OK - here goes - the blog I don't want to write. It's a tough one. But I named it CandiDLY SPEAKING, so I guess it's part of the deal.
Those of you that know me probably already know that in addition to my main nemesis (autism), I also have an old foe that continues to torture me today as it has for most of the past 42 1/2 years.
It's not as easy for me to write about weight as it is about autism. I guess that's because regardless of how I have come to terms with my limitations when it comes to eating the right way and taking proper care of my body, I still feel immense guilt that I can't get this shit under control.
I have never been the stereotypical fat person. I have always been blessed with amazing, true girlfriends - since first grade! I had my first kiss in 1st grade...and had regular boyfriends since 5th. I was, I would like to think, somewhat of a leader. I ran clubs, organized stuff, was elected President of my class and my sorority in high school ...was even chosen as Most Likely To Succeed by my senior class! Hell, I married the captain of the football team people. Pretty impressive stuff for a fat chick, just saying!
But the weight was always there - taunting me from the inside. I wish that I could tell you that it was not an impediment, that having all of this normalcy made it no big deal to be bigger than everyone else. But that would be a lie.
Because in my safe little bubble of Saddle Brook, life was beautiful. Those that knew me never treated me differently. I was just Candi.
Those that didn't know me or care about me...different story.
The bully up the street that thought it was funny to call me Fat Rat. The kid two blocks over that asked me if my mother named me Candi because I ate a lot of candy. The cheerleading coach that told me I was too fat to be a cheerleader and put me on a mandatory diet - I had to be weighed by the nurse every Friday, and if I didn't lose weight that week, I couldn't cheer at the game that weekend. The next summer she told me not to try out for the squad ("I will not have a fat cheerleader") and offered me the mascot costume - Malcolm The F'ing Falcon - I shit you not. I didn't share that one with my parents until I was in my thirties.
I was only 9 years old the first time I went to a Weight Watchers meeting. Thus began a long and varied list of attempts to get this shit under control. Eleanor's Way, Nutri-System, Jenny Craig, the "Oprah" Liquid Diet, 7 Days of This, 4 Days of That, Atkins, Slim-Fast...do it for the Coronation Ball, do it for graduation, do it for prom, do it for your wedding...up and down, down and up...
In 1997, I took diet pills (uppers - let's call them what they were) for 9 months straight - I was cleaning closets in the middle of the night and smoking 2 packs a day, but I lost 80 pounds that year. Why the success? Because I wanted to get pregnant...and I did, fairly quickly - up, up, up, up, up...
Cut to 2003...I wanted another baby, but my weight had skyrocketed...so I had gastric bypass surgery. Extreme, yes. But please understand that when it gets that bad, everything is relative. "Aren't you afraid of having such a risky surgery?" No, actually, I am afraid that I am going to die at a young age and leave my kid without a mother.
I lost 110 pounds - life was good for a while! Got pregnant with Baby #2, only gained about 20 pounds...not bad...until autism came along...and the picking began. Home for 5 years, here come the poor eating habits - no meals, just snacks...pick, pick, pick, pick...
2012...broken ankle...completely sedentary on the couch...up, up, up...starving all the time - this is a new development! That hasn't happened since before the bypass - why am I starving? Go to the doctor - tests - the connection between your pouch and your intestine has loosened and food is not staying in your stomach for more than 5 minutes. Well, that explains that.
Here I am again. How did this happen?
So, tomorrow, 10 years later, I go in for a lap-band. Yup, TWO weight loss surgeries in one lifetime.
I happen to believe that just as money can't buy you happiness (I don't really believe that, but let's just say that it's true for argument's sake...), skinny can not do the job either. Miserable people will be miserable no matter what the hell they weigh. I could lose 100 pounds in the next year from this procedure...but would it make me happy? No. It will hopefully make me healthier, definitely make me more comfortable, probably give me more energy...and I have a new motivation for making it work this time around. I have an autistic son. A son who may never be able to live on his own...which means that I need to do whatever possible to stick around for quite some time.
Some will say (or think, but NOT say) that Weight Loss Surgery is the easy way out. I have two answers for this. First, I can attest to the fact that it is not. It is a tool, and used correctly, it can do amazing things. But if you abuse it, and don't deal with the demons that are the root cause of your weight issues, it is a useless tool. Second, you know what? I am great at a lot of things. But I suck at controlling my weight. So if you want to call it easy, I am 100% fine with that. I got enough shit that's hard in my world - I'll take something easy, thank you very much.
So wish me luck - here's hoping you'll be seeing less of me starting tomorrow...
