Angels in the Living Room and Make Mine a Medium

My mother passed away on a Sunday.  She went downhill remarkably quickly, but the first bad night she had was Wednesday.  She was sleeping on the sofa when she woke up panicked, complaining that she couldn't breathe.  I set her up in the recliner, gave her some medication to help her relax, and then I brushed her hair until she relaxed and finally fell asleep.  I sat in the armchair next to the recliner the entire night.

My mother's neighbor, Debbie, came over in the morning, and she and I were chatting quietly while my mother dozed.  When my mother awoke, she looked around the room and then asked, "Where'd that man go?"

Debbie and I looked at each other, and Debbie asked, "What man?"

My mom said very nonchalantly, "The man who stood behind Rhonda watching over her all night."

I know.  Goosebumps, right?  I had them, too.  And I think that I'm dealing with my mother's death well because of that.  I was protected.  I AM protected.  I miss her.  Terribly.  But something else exists beyond this life.  I do believe that now.

My mom was a tiny woman--4'9 at the time of her death.  She was heavy when I was growing up, but she lost all her weight and managed to stay small.  My mom had a LOT of clothing that still has the tags, never worn: several pair of knit pants from Sears (size petite small) and two pair of capri pants, (size petite medium.)  The knit pants fit me, (because they stretch) but I want to return them.  I'm 5'3" and petite pants are often just a little bit short.  I prefer my pants to "break" at my shoe, and these don't.  The capris are not knit but instead a cotton-poly broadcloth, so they don't stretch.  I wasn't sure they would fit me at all. 

They do.  Perfectly.  In fact, I wore a pair to school last week. 

It's hard to get my head to accept that I'm a size medium.  Bizarre.  I still feel fat, although in my heart, I know I'm not.  I still view chairs with arms as the enemy.  I still walk into a theatre and wince at the thought of squeezing into the uncomfortable chairs.  I still gravitate toward larger styles and have a very hard time purchasing clothing that flatters this new body, instead wanting to find clothing that covers--because that's what I USED to do.

Size MEDIUM.  Me.  It's surreal...and yet it's real.  Maybe my angel can help me accept that?

Grief Brain

Grief brain is a real thing.  (Google it.  Yeah, I was surprised, too!) A little over two weeks ago, the love of my life succumbed to cancer.  My mom (Surprised?  You shouldn't be; our moms are definitely our first loves--they love us unconditionally) died rather peacefully after a very short (3 months is all) battle with cancer.

My mother was 84 and didn't pursue chemotherapy because she wanted quality of life rather than quantity of life.  I'd say she accomplished that as she was only gravely ill for less than 24 hours.  The rest of the time she was laughing, eating, watching television and only someone who really knew her would even guess she was sick.

I was fortunate enough to be able to spend my mother's final week with her.  My principal is a wonderful man who said to me, "Family comes first" when I told him of my mother's diagnosis back in December.  I spent two weeks at Christmas, a few long weekends here and there and finally her last week with her.  The last week was lovely--I guess that may sound weird, but she was well enough to be good company and to let me pamper her a bit.  I rubbed her back and her feet and gave her a pedicure and manicure, which she loved.  We had real quality time together, and I have no regrets.

But my brain!  I have really struggled these past sixteen days.  One evening almost a week after she passed, I was going out with some friends.  I didn't have a key to my mother's house because I used the garage door opener.  Instead of driving that night, my friends came to get me.  I couldn't figure out what to do to be able to get into the house because I didn't have a key.  I considered leaving my car in the driveway.  That way I could take my car keys with me and then use the garage door opener to get into the house.  Then I thought about just driving myself.  I went around and around with the problem until it finally occurred to me just to TAKE the garage door OPENER.  Seriously.

I have been back to work a week today.  The past three days, I've searched high and low in my house looking for my mother's jewelry box.  Come to find out, I left it behind.  I didn't even pack it.  Fortunately, my youngest brother picked it up and took its contents.  My mom wasn't much for jewelry--she only had a few pieces, but still...!

I've left the house twice without my cell phone.  I left my reading glasses at home today.  I handed a student an eraser today when she asked for a pencil.  Yep.  I've lost it.

The good news is that I haven't lost it for good.  https://www.griefrecoverymethod.com/blog/1994/02/grief-affects-concentration-emotional-jet-lag   This article has wonderful information on the entire process.  "Emotional jet lag" is a good way to describe it.  Here's another good source of information:  http://www.refugeingrief.com/grief-brain/   

I'm at an age when so many of my friends are sharing this experience.  It's a sad rite of passage that we must all go through--but it's not easy, nor will it ever be.

(Oh...and for those of you keeping score: I weigh 144.  To date, I've lost 161 pounds.  Sorry to disappoint those who believe gastric bypass surgery doesn't work.  And it's been more than 4.5 years!)

"I am NOT Caitlyn Jenner..."

but I could be! 

Caitlyn (formerly Bruce) Jenner was awarded the Arthur Ashe ESPY the other night, and people are (vocally) divided about the honor--with those against complaining that undergoing transgender surgery in a very public forum doesn't require courage.

When I had my surgery nearly four years ago, I was terrified.  Of failing.  I was afraid that the fat Rhonda would "win" and that the surgery wouldn't be successful.  I had SO many naysayers in my life: those who told me that "so-and-so had the surgery and gained back all of his/her lost weight" and "so-and-so had the surgery and now thinks that she's 'all that'" and other negative statements.  Of course, I've had a lot of support along the way (I almost spelled it "weigh"!), but there was a lot of doubt--self-doubt and otherwise.

Today, as I recover from yet another step of taking back my life (total knee replacement), I realize that Caitlyn and I have a great deal in common.  We are both finally...FINALLY...really truly living.  Living life on OUR terms.  Caitlyn Jenner, at 62, is finally living the life she's been denied.  So am I.  We both have grown out our hair, are "styling" when it comes to fashion, are comfortable with who we ARE and are finally really, truly happy.

Fat Rhonda, like Bruce and Caitlyn, was the real me living a lie.  How could anyone deny Ms. Jenner the chance to live the truth?  Should ANYONE have that much power over another human being? Of course not.  And as I wiggle my toes as part of my recovery from surgery, I know that having this knee replacement was just another stop on the road to LIFE on MY terms.

Have a wonderful weekend!

Happy Mother's Day

It's Mother's Day.  I often have a hard time with this holiday--not because I don't have my own mother--but because I wanted children and didn't get to have them. My ex-husband didn't want them, and he and I didn't have sex often enough to worry about getting pregnant, so...

It's hard to have a void like this in my life...it's a void that cannot be filled.  Before my surgery, I would try to fill it with food.  Now, since that isn't possible--and since I cannot afford to fill it with earrings or shoes (not that I wouldn't like to try!)--I've accepted that I have to FEEL the void.  It's a tough thing to do, but I'm trying.

This year, I had quite the surprise.  Two of my 11th grade students gave me Mother's Day presents!  Seriously!  One girl painted me a picture; the other gave me a gift bag with silk flowers, a stuffed animal and Little Debbie oatmeal creme pies.  (I told you--I eat everything--just not a LOT of anything!)

The gifts made me cry; I couldn't get over the kindness of these young women, who have shown me love in THE most special way.  I'm touched beyond measure.

So to everyone who has a mother, who has lost a mother, whose biological mother was a disappointment or who is or is NOT a mother, I say this:  How we know and recognize a mother figure is by her LOVE.  All of us are mothers of one sort or another--biology has nothing to do with it--it's all about LOVE.

Happy Mother's Day, everyone!

So Far to Go...

I spent my Saturday in my absolute FAVORITE way--at the movies.  I saw two films today: Selma and The Imitation Game.  Both were wonderful--heartbreaking, well acted, so terribly sad and so terribly important.

We have come so very far from the days of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., but we have so very far to go.  I sat in the theatre watching the events from 1965 unfold and sobbed.  I was alive in 1965, of course, but I was too young to have fully absorbed and understood what was going on in this country at the time.  When the bomb exploded in the church in Birmingham in the first few minutes of the movie, I sobbed.  It was not the last time I cried.  As a person who prides herself on not seeing color, I was truly ashamed to be white as I watched how African-Americans fought to win the right to vote.  The hate, the violence, the killing--we have come so far in this country but we have SO very far to go. 

I know that my words don't capture the power of the film--and in a way, I'm glad they don't.  See it.  Cry through it.  Feel it.  And then talk about it.  Talk about where we were.  Talk about where we are.  And once you've talked about it, look at what YOU can do to help us move further.

The Imitation Game, like Selma, is also a true story.  And while African-Americans' mistreatment was the focus of the latter, the treatment of homosexuality in England was one of the focal points of the former.  Alan Turing was probably the world's first computer genius--a genius whose invention helped end World War II two years early and saved hundreds of thousands (if not millions) of lives.  And yet, because he was gay--which was ILLEGAL in England until 1967--he was treated in a horrific manner.

I won't spoil the end of the movies for you, although if you know your history, you know how each movie ends.  They were both wonderful, and I recommend them both.  We have come such a long way, and we should be encouraged by that.  Still, we have so very far to go...and I, for one, hope to see us make progress, however slow that progress may be, every day.

Oh, and yes...I did have popcorn at the movies.  (I always do!) But a small popcorn lasted over two movies, and I still only ate half of it!  I'm a cheap date!

Say 'Cheese'!

I thought that it was time to update my panel photo.  I HATE "selfies" taken in a mirror, but I'm home alone tonight, so...

I went back to work/school on Monday and it's been a pretty good week.  Hard to believe it's Wednesday already!  People around me at school are sick--and it seems that ALL kinds of things are going around!  Stomach bugs, flu, sore throats, bronchitis, laryngitis and so on...all things I don't want right now!!!

Truth is, I think I'm healthier now.  That sounds stupid.  Of COURSE I'm healthier now as far as my weight goes--my blood pressure is normal, my heart is healthy, etc.  But I think that my general health is better now, too.  (Knock on wood!)

The only problem I've been having is sleeping all night--and it sucks.  I wake up almost EVERY morning at 3:30...almost like clockwork.  Last night was the first night that I woke up and went RIGHT back to sleep--and I didn't expect to because I had had a little iced tea before hand!  I drink so very little caffeine, I thought that it would really bother me.  The tea I had yesterday was the first in about a month; I drink spring water almost exclusively.

So...what do you think of the new pic?  Between the pounds (145 gone) and the new 'do, I hardly recognize myself some days!  But it's a really GOOD change!

What's In a Name?

No, I'm not quoting Shakespeare.  (At least not now--those who know me know I do so regularly, though...)  Today's topic has to do with another aspect of dating for...um...shall we say "seasoned" daters.

Dee and I had dinner last night, but it was not the dinner I had planned.  Shannon's great-grandmother called me shortly before we were to leave to head to our "half-way" meeting place, which is about an hour and fifteen minutes from home.  She was having car trouble, so I had to take Shannon all the way home.  A five-hour car trip was definitely cutting into the dinner plans I had made!  However, I think it was John Lennon who said, "Life is what happens when you're making other plans"!  So, I sent Dee a quick text that we might have to change our plans and took Shannon to Chik-fil-A for lunch before we got on the road.

After we got our food, I called Dee.  It was pretty apparent that he didn't want to cancel completely so I asked if he minded picking up a pizza and joining me later than originally planned.  This man's mantra is "no problem".  It's SO nice to be with someone like that! Shannon's great-grandmother was able to borrow a different car to meet me at the edge of their city, which saved me about an hour, and I was able to get home by 5:30. It was really foggy, and because I knew that he would be traveling to my house by a similar route, I sent him a quick text to warn him to be careful.  When I'm driving, I ALWAYS dictate texts, although Siri sometimes gets things wrong.  In this case, she REALLY messed up.  First text said it was "5 D" out.  5 D instead of foggy?  I also discovered, when he was called me at 7:15, late and lost, that she had completely messed up the address I had voice-texted to him!  Poor guy!  He remembered that I don't live far from the school where I work, so he found his way there and called me!  I managed to talk him here--I live out a bit, but he finally got here, and we had a lovely evening.

So...four dates and I think we're on a roll.  His schedule is different from mine, so I'm not sure when I'll see him again, but I know I will.  Which brings me to the title question.

What do you call the person you're dating when you're no longer fifteen?  When we go to a basketball game at school next week, how do I introduce him?  My friend?  Too platonic.  My boyfriend? Again, not 15 anymore.  My lover? Too laughable--and it reminds me of Carrie Bradshaw telling everyone about Aleksandr Petrovsky in Sex and the City when Sarah Jessica Parker's character first gets involved with Mikhail Baryshnikov's character.  Nope.   My gentleman friend? Sure.  Hand me a fan in case I get the vapors.  Nope.  Next!  My companion? Sure, if he was a cocker spaniel.  It seems young adults use terms like "bae" (which I understand means "shit" in Denmark although it's SUPPOSED to be a term of endearment here), "hubby" (which is wrong, presumptuous and ridiculous) and "MCM" (for Man-crush Monday--an Instagram trend).  Sigh.  None of these work.

So, I guess I'll just use...um...well...his name!  "Hi, this is Dee."  I don't need to describe him as "my" anything!  I'm just happy to have such a problem!

It's Sunday--and I'm back to work tomorrow, so I need to go do all the school work I didn't do the past two weeks!  Have a great day, and thanks for reading!

The Dating Dilemma

People often misuse the word "dilemma".  The prefix "di" indicates "two", so a dilemma is, in the very truest meaning of the word, a "situation requiring a choice between TWO equally undesirable alternatives."  The keywords in that definition, I think are "equally undesirable."  As a divorced woman, I have to choose between staying home alone (or hanging out with my few female friends) or putting myself (and my heart) out there in the dating world.  If you've dated at ALL in the last 20 years, you'll know what I mean. It's brutal!  Married men on the prowl, guys looking for casual sex, foreign scammers...you would not believe how rough it is out there.  So why would an intelligent woman even try?  Good question!

Tonight, I'm making dinner for "D".  (I really don't want to reveal his name now, so I think I'll make that initial a word and will start calling him 'Dee' for ease.)  Dee and I have been out three times now.  We met online and had our first date a couple of weeks ago--lunch at Applebee's.  (If you haven't tried their politically incorrectly named "Oriental Chicken Salad", you really need to! Delicious, but I digress...)  Our second date was dinner at Chili's and a Netflix movie at my house.  He was a perfect gentleman (or so you're going to think because I'm not giving away any details.  And don't think my lack of details is an admission of guilt or acknowledgement of ANYTHING!)  Our third date was a movie--he actually took me to Into the Woods.  I had given him a choice of either Unbroken or Top Five, thinking both movies were "guy-friendly" films.  In passing, I mentioned that I wanted to see Into the Woods. (For those of you who may not know, the movie is a Stephen Sondheim musical based on the Broadway plan of the same name.  A musical!)  Imagine my surprise when he texted me the times for Into the Woods!  When it was over, (and it's wonderful, by the way), I told him, "Oh, I owe you big for this one!" and he said, in his quiet, calm way, "It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be."

That blew me away.  He went to see this movie because I wanted to.  He figured it was going to be bad, but he was willing to see it to make me happy! I honestly don't think I've ever been with a man, including my ex-husband, who agreed to see something I wanted to see. 

So tonight I'm cooking dinner for him.  I'm roasting a chicken, making mashed potatoes, corn (because he's "not big on vegetables" which is not a big deal as neither am I) and a dessert I haven't quite figured out yet.  I have a busy day ahead of me because I have some cleaning to do, shopping to do,  and I have to take Shannon back to her great-grandmother.  And I'm nervous.  Four dates!  This could be a make-it or break-it date.  This could be the start of something.  This man seems to be a very nice, but am I a good judge of character?  I don't know.  I really don't.  All I do know is that I could really like this man.  I mean really like him.

So...the dilemma.  Do I continue to risk heartbreak?  Or do I get used to being alone?  I don't want to get used to being alone, because while I love my "me" time, I don't want to spend all of my days alone.  I asked Dee pointblank what he wants out of life and out of love.  His response?  "I want to be loved and someone that wants me and to have fun." 

Simple and to the point, right?  That's what I want, too.  So of course, I'm going to risk heartbreak.  After all, (to quote an old commercial), I'm worth it!  So maybe, in its truest meaning, dating isn't a dilemma for me.  So stay tuned.  I'll let you know how it goes.  Just don't expect any details...

Happy Birthday to Me!

Today, I am 57 years old.  Fifty-seven!  Where does the time go?  I remember dropping a bottle of cologne (Heaven Sent) out of my locker onto the tile floor of my high school.  The bottle shattered and the locker (and the lockers next to it) smelled of Heaven Sent for weeks!  It seems like it was yesterday...not 40 years ago!

Where DOES the time go? It's been more than three years since I had my surgery, and even that seems like yesterday.  But it's been a good three years...with ups and downs, of course, but a good three years, nonetheless.  

And I know that it's three MORE years than I might've had if I hadn't had the gastric bypass when I did.  I saved my life the day I decided to have the surgery.  There are few moments of absolute certainty in life, but the surgery saved my life--of that I am completely certain.

I was almost diabetic.  My blood sugars were borderline for a year or more before the surgery.  My blood pressure was high--to the point where my doctor was getting ready to put me on medication for it.  My cholesterol was always pretty good--but trust me, that's a reflection of good genes more than it is indicative of my previous lifestyle.

My life is very different.  I am able to do more today than I've been able to do in years.  There's a stable close to my house, and when I get paid again (this once-a-month pay is ridiculous!), I'm going to go horseback riding.  I haven't been on a horse since I was about 14 years old.  But I love horses--I love all animals, and I cannot wait to ride again!  On October 4, I'm going to Carowinds in Charlotte with a few of the teachers from school (all three of them are in their 20s!) to ride roller coasters and to scream and to have a FABULOUS day! 

Who says life begins at 30?  Or 40?  Or even 50?  For me, it started on August 5, 2011, six weeks before my 54th birthday.  Talk about a roller coaster ride!  Peaks and valleys and screams of glee...I am SO happy to be alive!

So yes, happy 57 to me...here's looking forward to another 30 or so!

Little Girl Lost...

Before one has gastric bypass surgery, one has to go through some rather rigorous testing, including consultations with a cardiologist, gastroenterologist, nutritionist and psychologist.  I passed all these tests with flying colors, or I wouldn't have been able to have the surgery.  However, even with all the tests, with all the support, no one prepared me for what's going on in my life today.

I feel lost, for lack of a better term.  I don't recognize the person I used to look like, but I don't recognize the NEW body, either.  Here's a photo that my friend Dorothy took the day I had  my two-week post-surgical visit where I was (finally) allowed to eat solid food.  The photo commemorates my first bite of mashed potatoes.

 

By the time this photo was taken, I had lost about 20 pounds (and I had lost 5 before the surgery), so I probably weighed 280.  I honestly don't remember being THAT big. I KNOW that I was, but I never saw myself that big.

This photo was taken yesterday by my former student, Naomi.  We went to lunch and then shopping where I had to buy a belt.  (For the first time in my life!)  I wasn't sure that she was taking a photo of me--I actually thought she was taking a photo of the little dog sculpture.)

I'm not sure who that woman is.  Seriously.  It's MY shirt and purse, but whose BODY is that?  When people see me for the first time in a long time, they blurt, "You're so small!"  Cherry, at the Thai restaurant, said it.  Deborah, whom I hadn't seen in ages, didn't recognize me until I said, "It's me, Rhonda!"  Her reply was, "You're so small!"  So it must be true, right?  And yet, I don't FEEL small.  It's a bizarre paradox...I don't think I'm as big as the old photos show me to be, but I certainly don't FEEL as small as I look in this photo.  Having a concept of "self" is just foreign to me today.

I've had a hard time articulating this to the people in my life--and even to myself.  I hope this makes some sense...and if anyone else has had this body-image issue, PLEASE leave me a comment!!

A Move, a Milestone and a Problem

It's been a long time since I posted, since May, in fact.  I'm sorry.  I know that it's not fair to those of you who read this--I hope you're still with me even though my posts are infrequent.

First the move.  I'm living in North Carolina again; this time in Rocky Mount in an adorable house in the country.  My neighbor across the road (it's a narrow, private road) is a horse.  :-)  There are crops to the right of my house as well as behind it.  It's quiet here, except for the crows, which are noisy boogers sometimes.  

I'm teaching again; I really missed it, and I love the school I'm in.  I love my principal, my kids and my coworkers.  I really feel blessed, and returning to NC felt like I was going "home".  I have great friends here, and after working in the hospital for a year, I am really glad to be back in the classroom, which also feels like "home".  And I'm letting my hair grow out--here's an updated photo:

The milestone?  Well, it was three years ago August that I began this adventure, and as of today, I have lost 147 lbs, which takes my weight to 158, which is FIVE POUNDS less than I weighed in September, 1974 (the beginning of my senior year.)

How do I know this?  How do I remember?  I had knee surgery that September.  The nurse who weighed me for my admission had me step on the scale.  Those non-digital scales have those weights that get moved over, and she must've forgotten that she had moved from "100" to "150" because when she slid the little bar over to "13", she said, "Okay, 113?"  I didn't correct her.  It was the first time in my life I "weighed" 113--never mind that I didn't really weigh that; for one hospital stay, my weight on paper was 113!  So I remember it clearly.  I weighed 163.

And that was the last time I weighed even CLOSE to 163. And now I weigh 5 pounds less than that!  It's incredible.  People who I haven't seen in a while don't even recognize me.  My skinny jeans are size 12.  If I could afford to have plastic surgery, I would probably weigh about 130 and wear a size 8.  I'm small.  Seriously...for the first time in my adult life.  Remember three years ago when the naysayers told me all their hateful stories about people who gained ALL their weight back?  Well, it's three years later, and I'm not there!!

And the problem?  Sigh.  I almost hate to admit it.  I look great in clothing, but naked is another story all together.  No one prepares you for how you look naked when you have this surgery.  Seriously.  There is no preparation for the deflated balloon look that is so hard to view.  I try to avoid mirrors when I'm naked, probably more than I avoided mirrors when I was fat! I almost think I had more body confidence before the surgery than I have now, because when I was big, it was pretty much "what you see is what you get."  That's not true anymore, and I think my lack of confidence is one of the reasons I'm not dating at ALL.  I miss dating.  I do.  I'm just not sure about dealing with the excess flesh.  I think counseling may be in order...

Stretch Armstrong?

Remember that toy?  Stretch Armstrong?  The last name was a pun--he had strong arms!  But the important part of it was that he could be stretched and stretched--across a room!  

When I first had this surgery, nearly three years ago, people, being the doomsayers they are, told me that they knew people who gained all their weight back...and MORE.  Everyone had a sad story to tell about someone they KNEW.

Hearing that story freaked me out, so I asked the nurse practitioner in my surgeon's office if she had experience with people who gained all their weight back.  She told me that in her seven years of working in that office, she had NEVER seen anyone gain ALL their weight back. Yes, people gained back 10-15 pounds over a few years, but she had never seen ANYONE gain all their weight back.

So why the naysayers?  Can it be that people just don't WANT to admit that this surgery WORKS?  Last week's Grey's Anatomy mentioned a patient who had had gastric bypass surgery but that the stomach pouch and intestine had stretched out and needed to be repaired.  However, the show didn't mention WHY his pouch had stretched, and nothing more was mentioned about that patient.  I was hoping that they would expound on the subject, but they did not.  I'm not sure why they didn't address the issue--perhaps there was pressure from the bariatric surgical community.  Perhaps they didn't want to dump more fuel on the fire. Perhaps they didn't want to further the idea that everyone who has the surgery gains ALL their weight back.

I definitely can eat more today than I could two and a half years ago.  But I still can only eat a very small amount.  About half of a half of a chicken breast.  If I have one more bite than I should, I get sick.  One bite more.  How on earth could I possibly gain ALL my weight back?  On any given day, I weigh between 158 and 163...depending on intestinal issues more than anything else.  Maybe it's a surgical problem?  Perhaps the people who are "gaining back all their weight and then some" are doing so because they have inept surgeons?

I don't have any answers, and I can't speak for everyone.  Personally, I don't know ANYONE who gained back all of his or her weight.  I DO know that I'm still about 145 pounds down from where I started nearly three years ago--and I don't imagine that I'll be STRETCHING anytime soon...

Body Parts and Broken Hearts

I want to ask you a question.  What is your favorite body part?  Seriously.  Think about your body--that glorious mass of bones and tissue that covers and protects your heart, lungs, liver and other organs.  What's your favorite body part?

My favorite body part USED to be my eyes.  I still love them--they change color and are sometimes greener than they are at other times.  My eyelashes are really long and curly, and I love them.  People notice them, and I get a lot of compliments.  But I have a NEW favorite body part--my collarbones.  

I love my collarbones.  As you can see by this picture, they are rather prominent.

 

I love them.  I find myself stroking them, rapping on them (they make a cool hollow sound), grabbing at them.  Collarbones.  I've always HAD them, but before the surgery, I couldn't see them or feel them. My collarbones are this wonderfully TANGIBLE sign of the difference this surgery has made in my life.

There's a new documentary called "All of Me" about women who have had gastric bypass surgery.  These women used to be "fat acceptance advocates", but one by one decided that the health benefits of the surgery were right for her.  Some of these women lost a lot of weight; a couple did not.  But what struck me was the fact that a few lost friends and/or spouses.

My question to this is WHY?  Why do friends and lovers feel threatened by this surgery?  When I had mine,my fiance James didn't want me to do so.  Although he took me to the hospital, he left me on Friday night and didn't come back to the hospital until Sunday to pick me up.  He didn't throw away the junk food in my house that I had asked him to throw away.  I knew that it was the beginning of the end for us. He admitted to me (after I pressured him for an answer) that he wasn't sure he could be attracted to a smaller me.  He later said that he was afraid that if I lost the weight, I'd no longer be attracted to him.  (I'm not sure but I think that was insulting--did he not TRUST me?)

A woman in the documentary said that her new body didn't match her husband's sexual desires, but they are "trying" to hold their marriage together. He had moved out but they were dating.  Other women in the film talked about losing friends.  I had a friend--someone I thought was a GOOD friend--Crystal.  She and I used to meet for dinner whenever our busy schedules allowed.  But when I lost the weight--and began to look good--she was just too busy.  What happened there?  I'm not sure, but I theorize that she felt threatened by someone who would take the spotlight away from her. She stopped calling, didn't return my calls and didn't even seem to notice when I "unfriended" her on Facebook.

People make the mistake of thinking that weight-loss surgery is the EASY way out.  It is NOT easy.  It's difficult and scary and physically demanding.  Losing 145 pounds was one of the best things that ever happened to me...but it's not without collateral damage.  Still, as I stroke my collarbones, I regret nothing...

The Answer Is....RED PANTS!

The question: What did I wear to school today?  Yes.  Red skinny leg pants.  Me.  In red pants.  I don't think I've worn any color but black, brown or navy since I was in FOURTH grade!  A very large person just doesn't look good in red pants!!  

I was in New York last week on spring break.  My mom and I did a lot of shopping, and I found some tremendous bargains, including a gorgeous turquoise cable knit cardigan, originally priced at $40 for $3.99!!  I bought the red pants, a pair of dark teal jeans with zippered ankles and a great pair of black jeans with "blinged out" pockets for $14.50 each.  Their original price? $58 at Macy's!  Macy's sales are incredible.

I also found an amazing pair of jeans (straight with this blue-on-blue floral design) marked down from $44 to $7.05!  And they're a size 12.  TWELVE!!! OMG...I think I wore a 13-15 when I made my confirmation in 7th grade!!!

This ride is not a smooth one...I don't know from one day to the next when I may eat one bite too much and risk vomiting.  I'm getting better at stopping, but food is delicious, dammit.  It's sometimes hard to stop, but I'm learning.  Sometimes the hard way, but I'm learning.  It's hard to get my head wrapped around all of this, and sometimes I feel I still weigh 300+ lbs.  I look at my OWN clothing and think, "No way is that small pair of jeans going to fit me..." Because of the surgery, I can't take ANY anti-inflammatory medications, like Aleve and Motrin.  My knees, which are, according to my new orthopedist Dr. Smith, at least 75 years old (I'm 55!) with their worn, arthritic appearance, hurt like hell sometimes.  I had two cortisone injections today, which SHOULD buy me a few months of less pain.  Don't get me wrong--my knees feel SO much better today than they did 120+ pounds ago, but I've been without cartilage in my left knee since I was 17.  Imagine walking bone-on-bone all that time! An oral NSAID would help, but since I can't take them, I had to opt for steroids.

No...this isn't easy at all.  But I have to tell you...as I look at that picture from the day before surgery...I wouldn't have it any other way!

Oh and by the way, I've been in two other community theatre productions in the area in the 10 years I've living in North Carolina, but the play I'm rehearsing now is going to be the best!  It started as "Dracula"...and without revealing a lot of sordid details, we're now doing Neil Simon's "The Odd Couple."  I play Gwendolyn Pigeon, one of two women in the play.  The women in the play are described as being in their early thirties (!), cute and very English.  In "Dracula", I was a Gypsy woman.  I probably would've gotten the part as the Gypsy woman 120+ pounds ago, but I certainly wouldn't have been right for Gwendolyn Pigeon!  It's rather exciting to think of that!  (BTW, if you're local, the play is at Edgecombe Community College 4/24 (free preview) thru 4/27, all shows at 8:00pm and 4/28 at 2:00pm.  Come out and LAUGH!

Same Book, Different Chapter

I've come to realize that I haven't really changed...the book is the same, but the chapter is new! I had a terrific weekend.  Shannon and I went to the Carolina Tiger Rescue on Saturday morning, and then we saw "Peter Pan" Saturday night.  Carolina Tiger Rescue was amazing...and I wouldn't have been able to do that a year ago!

The rescue center is in Pittsboro, which is outside of Raleigh--about 90 minutes from my house.  It's on several acres of land, and the tour involved walking up and down hills, on gravel and grass and unpaved roads.  I took the course easily, never needing to stop and sit (there were some benches available, and a few people on our tour took full advantage).  Instead, I took the hike easily, never getting out of breath or really experiencing pain!  No pain?  Upon exertion?  What a novel idea! (Forgive the pun!) 

Shannon had a great time--and I took some terrific photos!  The rescue's main mission is education, and we really did learn a lot while having fun!  Then Saturday night, we went to the theatre.  It was so refreshing sitting in the theatre seat in complete comfort, and for the first time, maybe ever, I didn't even worry about being uncomfortable in the armed chair.  There was a large woman in front of me who spilled over into the seats around her, and my heart went out to her.  I know only too well how that feels. 

Instead of being uncomfortable in the theatre seat, I was able to focus on Shannon and her enjoyment of the play.  She's always been a great fan of Tinkerbell, and when Tink showed up in the play--a ball of light and tinkling sound--Shannon's reaction was breathtaking.  I wouldn't have missed it for the world!  I literally cried! 

My life is really different these days.  Dating two or three different guys at a time, walking, belonging to a gym--Oh, yeah, I joined Planet Fitness.  I work out 4-6 times per week.  Wild, huh?  I'm the same person, but I've definitely entered a new chapter in my life.  I like this chapter...and I want to live it for a long, long time!

Judge Much???

I have always prided myself on not judging people. I don't judge based on race or religion, but this afternoon I found myself judging two different women on something that may surprise you--their weight!

I know--ME?  Judging them after I weighed more than 300 pounds?  Where do I get off?  Truth is, I asked myself that question, and then really truly scolded myself for even thinking what I thought.  But truth is, I did think it.  Both women in question were easily 400+ and both were using the "scooters" at Sam's Club.

My thought: "You wouldn't need that scooter if you lost some weight."  And it's true--they PROBABLY wouldn't...after all, I used to use those same scooters to get around Sam's.  But they also may have had some debilitating disease, which I couldn't possibly know by looking so where do I get off judging?

Truth is, I felt terrible about even thinking it--which is why I'm sitting here less than 30 minutes later, writing a "confession" of sorts.  I also know that people thought the very same thing about ME when I was scooting around the store--and of course, they were right.  I'm living proof of that.  Still, I had no right to think that of these women--because if it weren't for the surgery, I'd have been riding along side them.

Think about it.  When's the last time you saw a large person and thought, "Why doesn't he/she do something about..."  Did you chastise yourself?  You should have.  After all..."judge not lest ye be judged."

Phew...I feel better now.  It's FRIDAY!  Have a great weekend!

Dating Disasters...and Other Stories

First, let me apologize for not writing much recently.  School and dating are kicking my ass!  As it is, I should be grading papers and posting grades because progress reports are due on Tuesday.

But I had to take a few minutes to catch you up on the nightmare that is my life. 

First, last weekend, I was able to spend the entire weekend with Shannon.  It was so much fun--the kid is just so funny, and we had a great time.  We saw an awesome movie at the IMAX in Raleigh on the migration of monarch butterflies.  I loved it, and so did Shannon.  On Sunday, I took her back home...we actually met her great grandmother half way between here and Wilmington.

I've been talking to a man I met on Match.com, and he lives near Wilmington, so I suggested that we meet after I dropped off Shannon.  The meeting was okay--he has some bizarre facial hair I wasn't crazy about, but I was willing to give him a chance.  He called me about 15 minutes after I got home to let me know he got home okay, which was nice.  I started a load of laundry, and when I came back into my bedroom, I had a voicemail from him.  The message? "Roberta, it's me.  Gimme a call."  Yeah.  Roberta!  I called him and said, "you just left a message for Roberta on my phone."  He asked, "Who's this?"  Yep.  Needless to say, I hung up the phone and haven't returned his texts or calls.

Then I met a man online on Monday night, and we ended up going out on Tuesday!  Would've been great, except I picked a bad movie.  (Who knew Jason Statham could make a bad movie!!)  I chose to see "Parker" which was just awful.  I love Jason Statham, but this was NOT one of his best.  Then I recommended Cheddar's in Greenville for dinner--and it wasn't good either!  He's a nice man, though, and still wants to see me again, even though I made two bad choices that night!

And the icing on the proverbial dating cake came on Friday night.  I went out with Rick.  He suggested dinner at Outback.  I was excited about this date for some reason--and even a little nervous.  I came home from school,showered and washed my hair and got ready.  I met him at the restaurant at 7.  I hadn't eaten much all day, and I was nervous.   I made the biggest mistake--and ate a little piece of Outback's dark bread.  And sipped some water.  When my dinner arrived (way too much food for me, anyway), I ate a slice of the pork tenderloin and began to feel ill.  Those of you who are squeamish, stop reading now.

Last month, Al Roker caught a lot of negative attention when he admitted to "pooping his pants" at the White House.  He said that he admitted this because there are side effects to gastric bypass and wants people to be aware.  Well,here's a side effect to be aware of: I thought I was going to cough--and promptly vomited. 

Yep.  Vomited.  Into my napkin at the table with Rick sitting across from me.  Fortunately (?!), it was mostly water and mucus.  I didn't actually vomit food until I got to the ladies' room.  As I was dying in the ladies' room, I thought about sneaking out of the restaurant and texting him from the parking lot to let him know I had left.  Except that I had left my phone on the table.  A former colleague from Prep, Martha, came into the ladies' room, and I told her what I had done.  She asked, "Oh, no. Do you like him at least?"  I asked, "Does it matter?"

So I washed my face and slunk back to the table where Rick was sitting expectantly.  I honestly thought he'd have sneaked out of the restaurant...and I would not have blamed him!!  Instead, he wants to see me again!

I hate dating.  I do.  But I guess I need to get used to it...the new me is attractive and is attracting attention.  Let's just hope I don't barf again anytime soon...

 

Size Apparently IS Everything...

When I was in New York last month, I bought several new tops, including two new cardigans.  One was kelly green (I look great in green--makes my eyes greener and my hair redder) and the other was black.  The black one is a size "large" while the green one is a "medium" because they didn't have any large, so I tried on the green one and it fit fine.

Today, I thought I'd wear the black one to school.  It's too small.  It's a size larger than the green one that FIT.  How weird is that?  Sizes are so strange.  I guess it depends on the manufacturer, but it strikes me as so weird that two sweaters by the SAME manufacturer would vary so much in size.  Maybe that's why they were on sale--just $7.99 marked down from $58...But the lesson here is TRY things ON!!

I've never been one to try things on in stores, but I'm going to start!  I used to dress to hide, now I need to dress to flatter...so the dressing room is where it'll all begin!!

And let me say this...my blog is NOT a place for "conversations", but if you'd like to leave a comment, please do.  I just ask that you don't leave an ANONYMOUS comment, as that seems pretty cowardly to me. (And because this is MY blog, I reserve the right to delete any comment I deem inappropriate). And if you want to have a "conversation", I'm on Facebook.  Friend me! RRRhonda9.

Have a great day, everyone!  (It's almost the weekend...and it's a LONG one!!)

Get Your Nose Out of MY Business!!

When I started this blog in August 2011, I did so for two reasons: 1) to help myself through the process and 2) to help others who might have similar issues or who might be considering bariatric surgery for weight loss.  

I did NOT intend this blog to be a window into my life for my exes and their ridiculously nosy friends.  However, it seems that it's become that.

James has a so-called "Christian" friend named Angie.  Angie apparently has made it her mission to keep him apprised of all that's going on in my life--and it seems she couldn't wait to tell James and his current girlfriend, Jo, about my decision to move back to NY to be with my mom.

I'm sick--I have a sinus infection and really need to get some sleep, but I can't go to sleep without addressing this issue, so here goes:

Angie, mind your own DAMNED business.  I mean it.  Stop reading my blog.  It was never intended as a source of your gossip.  And "Christians" like you are why I stopped going to church.  You are small minded, judgmental and petty.  What's going on in MY life is MY business.  Not yours.  Nor is it James'.  He lost any right to know what's going on with me when he decided he couldn't be attracted to me when I lost the weight and when he left me alone during a freaking hurricane, not calling to check on me, but posting on Facebook how "worried" he was about me.

I would hate to stop writing this blog, because I know that it's helped other people.  It's helped ME. But if Angie cannot stop gossiping about MY life, I'm going to have to do just that.  In the meantime, Angie, if you're reading this (and I'm sure you ARE), tell James I said that this blog is no longer a source of entertainment for EITHER of you.  I'm sorry that your lives are so prosaic that you have nothing better to do, but I refuse to be a source of entertainment for either of you.  Angie, go to church and pray for forgiveness...and tell James he STILL owes me money for the laptop I bought him for his birthday. (Cheapskate that HE is, I always paid whenever and wherever we went--tickets to see "Wicked" on Broadway, tickets to Medieval Times, the movies, dinner, etc, etc, etc...)

 

Family Ties

In many ways, my life has changed dramatically over the past year and a half.  Losing 127 pounds can really alter a person, and I don't mean just physically.  

I am not the same person I was the morning of August 5, 2011 as the medical personnel at Rex Hospital wheeled me into surgery.  I am different--and I'm glad I'm different.  I think I'm constantly changing, evolving, embracing the change that keeps coming my way.

I don't know if it's the new year or the decision to move back to New York, but for some reason, I've been waxing nostalgic lately.  I have been thinking about relationships and how they change.  I have a few classmates from high school who married right out of high school--and are still married after 35+ years! I'm not sure how they've done it.  I am nowhere near the same person I was in high school.  I would hope that you aren't either!  So how do people do it?  I reflect on my marriage which lasted just 8 years, and I know he and I definitely wouldn't be together today, even if he had changed dramatically.

I have a friend who's been a friend since 4th grade.  Fourth grade!  We don't see each other often--maybe just once a year (although I hope that will change now that I'm moving north) but even at that infrequency, I know that she's someone on whom I can count--and I would do anything for her.  I have other friends that have stayed friends for 20+ years, while others have popped in and out of my life without leaving so much as a forwarding address.  Why do people come and go?  Are they there for a little while to teach us something?  For us to teach them?  I remember Pat, Michelle, Michele and Nancy, Nancy and Judy.  And Ginny.  They were there--and now they aren't.  I haven't heard from these women in 30 years...and yet I thought at the time that we were close!  And I guess we were.  I shouldn't dismiss the friendship because the years have separated us.  We were there for each other when we needed each other--and I guess that's all that matters.

In my life, friends have come and go.  But family?  Family is there for you no matter what.  Remembering that makes going back to New York an easy decision.  My mom needs me now, and I need her.  Friends my age are losing their parents.  Parents are falling and getting injured or having strokes.  Parents are going into nursing homes or hospitals or rehab centers.  Parents are becoming the children as the roles of caregiver/care "taker" are reversed.  I am grateful that my mother is in pretty good health right now.  But at nearly 82, I'm not going to take that for granted.  I don't think anyone should!

If you're lucky enough to have your parents, hug them.  Tell them you love them.  Spend the day with them.  Take time out of your busy life to say "thank you".  "Thank you for raising me, for loving me, for giving me life."  Do it now...while you can.