ABQ Tribune article

May 18, 2004 A FITTING CHANCE Food relationship needs review COMMENTARY Jennifer W. Sanchez -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Crispy, round tortilla chips filled a big platter. The aroma of tomatoes, chile and cilantro, made into a chunky salsa, wafted from a bowl. Thick, juicy steaks - each big enough to feed a family of four - sizzled on the grill at my friend's West Side home in Albuquerque. I gathered with friends, listening to the latest gossip. Chit-chat feeds my ears. Just days out of the hospital after undergoing gastric-bypass surgery, I sat quietly, holding a glass of water. I imagined I was swimming in the creamy guacamole while munching on salty chips. I could almost taste a piece of A-1 Sauce-smothered steak, enjoying every savory bite until it disappeared from the plate. After dinner, I could bite into a homemade "death bar" - warm, gooey coconut, chocolate chips, pieces of sugar heaven. Reality slammed down and, instead, I sipped on H2O. I tried to tell myself steak is just a piece of cheap, dead cow. Dessert will make me fatter, I repeated, but it didn't help. My brain knew it all tasted damn good. Oh, I miss food. I'm writing this six weeks after my surgery. Every day, I continue my lifelong battle with an unhealthy affair: a love of food. Fruit smoothies. Hot sandwiches. Warm apple pies. Like an alcoholic, I can finally admit it: My name is Jenn, and I have a problem. I love food. I loved it when I sat with my girlfriends and talked about men over nachos and buffalo wings. I loved it when my family gathered to inhale my mom's green-chile chicken enchiladas. But until a few weeks ago, I could never admit just how much I loved food. At 346 pounds, despite working out four times a week, I had great dates with diets. But then I would "break up" and give in to my cravings. I know sandwiches, breakfast burritos and cookies are not typical addictions. But for me, food made me feel better. I've finally realized I used food to feel fulfilled in good and bad times with friends, co-workers and, most of all, family. Now that's changing, little by little. On March 17, I had an operation that stapled my stomach down from the size of a football to the size of an egg. I can eat less than a cup of food three times a day, so I'm taking in fewer calories and losing weight. My diet right now is starvation-style strict. But in time, I'll be able to enjoy the foods I loved - in much smaller portions. I'll have to watch what I eat. Forever. Unfortunately, the doctors were unable to remove the portion of my brain that loves food and cooking. Or the part of my nose that can smell freshly fried Krispy Kreme doughnuts. They could not control my thoughts as I watched television while recovering at home. Commercials are brutal. I'm barraged with images - like a large Papa John's pizza with unlimited toppings or kitchen-fresh fried chicken at KFC. Or how about a new cheesy, crunchy gordita at Taco Bell? (FYI: "gordita" means "fat little girl" in Spanish.) Then come the cooking shows. A tender pork loin dinner cooked in less than 30 minutes! A French toast casserole that would go great with bacon and sausage - don't forget the sugar-free, no-carb syrup. I could even buy steaks over the phone via the home shopping networks and have them delivered to my house. Finally, there's life. After church, the crowd heads to lunch at an Italian restaurant where loaf after loaf of freshly-baked bread appears on the table. Mom bakes chocolate cupcakes and makes tacos, rice and refried beans for dinner. It's someone's birthday, wedding or funeral, so let's get together and . . . eat. I'm slowly understanding how I got into my bad eating habits. Still, I didn't realize going under the knife would change my life so drastically. The last dinner I ate before surgery was a steak, baked potato, several pieces of warm sourdough bread and a vanilla ice cream ball covered with nuts. Tonight, I ate two crackers with a smear of peanut butter and jelly and cup of sugar-free banana pudding. I eat from a child-size plate; I use a toddler-size spoon. Here's the good news: I lost about 45 pounds in the first six weeks. I'm not too thrilled. Not yet. If you ate sugar-free Jell-O for six weeks, you'd probably lose weight, too. I just can't say whether I'm happy with my decision to have the surgery. It's too soon. The emotional adjustment is too much. That said, I'm also excited to experience my new eating habits. I hope I become the kind of woman I've always secretly despised. The one who eats half her salad and announces to everyone at the table, "Oh, I'm getting stuffed." Please. Or, maybe she really is stuffed. Hey, I'm learning. Now, instead of stuffing my face, I'll have more time for the gym and shopping for new clothes. I'm even ready to take my bike for a ride. But I'm also praying I begin to see food for what it is: fuel for my body - that's it. Yes, there'll always be divine delicious desserts, but after a bite (or two), I'm hoping I'll know how to say, "I'm full." And walk away from the rest. Sanchez is a Tribune reporter who is documenting her recovery from gastric-bypass surgery in a series of occasional columns. Call her at 823-3610 or send e-mail to mailto:[email protected].