to weigh or not to weigh....

[Guest guest]

I am a firm believer that we compulsive types require something to

obsess over. Getting weigh is like a victimless crime. If we have to do

something, this is the least damaging. Fay Bayuk

[Guest guest]

I've been following the scale/anti-scale discussion with much interest. Way

back in 1992, I lost 95 pounds " on my own " , by going to Weight Watchers and

exercising. Didn't get even within hailing distance of where I am now, but

it was my 95 pounds and I was damn proud of it. I had to stop losing at the

point when I became pregnant, but I reassured myself that I could take up

where I left off, lose the pregnancy weight, blah blah blah, you know the

deal. Of course, I went back on WW as soon as my doctor okayed it, and my

weight gain (40 lb) stayed exactly, precisely where it was. My body had

learned a lesson (yet another one) about its crazy owner and her propensity

to starve it, and it was not going to let go of those pounds, come hell or

high water.

It was at this point that I got well and truly frustrated (like I wasn't

before!) and decided that I was never going to get weighed again. I would

let my body dictate its needs to me, and I would follow along and try to

adapt. I would learn to love myself as a fat person, because this was

obviously my destiny; I had no health problems associated with being

overweight, so it seemed as though my body was just " happier " being fat.

Why fart against thunder? So for several years (8, to be exact), I could

not be persuaded to touch a scale. I knew that I was getting heavier, as I

outgrew my size 18s, then my size 20s....up to 24, in the spring of 2000. I

am 5'10 " , and people used to say I could " carry " the weight well (by which

they presumably meant that I was still taller than I was wide), but I

avoided not only scales, but mirrors, cameras, plate glass windows...kinda

like a vampire avoids daylight. On the outside, I preached fat acceptance,

but on the odd occasions when someone snapped a candid shot of me and I saw

myself as the world saw me, I was devastated. This was not the " me " I felt

like on the inside! I didn't really look like that...did I?

One day when I was feeling particularly low because my heel spurs and my

hip and knee pain were acting up again, I was sitting at the computer with

my brand-new ADSL hook-up (thank you, computer geek son!), and just out of

sheer frustration and desperation, I punched in " stomach stapling " . I knew

absolutely nothing about gastric bypasses, RNYs, BPD/DSs, MGBs, OSSGs or

any of the other fun acronyms we grads now throw about with such gay

abandon. All I knew is that I was fat and getting fatter, I'd left my 30s

behind and was starting to develop some serious co-morbs, and I was

desperate for an answer. Any answer. As you all know, there is a plethora

of info available online, and soon I was practically swimming in it. By the

next week, I'd made up my mind: I was going to pursue a gastric bypass.

Anything had to be better than the way I was living now. Fast forward to

the fall of 2001, and I was just waking up with a nasogastric tube down my

throat, and a plumber's nightmare of tubes and wires sticking out of my

body. At that point, though I didn't know it, I was on my way to developing

a brand new relationship not only with my body, but with (cue scary music)

The Scales. Yes, the Scales of Doom were about to become my friend.

I have loved losing all this weight over the past 15 months, but one thing

scares me: the spectre of rebound. And this morning, I have to tell you, I

am feeling nervous about my weekly weigh-in at the gym (always first thing

before my workout, always clad only in undies, to make sure I'm not

weighing my jeans as well as my body), because this past week and a half

has been a whirlwind of social obligations, during which I've definitely

eaten more than usual. However, I am going to get weighed later this a.m.,

and I'll use that information for what it is: not a judgment, not a

condemnation of my stupid holiday eating patterns, but as information, pure

and simple. If the news is " bad " -- i.e., if I've gained more than a pound

or two -- I will go back to first principles. Protein, water, six small

meals, no grazing. The Gospel according to St. Freeman (my surgeon...can

Jewish surgeons be recognized as saints? Must ponder this....)

Okay. Right now I am off to buy something called a USB keyboard because my

own system has gone belly up and refuses to type a variety of letters and

symbols on command. Thank you again, computer geek son, for diagnosing and

helping me fix this problem. (Re. the miracle of how I am typing this when

my own system won't type a,d,s,l, j, k, i, or spaces....I'm using my

husband's small and extremely annoying laptop. The chihuahua of computers.

And I prefer Great Danes. In a metaphorical sense, that is. Okay, should go

before I devolve completely and my message becomes even more opaque and

elliptical....need coffee, need coffee......)

Have a great day, all....

[Guest guest]

:

How articulate you are! I loved your post---While I've been trying not to

weigh because it drives me to obsessive/compulsive weighing on the

scale---After much introspection, I realize that I MUST weigh and MUST

learn to weigh once a week--no more/no less-- to keep me on track with my

new healthy lifestyle---healthy today, that is, because it is 10:21 a.m. I

just had my protein drink and had a particularly good exercise

session----who knows what this afternoon may bring?

P.S. Wish I had a computer geek son (I have five boys and one girl--none

particularly computer geek like)---I could use help with all this crazy

technology that I have in my office!

Pratta

Independent Advertising Sales Agent

The Washington Post

ext. 7628

fax