catijoefarm
Hoo-boy! S**t just got real.
Jul 04, 2014
On Thursday a phone call came from the bariatric doc’s office. The young lady on the other end was very nice as she told me that I had only lost 7 lbs.
I know.
“And you have an appointment with the dr. in two weeks.”
I know.
“If you don’t drop at least 8 more lbs, your surgery will have to be pushed back.”
I kn….wait, what??!! I thought I had until the surgery date to drop the weight?!
She then politely explained that no, that’s not the case. It has to be by the next visit so the doc knows 1. I’m committed to this and 2. he’ll have a better idea as to how complicated or easy it’s going to be once he starts the surgery.
Oh boy. My immediate reaction was to get defensive. I got upset, my answers became curt, and I couldn’t wait to get off the phone. After I hung up I thought about my reaction. It wasn’t the receptionist’s fault that she had to make that call. It wasn’t her fault I hadn’t lost the suggested weight and yet I took things out on her. I definitely owe her a phone call to apologize.
I used to react like this all the time when I got called on the carpet for something I had done (now I see where my kid gets it from). I don’t do this anymore, I’ve changed, or at least I thought I had until that phone call. I have gotten much, much better at taking responsibility for something when it is my fault. Except for this time and I think it’s because I was am ashamed.
Ashamed that I had four months to lose 20 lbs and it hasn’t happened. Ashamed that once again I was going to change the way I ate and it hasn’t happened. I should know by now that I am a food addict and I can’t pretend that when there is ice cream in the house I’ll only have 1/2 c. one night a week. I can’t go into any store where candy is sold when I’m feeling vulnerable (nee, angry, sad, bored) because I will buy said candy and eat it in the car so no one knows. Not even me, because I block that shit right out of my mind. Unless I journal every morsel that goes into my mouth, it magically leaves my memory. Until, that is, I get on the scale and it doesn’t go down, try on those clothes and they’re a little tight, or get that phone call from the surgeon’s office that jerks me back to reality.
That phone call really made it clear to me and I had a “come to Jesus” talk with myself and the voice sounded amazingly like Gunny. “How bad do you want this surgery!?” Very badly. “How committed are you to making the changes you need to make for this to be successful!?” I’m committed. “How commited?!” Really, really committed. “Okay soldier, then kick that attitude to the curb, follow the doc’s eating plan, and do the hard work!” Yes sir!
So yesterday after I worked out at the gym for over an hour, I went to Wal-Mart (or the Wal-Mart as my hubby likes to say) to buy protein powder for my morning meals and Lean Cuisines for lunch and dinner. If I’m hungry in between it will be veggies for snacks. And water. Lots and lots of water.
I’ve come too far for this. I am not going to fail.
