Dagne Tripplehorn
One Year Out and All's Not So Well
Apr 02, 2013
This post contains (gasp!!) colors! I know some people don't like colors, but they make life worth living and I love 'em.
Nearing my first surgiversary, and it's not an entirely happy occasion. I have not lost any weight in eight months. The last two months have been off-plan and exercise-free. I didn't gain during that time, and if I were at goal I'd be chuffed at eating whatever I want and not gaining weight! But as I still have 100 pounds to lose, I'm not happy at all. I went through some bad depression and anxiety and I hope double-hope triple-hope it's ebbing now so I can put my life back together. Weight loss isn't all that's in the toilet.
I have to change my attitude. (Department of Duh!) Staying / getting back on plan has to be its own reward. That is, there is no reward other than general health and sanity. Evidently eating 1000 calories and day and exercising to pain and exhaustion does not make my body release fat. But it does seem to keep my diabetes in remission (so far, knock wood). I've got to resign myself to eating on plan because it's Good.
Just...Good. Like following the Ten Commandments when you don't believe in Hell or Heaven, or even in Moses: They're good things and that's it.
Blind faith has not been my strength. I'm more a science geek, an evidence-based thinker. Evidence shows that my eating and exercising don't affect my weight. Yet I'm going to take a leap of faith and do it anyway.
I am mad at people who found WLS to be easy. Nothing in my life has been easy. In fact, my life is total crap. Bad luck, bad genes, bad timing, bad teeth...you name it, it's been a freakin struggle with a bad outcome. Why did I hope WLS would be any different? So all you who got surgery, followed the plan, and lost 150 pounds in seven months can go suck eggs. There! That's honesty for you. No, I'm not happy for you any more. I used to be, but now I'm just p.o.ed.
Even with the garment-rending and complaining, I'm keeping on keeping on. I'm exercising again and still trying to beat the carb cravings at night. I don't really think I'll win the war, but can't seem to stop fighting the battles. I'm dumb-stubborn like that. I'm born under the sign of the ox, and a Capricorn (the mer-goat), and obstinate as a mule. So as of this lovely spring morning, I'm digging my hooves in once more, lowering my head into bashing postion, and pushing ahead.
