest cheerleader.

Shortly before Thanksgiving, my mom revealed to me that she was quietly planning to have elective gastric bypass surgery. As she told me about the process, I had my doubts. But I could tell how important this was to her, so I just listened. By listening, I realized there was more to it — SO MUCH MORE — than just a little snip and stitch to put you on the weight loss express train to Bikiniville.

Unbeknownst to me, my mother had been seeing a nutritionist since September, attending classes recommended by her doctor, meeting with her surgeon and going to group therapy, where she heard the stories of others who’d had success with the surgery. It turns out in the months leading up to the surgery, the nutritionist put my mother on a very restricted low-calorie diet. Then, in the two weeks prior to the procedure, it was liquids only. Not just any liquids. Every day, she had to gulp down about 40 ounces of this rather disgusting and expensive clear protein drink. While everyone around her was enjoying her homemade Christmas ban ket and fudge and egg nog, she was sucking down some truly awful health drink, and only that. She dropped 30 pounds even before the surgery.

Now, about a month after the surgery, she’s about lost a total of 50 pounds. And I’m so proud of her I can hardly stand it. She didn’t take the easy way out. I know this now because I’ve never seen her work harder. I’ve lived with her through TOPS, Nutri-System, and a host of other weight-loss programs. I’ve never seen her put so much thought into a permanent choice about her health, and I’ve never seen her more determined to see it through. But it has not been easy. The recovery is ongoing, and she’s just now able to eat tiny portions of solid food. While she’s watching Paula Deen roast pork ribs on the Food Network, mom’s melting a cracker under her tongue. In a few weeks, she’ll be able to go back to the health club and continue her water aerobics. In the meantime, she’s got her own revolving door at the doctor’s office for constant check-ups, is battling insomnia and can hardly drink communion wine without getting ill. Anyone still think this is the easy way out? I’ll give you her number and you can hear all about it first hand.

When the husband and I decided at Christmas that it was time to tell the family we were expecting a baby, one of my aunties was particularly excited and squealed, “the baby’s going to have a skinny Grandma!” It seems sort of fitting. After all, the struggle for her to lose weight got exceptionally difficult after she gave birth to me. Her baby weight never let her go. So I guess it’s come full circle. She gets to enjoy a new baby with the freedom to give the baby back when it’s fussy, and with the freedom from the dark cloud of diabetes hanging over her head.

Whatever we choose to do to make our bodies better, there is no easy way to thin. Some people just need an extra hand up.