Weighty Matters

I’ve been reading up on Body Dysmorphic Disorder.  I’d not heard the term before, but then ran across it in a magazine and it caught my interest.  I’ve spoken before about how I have “fat eyes”.  I always see myself as obese — okay, I have always been obese — but more to the point, I see myself heavier than I am, even when I lose weight.  I’ve lost over 55 pounds recently and everyone I work with tells me that they see the difference.  I still don’t.  Whether I look in the mirror or look at a picture, I still only see an obese, misshapen body.

Even with the caveat that I am still greatly overweight, I should be able to see some degree of difference with a 55 pound weight loss.  I can feel it — in my ability to move and walk, in my clothes, in the fact that I no longer struggle to put on my car seat belt.  I just don’t see it.

So, I wanted to research if this is just part of having always been overweight or if I actually have a disorder that requires treatment.   I started investigating the issue online.  I found a site that described and defined BDD.  It seemed to focus on people who focus on one aspect of their appearance that they perceive as horribly flawed or ugly and it completely wrecks their social interactions, drives them to seek out excessive plastic surgery, burdens them with shame, etc.  That site also separated BDD from people who have eating disorders and are overweight.  It didn’t seem to consider an image of perpetually heaviness as a qualification of BDD.

“Okay,” I thought.  “I do not have BDD.”

However, I do have a continuing negative self-image.  I can’t remember a time when I had a good body image.  Over Christmas, I was looking through my brother and sister-in-law’s wedding album.  I was darned slender for me!  My face, body, legs.  I even had a waistline!  I was surprised.  I clearly did not remember being that shape almost 30 years ago.

So, I started researching body image.  I took a self test and scored very high, which prompted this explanation:

You are suffering from a condition called body dysmorphic disorder (BDD) which is translated as body hatred. This is not a reflection of how you actually look or how other people see you, because there are very many people who have physical handicap, or, who look different from the norm. But they do not feel this badly about themselves. Similarly there are people who look very normal in reality but they experience this sense of deep hostility toward the way they look. BDD and a damaged sense of self-esteem go hand in hand.                           

People with BDD are at high risk of developing a variety of serious emotional problems such as social phobias, depression and eating disorders. Anorexia and bulimia for example, are examples of BDD, but BDD shows itself in many ways, some people develop an obsession with weighing themselves, seeking cosmetic surgery or engaging in punishing exercise regimes.     

So, I have this site telling me that I do have BDD and by reading this, I could start to believe that maybe the BDD lead to the eating disorder eons ago.

You know what?  I’m not convinced — not when there are conflicting opinions.   Maybe it’s a chicken and the egg kind of thing.  I’ve had an eating disorder, so I’ve always been obese and most obese people don’t like their bodies and that’s why I have this negative body image.  Or, maybe because I was chubby as a kid, I developed lousy body image and self-esteem and that’s caused me to always eat about it, descend into an eating disorder and just fuel the problem physically and emotionally.  Damned if I know.  I suppose the smart thing would be to consult a therapist about it and sift through the opinions to get to the real decision.

In the meantime, I’m trying to change my attitude.  I have seen the weight loss in my hands, of all places.  I can feel it in my clothes, like I said before.  I said I was going to take an updated picture and do a side-by-side comparison.  I didn’t because I hated still seeing myself in a way I considered to be obese and gross.  Looks like I need to bite the bullet and do it for real.

My intention is to improve my negative self-image and embrace my new self as I’m emerging.  Where I am today is still not great, but it’s surely better than I was two months ago.  Two months from now, it will be better still.

Hating my body and berating myself over it are not positive attitudes.  They do not belong in my every changing, ever-improving life!

My friends and co-workers have started to see the weight loss in my face and body.  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised since, even though I started out super obese, losing over 45 pounds is a big chunk of weight.  I can feel the loss in some clothes that used to be tight and now fit nicely and others that fit well and are now on the edge of too big.

The biggest difference that I feel is in simple movement — doing my Tai Chi, walking without my heart pounding and my lungs striving to suck in air.  Wlthough I was still a little achy after being on my feet for three hours the other day, my ankles and knees didn’t throb with pain for the rest of the night.  These are all very positive improvements that make me happy.

I just can’t wait until I see the weight loss in myself.  Even if I stare in the mirror it’s like I have some sort of internal vision filter that still shows me at my highest weight. When it comes to my own body, my perception does not run true.   I call this syndrome “fat eyes”.

Oddly enough, I see the reduction in my hands.  The backs of my hands aren’t as puffy.  My fingers look long and lovely and my rings are loose.  This, too, is positive progress!

I wish I knew how to change the way that I see myself.  Sure, this will eventually happen.  At some point, my collar bones will be revealed, my face will thin, the huge rolls around my abdomen and stomach will grow smaller.  My ass will no longer be gargantuan with a shelf you could set china on.  I’ll be thinner all over and then, finally, I will see my progress from forehead to feet and all parts in between.

But I’m impatient.  When I look at myself in the mirror, I’d like the real reflection to look back — not the still inflated Mary.  I guess my vision’s just broken and I’m not sure how to fix it.  Maybe I just need to journey on until I’ve lost twice the weight that I have already.  Part of the problem is that I carry images of myself at different weights so what’s been revealed so far is a slightly less fat version of myself that I remember.  So it isn’t new to me.  I’m not sure.

I’ve decided to take new photos of myself with every 50 pound drop in weight. I’m almost positive that, when studying side by side evidence of my progress even my fat eyes won’t obscure the view. In the meantime, while I work toward this new vision and changing my fat eyes syndrome, what I really need to cultivate is patience.

Are you objective about your bodies?  Do you see yourself truly?

I’ll try not to whine too much, but since this blog is about the journey and I pledged to be honest, I need to share the bad stuff along with the good.

Not that there’s a lot of bad stuff, it’s just that I feel like I’ve been on a roll, accumulating positive change after positive change.  Then this morning hit and I’ve felt like crap since waking up.  One of the side effects of the transitional diets is that, internally, things don’t move along smoothly.  (How’s that for a polite allusion?)  All systems are not go and it’s bothersome.  Then, my stomach’s felt queasy all morning.  About half an hour ago I decided I’d probably feel better if I just threw up, so instead of fighting it, I did just that.

Oddly enough, I do feel marginally better than before, so I guess that’s a plus.

For my final complaint of the day, I’m tired of getting tired.  I worked an event yesterday at my day job, standing around talking to people should not wipe one out, but after only three hours I was exhausted.  When I got home I ate a little something and then flopped in the recliner with my ever-present large glass of fluids beside me.  I was so tired I couldn’t even nap, which is weird because I can normally catch shut-eye anywhere.  However, I soon wasn’t sleepy and stayed up through the entire, fairly boring, Oscar Awards presentation.  (How bored was I?  I flipped to Food Network’s Worst Cooks in America show at 9 p.m. and only returned to the Oscars during commercial breaks.  Don’t think I missed any major awards.)

So, this morning I woke up queasy, phlumphy (made up word for how I feel intestinely) and tired.  No energy to speak of on a day when I really wanted to recommit to daily exercise.

Whine whine whine, complain complain, bitch, moan, kvetch.

I need to break this down.  Logically, I believe the transition to pureed and soft foods is creating the issues.  After six weeks of liquids, my body needs to readjust to different food items and I might have pushed it a little.  I didn’t overeat — who can overeat when a couple of tablespoons at a time fills you up? — but I might have tried to introduce a greater variety of pureed and soft foods in too short a time period.  So, I’m scaling back.  I started the day with a good old reliable protein shake and packed a food I know my stomach can handle for snack/lunch at work.  On the way home, I’ll pick up an over the counter aid to help get things moving inside.

I will diligently sip sip sip sip sip water and not force the issue with my queasy stomach.  I already know that taking in too much at one time makes me want to hurl so why push it?  Small sips only but on a consistent basis will keep me hydrated without the nasty reaction.

As for the tiredness, I need to remember that I’m not completely healed and recovered from the surgery.  The guy that called me yesterday told me that his surgery wiped him out for a couple of months.  I need to remind myself that I am not a wimp if I feel tired after several hours of working.  I also need to remember that when I’m full of energy and feel like I can take on the world, I have a tendency to overdue and my body will make me pay for that the next day.  So, everything in moderation.   Plus, I need to not beat myself up over the tiredness.  It’s to be expected, not to be resented or battled.

This too shall pass.  I know this logically and emotionally.  As time goes on I’ll feel better and better.  I’m confident that there will bemany  greater days than today.

I don’t know that anyone who is overweight truly doesn’t always have that knowledge and awareness of their extra pounds in their head.  I sure couldn’t ever not think of it.  I often felt like my weight proceeded me into the room and, when I blew past merely large into super obesity, it was always my first consideration.  Whenever I faced a new task or wanted to try a particular activity, I first measured it in my head against my body size.  Would I be able to do it?  What if I couldn’t?  How should I handle it?  There were several years in the 1990s when I was always a nervous wreck about going anywhere that might require me to go through a turnstile, so sure was I that I might get stuck.

These considerations were always accompanied by stress, shame and humiliation.  If I thought this way then surely everybody around me also thought the same things when they saw me.  I don’t actually know if they did, but I had to assume so.  Every once in awhile someone would voice a comment, often as if I couldn’t hear.  To my knowledge there is no such thing as obesity-induced deafness, folks, so please keep that in mind.  We hear and, true or not, it hurts.

Since making the decision to have the weight loss surgery and then actually going through the procedure, I have noticed an incredible shift in my thinking.   I’m losing the “I won’t be able to”, the “I don’t think I should try that” and the “Oh my God, what if the worst happens?” thoughts.  Simple truth is that nothing is getting in the way of my continuous weight loss.  If I can’t physically do something now, at some point in the future, I most certainly WILL.  No more pipe dreams or impossible wishes.

Along with the thoughts, the shame and humiliation are also rapidly fading from my life.

The other day I was on a team from work that was out on our boats.  Specifically, I had to board one boat that was loaded with stuff and pick my way around to a seat.  This was my first week back at work full time and I realized quickly that I don’t have 100% of my strength back, nor my sea legs.  I felt clumsy and unsure of my footing and my team mates were quick to offer a strong hand to help shore up my balance and get me to a safe perch.

The same thing happened when we were out on the water and I had to transfer to another boat.  Without any big deal being made, help was there and I was successful.

In the past, I would have been mortified that I needed this help because my excess weight made me less graceful and sure.  The negative feelings would have burned in my gut like the worst possible heartburn times 20.

Instead, each time I could smile, accept the help and proceed with the task.  I knew in my heart and my mind that it’s not always going to be this way.  The more weight that I lose, the stronger I’ll get and the more balanced I’ll be.  My confidence will also increase after getting pretty beaten down in the last year.  I also remembered that thinner people sometimes need a hand or a balance check — not just overweight folks.   If any of the other folks on the team had needed a hand, any of us would have offered it without hesitation.

We who are overweight, carry more than the extra physical pounds.  We carry a heavy burden on our spirit, often without realizing how much it weighs us down.  It’s a joyful thing to shed that weight too.  Talk about lightness of being!

Contrary to what people might have believed, I’ve always been aware of my obesity.  I think some people believe that I was unaware of it or choosing to ignore it because I wasn’t devoting every waking hour to dieting.   Nothing could be further from reality.  Excess weight is carried with us all of the time — physically, mentally, and emotionally.  I have never once thought that I didn’t have to do something about it — there was never any denial — but what I knew and what I was able to accomplish were worlds apart.

After years of the diet-lose-stop dieting-gain cycle, there are times when I wanted to forget or ignore or just say, “What the hell” and eat because that cycle is exhausting.  Dieting is hard work, always thinking about what we can’t/can/should/shouldn’t eat; making sure we have the right stuff around and that we’ve planned our meals.  We lose and float on the euphoria of success.  Eventually, we stop dieting and, despite our most iron clad intentions, eventually we lapse from our healthier eating, backslide and regain the weight.  That wears on the heart, mind, and soul as much as it does on our body.

We are hyperaware and positive that our weight is the first thing everybody notices or thinks about when they see us.  Even if we don’t actually hear someone say, “She’d be such a pretty girl if she’d lose weight” or “She has such a pretty face, why doesn’t she lose weight” or even, “I can’t believe she’s going to eat that when she really should lose weight”, we assume they are thinking those very things or some close variation.

Maybe they are and maybe they aren’t, but one thing’s for sure.  When you’re overweight and go to the doctor, you’re going to hear about it.  Depending on the doctor, the admonishment will be delivered harshly or gently, but the message is there.  I don’t think it’s inappropriate.  Your doctor’s job is to help you maintain good health so a doctor with an overweight patient who doesn’t urge that person to lose pounds for their health is not going his or her job.  I do, however, think that some doctors need to look at how they deliver the message.

I once went to see a doctor when I had severe abdominal pain.  Even though he knew I’d been hurting for days and was feverish, before he addressed the immediate complaint and examined me, he delivered a lecture on my obesity and told me I needed to have weight loss surgery as soon as possible.  I swear at that moment I knew he was probably right, but damned if I agreed with his timing.  I’m sure I was inappropriately flippant when I said that I understood his concern but could we please concentrate on the problem at hand but, dammit, I was in freaking pain!

The next morning, that same surgeon removed my gall bladder.  I’d developed a stone the size of a Spanish olive that had lodged in the bile duct.  Pain relieved — physically at least.  The following day, he delivered another lecture about my weight and surgery before signing my release papers.  I’d inherited this doctor when my primary care physician retired but right at that moment I knew I never wanted to see him again for checkups or treatment.

Over the years, there have been many times when I ignored routine medical checkups so I could avoid potential lectures.   You can get away with this when you’re younger, but the older you get, the more you’re jeopardizing yourself.   There are chronic health conditions that go undiagnosed and, therefore, untreated.  I’m sure I should have been on Metformin and high blood pressure meds for years before I actually started taking them.    I’m lucky I didn’t develop even more problems.

Shortly after the gallbladder incident, a friend told me about her primary care physician — a warm, wonderful woman.  Determined to take better care of myself, I made an appointment and have seen her regularly ever since.  She’s a terrific doctor.  She treats me like an intelligent woman and not like an idiot who’s too stupid to go on a diet.  She monitors my conditions and talks to me honestly but without accusations and encourages me gently without scolding.  When I went to her last summer and told her I accepted that I needed to have weight loss surgery and asked her to help me, she referred me to the surgeon that she’d worked with for other patients.  In short, she has helped me to take better care of myself.

That’s the key.  No matter how overweight we might be, we cannot afford to ignore our care.  I hope everyone finds a doctor like the one I see now, and not like the other guy.  No matter where we are on the scale, and what we are or aren’t doing about it, we need to address the other conditions that we might have.  After all, when we finally get our weight on track, we want to be healthy enough to enjoy our improvements.

I don’t know about anybody else, but as an overweight woman, my excess avoirdupois is/was always on my mind.  There’s no escaping, unless you count eating yourself into a temporary food coma.  I was always conscious of the extra pounds I carried around.  Anytime I walked, and particularly if I had to go up stairs or even step up on a curb, I felt how the weight impacted my body.  Every day normal activities that most people give little to no thought to accomplishing had to be assessed before proceeding.  Could I do them?  What would it take?  What if I couldn’t?

If I rented a car, would the seat belt go around me?  Would that rented chair at the party be strong enough to hold me or would it break under the strain?  Would I get stuck in the turnstile? At a party or dinner, was there room between tables for me to navigate?

It’s hard to relax and enjoy a social gathering with so many things to consider and so many possible catastrophes weighing on the mind.

This is one of the positive results of weight loss that I’m looking forward to the most.   I can’t wait to not have to constantly measure things and situations.  Although I will always have to think about my food and what I eat and drink, I won’t have to worry about whether I’ll be able to relax at the table and enjoy the meal.