When I say I’m Not Ok

Some mornings I wake up and it’s already choking me. I can feel it sitting at the top of my throat like the aftertaste from the day before. It whispers, “Today will be impossible” before my feet hit the ground. I don’t feel it crawl into bed at night, but it’s laying on my chest when I wake up.

Sometimes anxiety starlets me out of nowhere; Like the gunshot to start the race has suddenly gone off, before you saw the trigger pulled, in a race you didn’t mean to be in. Out of nowhere you’re scared, confused and have to run. Sometimes these tip over into full blown attacks for me. (Read about the joy of that HERE) Other times I just have to be alone for an hour. Other times tears stream down my face for no reason at all for an hour.

Anxiety looks different on everyone and can hide behind so many things.

Other times I can feel my anxiety building over days. At first I can be reasonable and tolerate it. I go for a quick run, journal a bit, have a cup of coffee and deal with it. Then the next day it gets harder, and then a little harder. Then I’ll have a day where no matter what I do, I just can’t. There’s absolutely nothing I can do to resolve the discomfort I feel. Have you ever been so sun burned that it hurt to wear clothes? Sometimes hours after you can still feel the heat of your skin. None of your favorite things can soothe you and everything hurts. My anxiety feels like that, but on the inside. It buzzes and radiates just under my skin. It makes me so uncomfortable I can’t stand being myself. And even though I try, nothing makes me feel much better.

These are the days I say, “I’m not ok.” There are a few people in my life that totally understand what this means from me. Amy is one of those people. Maybe it’s because she works in mental health, maybe it’s because she’s married to a cute EMT, maybe it’s because she just has the biggest heart I’ve ever seen but she gets it better than anyone. If I tell Amy “I’m not ok”, it’s like going through a triage list. I immediately have her full attention. First she asks what I’ve tried, how I’m feeling, what happened, what can she do….. but most of all, she listens and then says she’s sorry.

People with anxiety don’t need to hear positive affirmations. I don’t like to be told “the things I haven’t tried”. I don’t want you to belittle my feelings but affirm that they have meaning. As ridiculous as my anxiety can be, I never want to be told I’m ridiculous. Don’t tell me to shrug it off or just look on the brighter side. Tell me I’ll be ok and that it’s just gonna be crappy for a little while longer.

Amy doesn’t try to fix me. She doesn’t judge me or expect me to be something I’m not. She meets me where I am. She reminds me that I’ve made it before. She reminds me what’s worked before which helps me see, I’ve survived this before. She helps me ride the waves of my anxiety instead of telling me the wave isn’t there. She stands with me in the storm and offers any kind of umbrella she has. She’s a ride or die kind of friend. I’ll always be grateful to have her in my life.

If you’re dealing with anxiety yourself, make sure you’re clear with your needs with those around you. I try to warn loved ones as best I can that I’m having a hard time, before it’s too hard. If you’re dealing with loved ones that have anxiety, just listen. Just meet them where they are at. Just say you’re sorry. It’s ok not to understand anxiety or know what it looks or feels like. Just do your best to listen. And when someone says they’re not ok, take it seriously.

Working through Recovery

So this week it was back to work! Personal trainers work by the hour and don’t get sick days. If I don’t work, I don’t get paid, so it was essential that I get back to work. It was a really hard decision of when was the right time and I don’t think I did make the right decision in the end. However, I made it, just with a lot of support and tears.

Monday: Recovery Day 15

Going back to work on Monday was incredibly hard. I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay home forever even though I was feeling isolated. What if I returned and didn’t meet everyone expectations? I was anxious all weekend working up to it. I didn’t expect it to be too hard phyiscally because I had felt my stamina getting better and better through the weekend. I didn’t sleep much at all the night before. I’ve been having trouble sleeping this whole process. My body is used to expending 3000-3500 cals a day including my basal metabolic rate and running a 5K at minimum. Right now I take two flights of stairs a day and sit as much as possible. My expenditure is 2000-2200 calories a day and…….I can’t sleep. I just don’t need it like I usually do. I lay in bed anyway but I don’t sleep much. I know my body is still using a lot of energy to heal so I haven’t adjusted my food too much but I can definitely tell my sleep cycle is off.

Going into work Monday morning, I cried the whole way. I was nervous, tired, sore and didn’t know how I was gonna do this. I had a four hour shift and then an evening class to teach. Everyone asked how I was doing. Everyone seemed sympathetic and wanted to help me. My colleague carried my bags from the parking lot. Everyone kept telling me to sit down and barely touched me when they hugged me. AND EVERYONE STARED.

I think I give off a certain energy at the gym on a normal day. I walk very quickly, have a bubbly smile and have been working on my posture for the last year. So when I’m walking in slightly hunched from the closest space in the parking lot and barely have the energy to smile, let a lone say hello? It felt terrible. I hated not being myself. I felt like everyone was starting at me. The people that knew looked at me with pity. The people that didn’t looked at me with confusion and judgement. It felt like being morbidly obese. I didn’t expect that at all. For a few hours, I felt like the elephant in the room that I used to be.

After crying in Gary’s office, I knew it was all in my head. Even if people were staring and judging, should I even care? I had spent two weeks controlling my environment and choosing who could see me and when. Being thrown back in the workplace was difficult and uncomfortable. I wanted to leave and hide from the moment I got there. BUT I didn’t. I got through my lifting and boxing classes, mostly from a seated position. As soon as I could I went home and rested. Then completed my class in the evening, also shouting from a chair in the corner.

Tuesday: Recovery Day 16

Naps in the trainers office!

Tuesday felt a little easier and a little harder. I was at work for 8 hours that day while I only completed 4 hours of work. (Trainer life, am I right?) During the hours between clients I showered and took naps on the floor in the trainers office. While I still felt a lot like I did on Monday, I was a little more relaxed and focused on what I needed. I was in a lot of pain on Monday and was needing my pills before it was time for the first time in a week. Tuesday I woke up sore and was more careful about taking the elevator and resting in a laying down position. Gravity matters people.

My awesome Co Coach Shaun picking up my slack and demonstrating exercises for me

On Tuesdays I have private clients and Tribe class. Luckily I have a partner to help me teach class because I can’t demonstrate ANYTHING. Thanks to Shaun I was able to emotionally and physically keep it together and fake it through that hour. I immediately went home after the 8 hours and slept. I felt like I had done some reverse to my healing over those first two days. I had more pain than I’d had in a week and it left me questioning if I’d returned to work too soon. I knew my schedule was lighter the following two days so I decided to power through not knowing if it was smart and thinking most likely it was not.

My Tribe Team completing their favorite movement: Straight Crawl

Wednesday: Recovery Day 17

On Wednesday I took a big turn for the better. I got to sleep a little later that day. My drain started to decrease FINALLY. My usual day starts at 6am and I didn’t have boxing until 9 am. The chill time in the morning was exactly what I needed. I held boxing class and a session with a private running client. I focused on always taking the elevator and not using the stairs. I sat down as much as possible and tried to focus on being myself emotionally, hoping it would help me physically.

I had to return to the gym at 2pm for a photo shoot. The photos would be used for some promotional materials coming out in the New Year and specially for Tribe Team Training where I’m a coach. I could do nothing. I couldn’t hold a kettle bell. I shouldn’t be stretching my arms over head. I can’t even plank. So my photos were pretty limited. Instead of letting it get to me that I ‘couldn’t do anything’ I tried to insert myself every time I could do something. When I wasn’t needed I sat down and focused on being relaxed. I actually made it thought without getting depressed or down on my self. I completed two more sessions and went home for the night. Wednesday was the first day I DIDN’T cry, even in Gary’s office.

Thursday: Recovery Day 18

(When I write what day it is, I’m shocked how little time has actually passed!) Thursday got even better. Same sort of routine: 6 am class, a few private clients, a few naps. The more I focus on NOT doing my normal things physically, the more I feel like myself emotionally. My self image, my emotions, and my physical state are all starting to align and it feels incredible. Weird but incredible.

That afternoon I saw my surgeon. Dr. Gerow gave me and A plus on healing and gave his blessing to peel off the glue that’s been holding me together. He also gave me an appointment to have my drain removed TODAY! (Friday) So it feels like I’ve reached another finish line. While I’m not healed or recovered yet, I’m getting a lot closer and I can let my body do the work now.

This photo is Day 8 and 18. On days 8-10 the bruising was the worse. Now the glue is removed and I’m seeing my actual scar. You can also see my abs are slowly reattaching to the skin.

Friday: Recovery Day 19

Kim’s Normal Friday Schedule:

5:15 am Run 3-5 miles (Nope……)

6:00 am Yoga with Chris (Nope……)

7:00 am Private Client (out for surgery)

8:00 am Private Boxing Client (recovering from surgery)

9:00 am I usually leave open for new clients (nope)

So instead? I’m laying on my couch writing you this blog and it feels awesome. 🙂 Not only did I need a 4 day work week this week but I feel like I earned it. While each day got easier, the beginning of the week was rough and definitely showed in my body and mind. If you’re considering this surgery and can take 3 weeks off, DO IT. If I could have had even two more days it would have made a difference but hindsight is 20/20.

I was trying to make some before/after photos today and instead of using what I had, I took new ones. I put on the same bra and unders I took my before photos in and HOLY CRAP. I love the old photos more and more. They really do show how my body was stuck in that skin. My new body looks exactly how I dreamed it would. My brain is constantly catching up. Turns out there was a six pack under there and I’m still reattaching to my muscle wall. I can’t flex my abs yet but I can now sneeze and laugh without much pain. And my emotions? I’m on a high!

Emotions and Intimacy

Yep. I’m gonna talk about it: sex. I know we’re not supposed to. I know that we are all supposed to assume we are having the same amount of healthy sex and not ask other people about it. If you’ve got young kids, it’s assumed you probably aren’t having any. Married more than 10 years? You’ve definitely decreased to holidays and birthdays. Unless it’s at brunch with the ladies, we just lie and say everything is normal right? Right? Too bad. We’re gonna talk about because I don’t think it gets talked about enough. I made sure to discuss this post with my hubby before sharing any of this so he would feel respected. FYI.

When I was morbidly obese, Dan and I did the deed our usual 1-2 times a week. I always thought that was pretty healthy and took pride in that. We’ve ebbed and flowed throughout time, but I never thought we were having much trouble in this department. This works out to about…..over 13 years of marriage……..carry the 1……probably a thousand times or more. I’ve always thought that when it comes down to it: sex is the real litmus for the quality of your relationship. I’m obviously talking to the long term relationship and married people in the house. The 3 plus years folks. I thought I had sex figured out in my 20s. I thought I had it figured out when we were 10 years in. I assumed we had nearly peaked now in our mid 30s. But can I just tell you: all of my Top 5 Performances have been rewritten in the last month, all in my old body.

Dan and I in 2004 at the top of the Sears Tower, Chicago. One of our first dates. We’re such babies!

Rewind. When Dan and I were first dating (circa 2004 when everyone rocked a yellow Livestrong silicone arm band, Green Day hit #1 with American Idiot, and Facebook had just begun just to give you some reference) we didn’t have a ton of experience and figured it out like everyone else at that age. I already had some body issues even then. Dan has always been shy and we kind of stumbled through the whole thing together. Nobody teaches you how to treat each other, talk to each other, make each other feel loved and wanted. You’re just supposed to figure it out. But what if you don’t get it right? A lot of people don’t. This is the time in life when a lot 20 somethings learn to replace sex with attention and love because we don’t actually know what love is or should feel like. Now, I’ve been partnered with Dan since 2004. I knew then that he was my mate. But when did we learn to love each other properly? Much much much later. In some ways we are still learning.

August 11, 2006, New York New York Hotel, Las Vegas for our reception dinner

We got married in 2006 still in that weird space of being in love but not really knowing what it meant. When we got married we thought we knew what love was. Now when I look back, I laugh. We didn’t have a freaking clue. We had sex because you’re supposed to although neither of us felt very loved or wanted or really enjoyed it all that much. It was ok. I was so uncomfortable with my body by this time that I didn’t really matter what Dan said. My inner voices were louder. When you’re not attractive to yourself, who could be attracted to you? Who could love you when you can’t love yourself?

I know! I’ve read that quote a bajillion times! “You can’t love someone else if you don’t love yourself first.” I thought I loved myself. I have always liked my personality. I have one of those smiles that makes you want to talk to me. I’m smart and sassy and fiery. I don’t have a problem speaking my mind. I can command a room of adults or five year olds and get them to do what I want them to do. These were all things I loved about myself. But I didn’t love my body. I didn’t love the way I looked. Downward spiral………..then instead of fixing my body to help fix my marriage and sex life, I just got worse.

New Years Eve 2009 into 2010.

I have always found love to be conditional. There are people in your life that are supposed to love you no matter what. Through my childhood and up to college I had love ‘run out’ with family and best friends. People would just decide they didn’t like something about me and walk away. Slowly I didn’t make as many friends, learned to keep people at a distance and I had trouble accepting love from anyone. I didn’t understand unconditional love until I had it with Dan. Dan said he loved me 2 weeks after we went on our first date. I truly believed him for the first time last month. It wasn’t that he didn’t mean it. It wasn’t that he didn’t say it. It wasn’t that he didn’t DO IT. It was that I couldn’t accept it.

Our marriage was on a repeat loop from 2006 – 2012. Some mediocre sex, some fighting, lots of eating, boring weekends, dreams of better things but never changing. I still remember a knock down drag out fight we had where we were arguing that neither of us actually felt loved by the other person. It broke my heart. It breaks my heart to think about now. That’s when I made my ultimatum that would change both our whole lives and eventually our sex life.

Vacation to Denver, Summer 2011

We moved to Denver in 2012 and there was an immediate change in our marriage. We were both much happier and able to connect with each other more in and outside the bedroom. As we grew in confidence individually, our walls started to come down. I started changing a lot. Over 5 years, I lost 160 pounds, changed my beliefs, changed my career, my personality blossomed even more. The more my confidence grew, the more sex we had. The more I wanted to share myself with him and connect with him. And let me just say, when you’re morbidly obese, sex isn’t great. Things don’t fit how they are supposed to fit. You’re not as close (literally!) because there’s several layers of fat between you. While our sex was loving and exciting, it wasn’t movie sex. If any morbidly obese person could feel the difference in what sex can be like when you’re fit and thin, EVERYONE would do it now. Today. If you’re still searching for a real reason to lose weight, improving your sex life is a great reason.

Dan and I at Garden of the Gods, Colorado Springs, Colorado on our ten year anniversary: August 11, 2016. God I love this photo.

Soon after hitting my goal weight and the compliments and excitement taper off, so did our new exciting sex. We eventually settled back where we are comfortable. 1-2 times a week. Oh crap did we miss last weekend? Better put it on the to do list……. (pun intended) I slowly became more uncomfortable with my thin body. Even though I’d lost the weight, I still hadn’t solved all my body issues. We had another LOUD fight where both of us admitted we didn’t feel loved, wanted or desired even though we were having sex.

And then I set the due date of my surgery.

Setting the date of my surgery gave me a hard line. Either I’m gonna learn to love myself and figure this out for good, or I don’t deserve the surgery. I’ve always had a secret from Dan (of which I will not share here) that I thought would make me unlovable. I thought I’d keep the secret for when I wanted his love to end. I thought maybe keeping my secret was the ace in my pocket. If he ever decided to leave, which he would, he’d have a reason why. I could decide when he’d walk away.

My friend Gary has a way to ask you just the right question to turn your world upside down. We were having one of our crying sessions (one or both of us always cries I swear) and we were talking about my inability to accept love and feel loved. He asked me “Why are you so afraid Dan’s love will run out?” That’s when I knew. I was worried if Dan really knew everything, he’d walk away. This kept a barrier between us and also kept me from loving myself. Two weeks before the surgery we had an event that exposed my secret. I didn’t mean to tell him but I knew it was my chance. I had to know if I was still lovable, no secrets. Would his love actually be unconditional?

Having Dan know everything about me, even my most secret of secrets was hard. I felt vulnerable and scared but I also never expected to feel so weightless. Dan accepted my secret without conditions. Exposing myself to him so completely and have him love me in return was one of the best moments of my life. Turns out Dan has some secrets too. I thought we loved each other when we said “I do” but didn’t even know how yet. I thought we loved each other when we celebrated 10 years. But honestly, I think we only just figured it out. We’ve only now been completely ourselves. Unless you can love and expose every part of yourself to your partner, you’re not really loving them or yourself.

I have had the best sex of my life in the last month. I’m talking about movie, lasts for hours, is that the sun coming up? sex and enjoyed every second. Dan and I have been together over 1000 times and in some ways it feels brand new. We can’t get enough of each other and it’s like we’re making up for all the lost time. Every few years I think I’m having the best sex of my life, and then we get just get better at our marriage and the whole cycle starts again. I’m not sure it gets better than this but I hope to write you a new post in a few years about how wrong I was now. And by the way, this all happened in my old saggy skin body that I thought I’d never love. Turns out, that was all on the inside and the outside didn’t matter so much.

Our last picture together, moments before I would be in a surgical gown.
November 18, 2019

Now I feel loved and wanted by Dan all the time. (Ok, 98% of the time) Since Dan’s love language is Words of Affirmation, it’s so easy for me to love him in return now. I can’t wait to tell him how much I love and want him. Now I’m on 6 weeks rest. (2 down 4 to go…..) and not having sex has been in the top three things that are hard. I have joked with a lot of women about how hard it is to not have sex. Most don’t understand it. I’ve heard “A six week break would be my dream” and “What a blessing” and “You’re so lucky.” It makes me sad. I know where they are. They feel unloved and unwanted. They don’t really love themselves and have confidence issues. They can’t be fully exposed. But I gotta tell you, it’s the best I’ve ever felt. It’s the most loved I ever felt. This right now, is the best life I’ve ever lived.

More Recovery…..

Days 6-12 have been a little more difficult than the first week. The better I feel the more I want to move around but I get tired really quickly…….

Day 6 – 7

On Day 6, I finally left the house!!!! That morning, I woke up to something a little scary. Up until now, the only blood I’ve seen is the blood from my drain that I measure out of its little balloon at morning and night. On Day 6, I woke up with blood running down my right leg, from my drain. I immediately woke up Dan in case we had to go to urgent care. It was dried on my leg and as soon as I sat up, more came out. Of course when it’s your own blood, it seems like a lot. I’m still not really sure how much it was. Since I had Kaiser insurance (shout out!) I called the emergency nurse line since the offices weren’t open yet. I talked to an RN that assured me it was perfectly normal. Apparently, sometimes things (like a clot or a bubble) are too big to go down the tube, so they find the nearest exit. Since I’m glued shut everywhere else, these are my only exits. As long as the drain still has suction, it’s functioning. She told me to go to Walgreens and what sort of bandages we should get. YAY! Not only do I not have to spend the whole morning at urgent care, I get to go on a field trip!

The car ride was a little uncomfortable. When you can’t brace your core for bumps and turns, you just feel everything. We made it to Walgreens and got lunch. I tired out in about an hour of being out of the house. But, it was outside none the same!

Could I have left the house sooner? Probably not by much. Since I live upstairs, that adds extra work. Also, since it’s cold out, I have to be able to stand wearing a little bit of clothes at least. I think I started wearing pants the day before this.

Day 8 – First Post Op Appointment

In the last few days leading up to this appointment, my right drain started ‘drying up’ . It was hardly getting enough fluid out to measure in what they had given me. I had a feeling they were going to take it out which was both exciting and frightening. I really just wanted to hear that everything was looking great. Since I wasn’t able to drive yet, my oldest Denver friend Melody took me. I met Melody at my first gym here, Cole Fusion. She is one of the only people left in my life that knew me from before. It was kind of exciting to have her with me.

They called me back quickly. I knew I was just seeing the nurse today but everything went really quick. The nurse brought me back and asked me how everything was going, took my blood pressure and asked about my drains. I’m so used to being mostly naked now, and texting people pictures of my naked frankenbody that I just stripped and showed her. She giggled and asked me, “Do you want a gown?” Melody laughed too. I’m so comfortable in my body now that it really doesn’t even matter. The nurse looked at each drain and my incision. She thought everything looked wonderful and the right drain should come out. Once it’s below 30 ccs in a 24 hours period, they are ready to come out. I had taken my 2nd to last pain pill an hour before my appointment because I was afraid of the drains coming out.

GRAPHIC PIC ALERT COMING SOON!

“Is this gonna hurt?” I asked her. I knew I could take it. I’d been pretty miserable at points during this and it couldn’t be worse that that. “Most people say it just stings,” she said. She was right. I took a deep breath and she pulled a bunch of tubing out of me. I didn’t watch. I have no idea how much was inside me but I could feel in snake out from beneath midsection. Pretty weird. She covered the hole in my leg and changed my other dressing. She warned me what to look for now that the drain was out. As soon as I stood up, I felt great. The drains are placed across my hip flexors and it makes it uncomfortable, especially from sitting to standing, sometimes. Not anymore! My right leg moves so much better and more comfortably.

Minutes after getting my right drain removed on day 8 of recovery!

The nurse also said my other drain would hopefully dry up soon and everything looked ahead of schedule. Then she of course asked me why I had the surgery. ***Insert story I’ve rehearsed a million times and all her typical question and responses.*** Then she had to look at my pre op photos. A few months back Dr. Gerow had taken nude photos of me to prove the procedure was medically necessary, thus paid for by my insurance. She was shocked. Melody was shocked. I was shocked. Now, when I say nude, I mean I have no clothes on my lower half. However, as I’ve mentioned, I could stand fully naked and not show my lady flower. (which Dan says I have to stop calling it…..lol)

The nurse also gave me a binder. For the last few days, wearing underwear had felt nice. The compression around my opening was quite soothing. After the doctor we went to Walgreens again and then I went home and slept for a few hours. The whole outing was exhausting. I got on here and wrote and cried and wrote and cried. It felt therapeutic in a way. Check the last post for more.

Day 9-10

On days 9 -10, I started hitting my limit. I think I spent all of day 9 alone which hadn’t happened since I’d come out of my oxy cloud. I don’t remember what I did. I don’t think I did anything, and that’s just fine too. That night a friend invited me to do something, thinking maybe I was up for it, and I couldn’t go. I knew I shouldn’t go. So I had a pity party.

On Day 10, I got really sad. I woke up feeling lonely after having my pity party the night before. I know that this is all part of the process but, I interact with a lot of people every day. I work in such a social place that there’s always someone to talk to. You can’t go to the bathroom without running into three conversations. I’m missing it more and more. I’m an extroverted person and ‘isolation’ was really starting to get to me. I cried a lot that morning. Sometimes when I’m overwhelmed, I just cry. Tears just stream down my face for absolutely no reason and I can’t really stop. I called Dan and he tried to snap me out of it. It didn’t really help. I texted my friend Gary. I texted my friend Amy. Although they were all supportive, it didn’t seem to make a difference. I felt frustrated with everything and isolated. I was tired of being uncomfortable and slow. I needed to get it together and attempt some preThanksgiving baking. I was thinking back to a few days before when I’d tried to put my yoga pants on and failed. They were just too tight. However, since the drain had come out, the swelling had gone down at a much faster rate. Not only was my body learning how to absorb its own swelling, but my scar was becoming more and more exposed. I haven’t been taking measurements, but I just felt so much more comfortable. So I thought, let’s try again. When I put them on, I was shocked. I wear yoga pants every day for my job. (I know, be jealous) Putting my exact same pants on felt completely different.

I usually take a video to get a lot of my images and take a screen shot from within the video. When I watched the video back, I didn’t realize it, but I’d caught myself feeling where it all used to be. I caught my moments of disbelief.

I cried again seeing that picture of myself. I’m still learning that it’s gone. I’m still figuring it out. I still can’t believe how tiny I am after all this time. Later that day my friend Amy came over for a Muppet Christmas Carol related emergency. We talked, gossiped, baked, cursed, laughed, decorated cookies and had a completely normal girl time. It was exactly what I needed.

Day 11 – Thanksgiving

Dan and I have almost always done our own Thanksgiving. Even when we go to someone else’s house, we still have our own meal. We woke up late (9 am?) and I instructed Dan how to make rolls while I hollered from a stool in the corner. By the time they proofed three times I was past time to put the turkey in. Whatever. We were going to a friend of mines house, Jenny (who I thought was there when I woke up from surgery) for appetizers and drinks while the turkey was in. By the time I showered and got dressed it was noon. We were to go to Jenny’s in an hour. Dan was just about to open the turkey from its brine bath and……..POP. A transformer blows and the whole grid loses power. Um……..excuse me? I have a turkey to make in my ELECTRIC OVEN? It’s 20 degrees outside! How long will the apartment stay warm? After a quick roll call of which friends were even in town, I realized we were screwed. I had wet hair. I hadn’t baked the appetizer for Jenny’s. Grrrrrrrrrrreat.

So we went to Jenny’s and I blow dried my hair there while 5 new friends, 1 old friend and Dan waited. So silly. Dan gets an alert that the power should be back on soon. We have a great time at Jenny’s meeting new people, seeing her amazing house and it was the first time I was meeting her partner. But of course, I got tired quickly. I had to sit down most of the time I was there because Nurse Dan can’t take a holiday (HA!) and I didn’t really feel like myself the whole time. I felt comfortable just tired and not as outgoing as usual. We left Jenny’s at 3:45.

At 3:58 we pulled into King Soopers because let’s face it, we’re not eating Turkey at this point. Rotisserie Chicken will have to do this year. As we get out the cart guy says, “We close in two minutes. You can’t go in.” Yep. That seems about right. I’m about out of patience at this point but I try. I try so hard. We make it home. We wait for the the power to come on. The turkey goes in the over at 5:30, scheduled to be done at 9:30. Really? We decide to just go ahead with everything. We make the typical sides: mashed potatoes, corn, green bean casserole, stuffing, rolls, deviled eggs and……….lunchmeat. LOL. It actually wasn’t too bad. By the time the turkey was done, I was half a sleep. It was exhausting and unsatisfying no matter how much we tried to make the best of it.

Day 12

Are you still reading? This one got long……. Day 12 was black friday and I did not miss going out to stores. I shopped online and Dan took me two places when he got home. Does everyone know about site to store? LOL. I’m old fashioned and usually do my own shopping. Apparently you can just pick what you want from home and someone will get it together and bring it to the front. What?! Although convenient, I think I’ll keep shopping for myself. I spent the day alone but it was really nice after the hooplah of Thanksgiving. I needed time alone to think and just…..be alone for a while! While the swelling continues to go down at an alarming rate, the my last remaining drain still has 60 ccs coming out a day. This is double what I need to get it removed. This also means I’ll be returning to work on Monday with the drain still in. The more the swelling goes down, the more comfortable to drain is but…..kinda sick of it. That morning I emailed the nurses at Kaiser (look at me learning all the technologies the young folks are using!) to make sure my drainage was ok, which she assured me was still normal.

GRAPHIC PIC COMING AFTER THIS ONE

On day 12 I had another small victory. This red pants are in my, makes me feel bad about myself pile. I stopped wearing them after I saw a photo I didn’t like of myself in them. So I didn’t wear them anymore. Um…..I think I’ll put them back in the drawer. Seriously, who’s body is this? Mine?

Day 12 and 2 hours post surgery

I see my reflection and I see that it’s me. I see me and I’m not used to loving how I look. I’m not used to the pride it gives me to look in the mirror. I’ve never felt some of the things I’m feeling now. I just can’t get over it. What the human body can do and overcome and heal from is amazing. What my brain is doing? It’s an entirely different battle.

Emotional Healing

As I knew it would, the surgery has brought up a lot of emotions for me, some of which I’ll be able to explain here. Some I will not. Whatever it is I have to say, I hope there’s someone that needs to hear it.

I’m realizing now that I’ve put of the surgery for a few reasons, all of which are excuses. The real reasons is I was afraid. The EXACT same reasons I carried the weight to begin with. I wore my weight as a barrier and a protective blanket. When you’re morbidly obese it’s easier not to exist. People are uncomfortable by your presence. Children don’t understand how your body looks. People would rather not deal with you than be uncomfortable. Even though I know it’s making you cringe, it’s all true. This wasn’t my everyday but all those things happened to me. It was easier for me for you to not like me because I was fat, then for a reason that was really about me. It was easier to shove my weight problem in your face so you wouldn’t see my real demons. I was ok with you not inviting me because I was too heavy but not because you didn’t like me. Whoa. That was real.

The skin surgery has always been my final step. It’s the finish line of my journey. I knew I couldn’t cross that line being the same person, just without the weight. While I’ve slain a lot of demons over the last 6 years of keeping the weight off, there’s been a few at the back of the closet. I’m talking about the ones no one sees. The ones you haven’t seen in decades but always knew were there. In order for me to finally let the world see me and take off this protection, I had to be totally happy with who I was. So I’ve been keeping the skin as a way to continue to be disappointed with myself. If I keep hating that about myself, I’m distracted by it and can continue to pretend it’s what’s really bothering me.

I never looked at my body naked. Never. I didn’t want to see it when I was morbidly obese. Parts of me wondered why anyone would. As I lost the weight, I went through a phase where I didn’t care and felt really good about how my body looked. But I still didn’t look at myself naked. After I’d lost all the weight, it left my body looking weird and confusing. People aren’t sure what they are seeing in the locker room. And I hated it. I hated every minute of it. That body never felt like who I was either. I had spent so much time hating my body, hating parts of myself, that it just felt normal after a while. About a year ago now (I think I wrote about it then) I had a therapist ask me, “Are you ever going to not hate your body?” and I said no. That was my first step to this surgery. That day I knew I was stuck. Just as stuck as I had been at 300 pounds.

I never got used to my body with all that skin but boy did I get comfortable. In a way it was just so much easier to hate it. It’s easier to be afraid.

Of course I was terrified about the surgery. I could die. I could die for absolutely “no reason”. It’s gonna hurt like a MFer. It’s gonna be hard and uncomfortable. Better to just not to right? Let’s just keep putting it off. But honestly, I was more afraid of having the surgery and still hating my body. I was even more afraid of getting to that finish line and still hating who I was inside.

But it was time to find out.

I couldn’t pause my life any more. I couldn’t be ‘almost finished’ with my journey anymore. I had to know what was underneath. In the two weeks before my surgery, my life changed a lot. I had conversations that were super uncomfortable. I kept pulling skeleton after skeleton out and putting them to rest. I said some apologies and asked for a few. All because I had a hard due date. And it’s made me the happiest I’ve ever been.

The day of the surgery, I arrived with no fear about my emotions. I was terrified physically. All my anxiety was about the procedure but none of it was about how I’d feel about myself on the other side. I was ready to see and love a new Frankenbody that was going to make sense. For once. I went in knowing I was so in love with myself, there was nothing that could disappoint me on the other side.

When I said my goodbyes with my husband before surgery, I knew he was ready too. I knew in the words we exchanged that he truly loved me more than ever before. I had zero doubts that I was doing the right thing.

Within minutes of waking up, I was trying to feel my body and see if it was gone. I’ve never had a ‘normal’ adult body. I had very little time in college when I was average size. I’ve never ever been comfortable with my body. I’ve especially never loved my body. I cry now just thinking about seeing it for the first time. It’s a bit like they say losing a finger is, they say you can still feel it for a while. They say it takes your brain some rewiring to understand that it’s gone. That’s kinda what it’s like. The first words I said was “It’s perfect.”

Everyday the results of the surgery change and the view I see in the mirror changes. My proprioception (the understanding of where your body is in space) is a little strange. I go to put my hands on my belly and it’s not where I think it is. My legs cross differently. I have a belly button. My lady flower is where it’s supposed to be. I’m tiny!

But emotionally? I’ve loved it from the second I saw it. I didn’t know you could feel this way. Even totally separated and stitched and glued back together right now, this body makes more sense to me. This is the body I thought I had. This is the body I knew I could love. In so many ways, I feel like I’ve finally stepped into who I really am. And who I am is freaking amazing.

My First Days of Recovery

I’m still so glad that I came home that day of the surgery.  Going into the whole thing, I kept trying to remind myself how hard those first 48 hours really are.  Looking back now, (I’m in Day 5) it was both better and worse than I thought it would be. Today I’m going to write about the experience, more about emotions to come.

Let’s take a quick recap of what the procedure actually was in Kim’s words:

Feel free to skip if squimish! 

Monday evening I had a full Panniculectomy which means they cut off my whole flap of extra skin that has been covering my pubic area for the last 5 years.  They start by opening you (only though the skin, no muscles are cut) hip to hip.  There’s an incision around my belly button.  Then, like your buttering a Thanksgiving turkey, they separated my skin from the muscle wall from pubic area to a few inches above where my new belly button would be.  While my incision is a little over 180 degrees, the muscle lining is only separated in the center.  The ‘six pack’ area not the sides. Then they pull all the skin down, make a new hole for my old belly button, and cut off the excess. Everything is stitched and glued closed. A drain was placed at the top of each hip to help with drainage during healing. (See below, the tubes coming out) 

The left picture is 4 days before (there’s actually nothing indecent in this photo. What you see is alllllll skin. The picture on the left is 4 days post surgery.

Day 1 (Tuesday)

They send you home with so many instructions.  Pills, drains, caring for yourself…..it’s hard to remember it all.  I suppose that’s why they make you bring a functioning adult. When I woke up on Day 1, (and all through the night to take pills) I didn’t forget or try to get out of bed.  I remembered and touched it right away.  I could feel how much fluid was behind my skin.

So you can imagine it’s a little painful. They sent me home with oxycodone and recommended Tylenol  in between.  I wasn’t allowed ibuprofen for the first 48 hours or a shower. For my 1st full day of recovery, Dan was here. He helped me get up in the morning and check the fluid in my drains.

I could see a huge difference right away, although I felt puffy and distended from all the fluids they gave me. My sister sent beautiful flowers and I talked to many people on the phone. When I talked to my friend Natalie, she told me I wouldn’t remember much. And she was right. The day passed quickly with little naps, pills, food, bathroom and repeat. I felt slow both mentally and obviously physically. Even though there was discomfort from the surgery, my drains and back hurt the worst.  I’m a highly active person so sitting around and having a hunched position every time I’m standing was painful for my back.  Dan helped rub my back a little and I called it a night pretty early. I took all my pain meds as prescribed that day because I found myself needing the next pill 20-30 minutes before I was supposed to have it.  I was able to keep to my schedule but a few times were difficult.  I set alarms on my phone to wake up and take pills. Unfortunately, that first night I also had to go pee every time I woke up.  Annoying.

Day 2 (Wednesday)

When I woke up on Day 2, I was feeling a little better. Dan was going to work so I was on my own to get my breakfast and transfer myself to the living room.  When you walk at the pace of a turtle, this takes a while. About 9 am, I finally get up out of bed for real. (my usual wake up time is 4:45 so this is like noon to everyone else on the planet.) It takes me 45 mins to tend to my drains, take a progress picture, put on a shirt, get my blankets and water to the living room.  I also have to get my breakfast in the toaster and pour coffee that Dan left for me.  This would usually take me 5 minus max. By the time I’m sitting down to eat, I’m exhausted. Not in pain. Just tired. So I play online for a while, and compare my pictures again. 

On Wednesday, I didn’t feel like I saw that much difference and was almost bummed. But that’s why you take photos.  They don’t lie. You see what’s there. I’m most shocked about having a belly button (almost an outie no less!) and seeing my lady flower.

After comparing the photos, I was shocked. I can see it, but it’s like my brain doesn’t understand what it’s seeing.  I attempted to put some clothing on my bottom half since I was expecting visitors but…..nope. Friends visited and while I remember seeing Melody and Gary, I don’t really remember much of what we talked about. I made a velcro wrap towel into a very fashionable skirt. My mom called that night with nursey questions including “Have you pooped yet? ”  I haven’t sent so many naked photos or poop emojis to anyone on the planet as I have these last few days with my mom. TMI: But I had not.  Narcotics tend to back up the system.  The nurse had warned me ahead of time and recommended I start a stool softener.  Even with the medicine I was scared.  I can’t laugh, cough, push or twist without pain. So the idea of pooping is not fun. I was willing to wait till Thanksgiving. Later I’m sure Dan came home and we watched TV.  He helped me take a shower and painted my toe nails. There was quite a bit of pain that night even though I’d felt good during the day. I eventually made it to bed and started the whole routine over.

Day 3 (Thursday) 

When I got up on Thursday morning, I could tell something had changed.  I was able to start ibuprofen during the night and could tell a difference immediately. I woke up with a little more energy and got through my morning routine a little more quickly. Drains,  photo, POOP!!! (Hallelujah) breakfast, coffee, text mom……these are the new days of my life. I wasn’t expecting any visitors that day and I was kinda ok with being a lone. Everyday I can’t wait to look at my progress photos.  Some days I can feel the change, other days I need the picture to tell me.  

Not only did I see a huge difference in the swelling but the entire color of my skin was coming back to normal. I spent the day resting, watching Netflix, texting, writing.  I was able to start cutting all my pills in half and still make it without too much discomfort to the next dosage. The day went really quickly actually. I was happy to be feeling better and feeling like myself.  When I thought back to those first 48, they are still cloudy.  I backed off to half of my oxycodone and started to space them out further. My big goal of Thursday was to wash and blow dry my hair. Nailed it!Even though I got a little lonely mid day, being alone for the whole day was nice. I cried a little, I sorted some of my feelings and really just tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.  That night my colleague, Mariah, sent over dinner. What?!? So crazy nice.  It was so nice to sit with Dan and not have him on the other side of the apartment washing dishes and making dinner. I needed him that night. Wash, Rinse, Repeat……

Day 4 (Friday) 

If I feel 10 times better on day 3, I felt 100 times better on day 4.  A full 24 hours of 1/2 as much narcotics and full dose of Tylenol WITH ibuprofen was exactly what my body needed. I slept way more and stayed in bed till 9 again. When I got up for drains at 7am I could feel the difference without pictures but took some any way.  This was the first time I thought to take them from the side? I don’t know why I didn’t before.  Blame it on the drugs I guess.

I looked at the photos and thought of one that I have in my old body.  In some ways, I love that old photo.  It shows how fit I really am and that the skin is just extra. When I put it side by side with that photo, I cried.

More on emotions tomorrow but……..DAAAAAAAMN! I wanted it gone and its, well, gone! Ever since seeing this photo, I feel like I care less. It’s going to be 6 weeks before I can do activity. Its going to be 3 months before everything is healed and how it’s going to look for the rest of my life.   So how am I feeling on Day 4? Totally freaking happy with that. Also on Day 4 I had a few huge accomplishments: I took a shower by myself, I went up and down the stairs for the first time, I put my own socks on and most importantly I put underwear on.

On Friday, I had THREE friends come over!  I spent the morning writing on here for all of you, then crashing the site and trying to fix it. Soon Ali stopped by with groceries of fruit and nuts and we were able to chat for a while.  Both of us are always so on the go, we don’t really get to just sit together much.  After she left I made myself some lunch and watched TV.  Later Melody came over and we talked our usual nerd talk about how I crashed my website and what article on Alzheimers she had read. Amy came over and painted my finger nails and gossiped until Dan came home. If you have to judge me based on the quality and character of my friends: go right ahead.  I have some of the most caring, genuine and beautiful friends on the planet. No arguments.

Well I’d love to start adding day 5 but, it’s today and there’s still a lot left of this day. Also, I’m so tired from the morning and writing this post that I might just take a nap. Life is good.

The Surgery

I’m presently on day 4 of recovery and the details of the surgery and those first 48 hours are starting to become more clear.  I wanted to get the experience of surgery day out in words before it gets too far in the past.  Over the next few days I’ll be sharing updates and how good I’m already feeling.  I’ve been using other peoples stories to help reassure me and it’s brought me tons of hope. So now it’s my turn to keep putting my story out there for anyone that might need it.  We (extreme weight loss survivors) are so rare and extraordinary.  Anything I can do to help someone else on their journey is worst the risk.

Morning of:

My surgery was scheduled for Monday, November 18th at 3:00 pm. Over the weekend before, I had completed a certification workshop at the club and saw every person I could to keep me busy and distracted.  Monday morning, there was no more hiding.  It was here. It was time. I woke up dan at 4:00 am for a few reasons.  Somehow, that day was the end of my one year run streak.  Coincidence? I think not. So at 4:00 am Dan and I went for a quick one mile run around the lake in our park.  This is the same loop that was one of my original goals in weight loss.  I cried just like I did that first time when I finished.  Getting to this ‘finish line’ of surgery has been really emotional, but today I want to focus on the science of what I went through. Emotions to come. 🙂 Still sorting.

After our run Dan made me a big breakfast with his amazing scrambled eggs. If you’re not stirring your eggs with a chopstick like Antoni Porowski says, you’re doing it wrong. I ate as much as I could hold because at 5:30 am I had to cut all food and most liquids. We showered and tried to go back to bed. Instead we spent time talking and being intimate.  (Again, more on that later!) Later we went to target for a few last minute recovery things like tylenol and apple juice.  At this point I’m really really hungry. I’m down to only sips of water and apple juice. After the errands we came back home.

I talked to my Mom and my sister and the nerves are starting to settle in. I tend to worry on the inside and get quieter and quieter. My hubby worries on the outside and I can see him flitting around trying to prepare every single thing he can.  I think he asked me how I was every 5 minutes.  When it was time to get in the car, I just told myself we were going to Target, buried my head in my phone and distracted myself for the 30 minute drive.

Arrival….

(Caption: Our last picture with me in this body, walking up the stairs we stopped for a pic. 15 minutes later I would be in a gown.)

As soon as we arrive I feel like I’m gonna throw up.  I check in, sign some forms and the receptionist tells me it will only be a few minutes. I sit for less than three minutes. The nurse calls me back and says Dan has to stay in the waiting room for a little while but I’ll get to see him again. You think it will go slow.  There’s still over an hour till my procedure.  Tonnnnnns of time but it flew by. As I stepped on the scale, I saw my name on the surgical board. It was right there: Panniculectomy at 3:00pm.  Surgical ward is running on time.  It was like seeing your flight to your dream destination but you’re still not sure you want to go because getting there is gonna be so hard. What’s it worth? The money? The trauma? That I could die? I’d come so far.  I couldn’t go back now.

Pre Surgery Prep…

They brought me to my prep room and told me to put on a gown. I had to wipe dow with these surgical wipes so everything is clean. (I had already taken two required medical soap showers) They ran a pregnancy test. So far so good.  A male, who’s name I don’t remember now, came in to give me some pills and start and IV.  Best IV I’ve ever gotten hands down.  He was great.  He explained the pills he was giving me for nausea and pain.  He put a little patch behind my ear for nausea as well.  Then he showed me a small vial he would give me right before surgery. The “I don’t care” drugs.  After that, Dan got to come back.

I always feel much better when he’s around. I cried a little, we talked a lot. The anesthesiologist came in and had me sign some papers and asked a lot of questions.  He was also super nice.  The last person to see was my surgeon, Dr. Royal Gerow in his stylish horn rimmed glasses.  My brain started to panic a little when I saw him.  That means he’s out of his last surgery and ready to move to mine. Again, some quick signatures and questions. He puts marks on me both laying down and standing. This is the last time I’ll see it. The last time someone will touch it.  The last time I’ll hate my body. I’m getting emotional just remembering it now.

It’s Time…

Enter nurse with the “special” vial.  He warns me that I’d better say whatever I want to say to Dan before he gives them to me because a lot of people don’t remember after that. I tell Dan how important he is to me, that he’s the love of my life, and thank him for choosing me. I try to apologize for what were about to go through and he doesn’t let me. He tells me he’s proud and will see me on the other side. We kiss and it is action time. The surgical nurse comes in, double checks all my meds, signatures and markings. Before I know it, the arms on the bed are up and I’m being wheeled away.  Since I’m so drugged now there’s no moment of wanting to go back.  There’s no part of me wanting to scream “Wait! I’m not ready!”

The last time I had surgery (thyroidectomy) I was terrified laying on the table.  There’s so much commotion, all for you, but you can’t see whats happening. Not this time.  This time the nurse was with me and reassuring me.  The anesthesiologist comes over and explains we are waiting for me to hit 98% oxygen and for the Doc to finish scrubbing in.  Two minutes later, Dr. Gerow is there and telling me it’s gonna go great.  I hear someone say “Ok her oxygen is at 98%, let’s push the meds.”  Someone says “See you on the other side.”

Post Op…

In the next moment I’m freezing, hurting and scared. I wake up cold. So cold. I’m trying to grab the nurse and calling her Jenny for comfort. Jenny is the name of a colleague and friend of mine that always puts my mind at ease.  The nurse had blonde hair like her.  It was pretty funny later. But in the moment I’m scared.  The nurse tells me everything went perfectly and now I just have to get my pain under control.  The first 30 minutes blur together.  I remember squirming in my bed, my teeth chattering and almost whimpering.  All the while I’m being told to eat and drink but I’m so afraid I’ll get sick that I don’t want to.  I don’t want anything. I want to go back to sleep. Where the hell is Dan? After 30 minutes the first pain medication hits and takes a lot of the edge off.  After I finally manage a few crackers and an entire ginger ale, they call Dan back. Seeing him was like a dream.  He helped me put my contacts in which helped a ton! I didn’t realize part of my fear was the my vision was poor. I kinda forgot I could’t see? lol.  That probably won’t make sense to most people.

Another half hour goes by and I’m clearly still in a lot of pain.  It’s hard to squirm, I want to curl up in a ball but I can’t move. I’m constantly holding my breath on accident.  So the nurse insists I take another pill because my heart rate is still pretty low so I won’t be allowed to get out of bed till it does and get to the bathroom. I laugh out loud.  I tell her “At this point I’ll be having Thanksgiving in the bed.  I can’t even imagine standing for a few days.” So I got another half a pill. Soon my pulse in coming up and I’m holding down two ginger ales. I couldn’t tell you the last time I drank a whole can of soda to myself, or more than just a few sips of non-diet soda.  I drank 3 while I was there and it was amazing.

At about 90 minutes post op, I’m starting to feel human again.  I’m making animal sounds with the animal crackers they bought me.  I’m trying to whistle while eating saltines.  Clearly I’m in better spirits.  The nurse is giving us more instructions for home.   She needs to show me how to empty my drains so its time to see what it looks like. Even though Dan was there for the preop visit and I’d reminded him and myself, we didn’t expect to be able to see it so soon. There were no bandages to un wrap, I’m totally glued and stiched shut from the inside. After pulling my gown a way in two places where it stuck, I saw it for the first time. I. WAS. SHOCKED. 

The photo above from my POV in the first moments of seeing it.  Its gone.  All the skin is just gone. It’s incredible and quite frankensteiny to wake up with parts missing and be happy about.  Then I realized they were both watching me.  I look up and the nurse starts spouting of kinds words: “The swelling will go down” “I know it looks scary now but” “I know scar seems big now but” and instead of hearing her, I look at Dan. “It’s perfect” I say, with tears filling me eyes. If I could guess Dan’s emotion on his face at that time I’d say : Proudly Grossed Out? We hug and kiss and I saw how much I can’t believe it’s over.

The nurse also has to teach me how to empty my drains. Those little MFers. I have two, one coming out each leg which are the tubes in the picture above.  The drains serve several purposes but it gives the swelling fluid somewhere to go. It helps with bruising and speeds the recovery.  They have been the most uncomfortable part and I’m looking forward to getting them out already. (patience….) The nurse shows me how to drain and measure the fluid that comes out.  This is super important to show how my recovery is developing. But it’s also pretty gross. I have to carry these little balloons with me everywhere I go.  At 7am and 7 pm I measure them and pour it down the drain.  It’s oddly gross and yet satisfying,  It doesn’t hurt at all to do which is a blessing. 

This time when the nurse asks me if I need to go to the bathroom, I can actually picture getting out of the bed.  All during recovery, I was welcome to stay as long as I wanted but the better I felt, the less I wanted to be there. I make it to the bathroom with their help and they both stand guard outside the door in case I fall. I can hear them talking “Let’s ride this wave for whatever we can get” the nurse recommends. When I get out of the bathroom, Dan helps me put on the pjs that I brought which were a present from an amazing client.  I needed them more than I thought I would.  Before I put clothes on, I ask Dan to take a picture. I wanted to compare them as soon as possible and see how I change each day. Again, shock.

I took the before picture a few days before and then the skin disappeared in 3 hours. Freaking incredible. I have not seen my belly button or lady flower in over a decade. So that’s ……new……

Once I’m dressed, before I lay down again, the nurse asks what I want to do.  Now is the best time to transfer to an overnight bed or go home if I want to.  I want to go home. She takes me down in a wheel chair and Dan pulls up our Honda Element.  It was the perfect height for me to just sit and spin. I don’t remember much after that.  We got some food. Somehow I made it up the stairs and into the apartment.

I’m so happy I came home that night.  Not only did I sleep more than I would have at the hospital but Dan and I could practice what would become our morning routine. I tried to sleep in the recliner but my ankles hurt from hanging off and my neck hut from rolling around.  I got up several times during the night and eventually made it to the bed.  I found it most comfortable to sleep laying down but with knees raised. I finally really slept. Pills, sleep, pee and repeat.

Since this post is already so long, I’m going to post more over the next fews days about the first days of surgery.  But I will leave you with this, only four days out of surgery, I’m completely happy with my decision and my results. Let’s keep this train movin!

Do I deserve it?

Yesterday I had all my pre op appointments and final check marks for my upcoming skin surgery.  Honestly, I’m super freaking nervous.  I’ve been telling more and more people about my upcoming procedure and getting the same response over and over: You Deserve It!

First off, I am super excited about what my body is going to feel like in 3 months when I’m totally healed.  I know that the surgery is necessary.  I know it’s going to improve my quality of life as I age. The timing is perfect and the whole thing just makes sense.  But feeling like I deserve it? That’s something totally different. No sympathy comments.  This site will never be about that.  It’s about being real and not always understanding what the hell is going on.  Do I feel like I DESERVE it?

Want it? Check!

Need it? Check!

Ready for it? Check!

Deserve it? Eh……kinda check?

Feeling like I deserve the surgery has been the hardest part.  Since the surgery is a ‘choice’ there has been a lot of guilt that has surfaced lately.  I feel guilty about the money it’s going to cost, the pressure it’s putting on my husband and for having to miss work.  I feel guilty that I’ll just be sitting around for a few weeks. But the guilt of weight loss runs even deeper.

For a long time I knew I wasn’t ready for the surgery because of the guilt I felt.  There’s the present guilt: I still focus on myself so much, I make my husband eat like I do, I’m constantly changing and asking all my friends to accept me over and over. Then there’s the olllllllld guilt that makes me believe I don’t deserve…..well…..anything.

When I was morbidly obese, my self worth was very very low.  I had some confidence and an outgoing personality but on the inside, I never felt like I belonged.  I always wanted to be accepted and liked.  Being liked made me feel worthy. Being laughed at put money in my bank, but since I didn’t make my own worth investments, I’d always drain the account. Being so overweight made me feel guilty and then worthless and then guilty and then worthless and then….and then……

Eventually I cracked the cycle and the code ( after 6 long years), but that’s not what this post is about.  This post is about that guilt being present again. It sounds crazy I know. I’m sitting here in size 4 Lululemon pants feeling guilty for being overweight 6 years ago. I wasted so much time that I’ll never get back. I missed out on so many things. I didn’t know how to love correctly or be a good friend. I got overwhelmed and stressed out all the time. I let opportunities fall through my fingers, all because my worth was so low and reflected in my weight.

BUT

In two weeks, I get to completely erase her.  I can pretend she never existed if I want to.  Before I do though, I’m trying to finally after all this time, forgive her and tell her 100% she deserves this.

 

Scalpel Please

Its finally Friday which means: Announcement Time!

On November 18th, I’ll be having my abdominal skin removal surgery! !! !!! !!!! !!!!!

I’m sharing my photos today because it’s time I really let everyone know.  I hide my extra skin really well I think.   I’ve gotten a few looks when I’m announcing it to people because sometimes they don’t really think I need it.  But let’s be clear.  I carried my weight in my abdomen mostly.  I thought I had nice legs even back then and my arms have shrunk back to almost normal.  Surgery is now my only option to fix what I’ve done to my body. So I’m going for it.  Here goes nothing.

This photos are for those hoping to lose weight, have lost weight or are thinking about skin surgery.  NOT to show how hot I am, get sympathy comments and especially NO haters. Don’t like it? Keep scrolling or feel free to unsubscribe!

 

So everyone’s first question is: How are you feeling about it? Honestly? Equally excited and terrified.  Skin removal surgery is something that I have always wanted in the end.  There was a small time when I thought maybe I should keep the skin to remind me of who I used to be.  But over time the skin has become more and more of an actual medical issue.  Back in April of 2017 I went for my original consultation.  At the consultation I was cleared for surgery having lost enough weight and kept it off. Also, my doctor agreed it would be covered by insurance since my skin hangs below the pubic bone.  And……that’s as far as I ever went. I only wanted to know if I COULD get it removed, but I wasn’t ready.

Over the next year, I tried to get over it. In so many ways, the surgery feels like a bad idea. It’s going to cost me quite a bit of money. I’m going to have to miss work.  I’m having ‘elective’ surgery and putting my body through unnecessary trauma.  I’m putting a lot of extra stress on my husband through my recovery weeks.  I won’t be able to run or exercise for 6-8 weeks.  These were all the reasons that ping ponged around my brain and made me not even find out the answers to most of the questions I did have about the surgery.

This September, I went back to the doctor.  I had been listening to a few of my clients that were struggling to pull the trigger on a few things out of fear. I kept bringing it up, across many conversations, that I was scared to know how much it was going to cost and what the recovery would be, so I never went back. After bringing it up for about a month, I made an appointment.  And then I cancelled it because I was ‘too busy’. Two weeks later, I finally went because my friend had scheduled her mammogram (which she was also scared about) and we were meeting for coffee after. I didn’t look up the procedure ahead of time because I didn’t want to expect the doctor to say one thing, and he’d say another.

My plastic surgeon, Dr. Royal Gerow has been practicing for just under 30 years. Since he wears horn rimmed glasses and argyle ties, I felt comfortable immediately.  Dr. Gerow drew me diagrams and explained everything about the procedure before evaluating me once again, to make sure nothing had changed in the last 2.5 years. When he asked me if I had any more questions, I asked about the cost knowing he probably couldn’t give me much information. He gave me the number to call insurance and all the verbage I would need to ask how much the procedure would be through our insurance.  Then he asked me how soon I’d want to do the procedure and I mentioned maybe holiday time depending on how much it was going to cost. I figured missing work (2 weeks) near the holidays would result in the least amount of income lost.

I left feeling…….weird. I cried for a little bit, panicked for a little bit and then gathered myself and went to coffee.  The whole time I just thought about the phone number in my wallet and how soon I could get home to call. When I got home, the first thing I did was NOT call.  I stared at it for a while. Took the dog for the walk. Came back and I couldn’t wait another minute. I had to know. I called and gave all the information and waited on hold.  And waited. And waited.  It was probably 90 seconds but felt like 10 minutes.  When she came back on the line she said, “Well Kim, since this is an outpatient procedure you’ll need to pay your outpatient copay of $100.” I nearly died.  I had her repeat it so many times she was giggling. I got off the phone and texted about 10 people.

When I called to schedule the surgery, I was expecting to get a date a few months out nearest to Christmas as I could.  After much discussion and scheduling conflicts, I had to take the date of November 18th.  I cried almost the whole time I was on the phone with the nurse and forgot a lot of what she said after that.  I felt completely overwhelmed by fear, anxiety and excitement.  I sat in my car in the parking lot for about 15 minutes and just cried. It took me a while to figure out the emotion: relief.

Getting my skin removal surgery will do so much for my body. It will help my posture, make my clothes fit properly, make exercising easier, and allow better hygiene as I age and lose mobility. But it means so much more than that. It’s the last step.  It is the final part of erasing my past and who I used to be.  When people meet me, they rarely know about my weight loss unless I tell them.  Now it will be my secret alone. In a lot of ways, ever since losing the weight, there’s been this big “but ……..” lingering in the back of my mind.  I lost 160 lbs, but I still don’t run in a sports bra unless it’s 100 degrees outside. I totally changed my body composition but I still seem like I carry extra fluff in my midsection from skin. I feel 10 Xs more confident about myself and my body but only in clothes.   I feel like a prize on my husbands arm now but not in the bedroom.  Having my surgery will complete my journey, but it will never cure my original disease. Letting the skin go won’t change any part of who I used to be or who I am now but it might help change who I’m becoming. I’ve still got a whole future ahead of me!

Girl, My A$$ Hurts

Alright.  So I’ve been a little busy. Over the last 18 months when my posts have been lacking while I’ve done some pretty incredible things.  During that time I had two choices: try to keep up this blog and write from an exhausted, drained mind or release myself from the guilt of having too many plates in the air.  Obviously you know what I picked. I knew I didn’t have the creative depth or reservoir of passion to give much advice to readers.  But now, I’m slowly getting back to all the things I love and finding joy in things that take up time again.

Over the past 18 months, I fully switched careers to a full time personal trainer and recently acquired my Weight Loss Specialist license. I’ve been working with overweight clients, underweight clients, females, males, confident people, self conscious people and everywhere in between.  And I’ve been learning SO MUCH.  It’s been all consuming and thus my lack of writing.  But I have been doing some reading, which is the launching point of this post.

Lately I’m obsessed with the book Girl, Wash You Face by Rachel Hollis. I’ve read it.  I’ve written in it.  I’ve bought three copies for women I know.  I’ve lent out my own copy and I pretty much obsessively tell everyone about it.   Within the book, Rachel takes you through several lies women tell themselves and how to stop believing them so you can reach your full potential. While reading the book,  I saw a lot of lessons I had learned while losing weight printed into words I didn’t know other people had felt. Some chapters rang more true than others.  Some chapters I skipped (like about motherhood). But what was clear while reading the book was, she gets it.  Were all fighting the same battles each day and yet we keep providing the same lies were believing.

The chapter that I knew was for me was: Chapter 3: The Lie: I’m not good enough.  I had quite a light bulb-hold the phone-stomp on the breaks full mom arm seatbelt-moment during this chapter.  I always have known I’m a workaholic.  I liked to excuse the habit away with “but I’m from the Midwest, were taught to work hard” and “but I’m a teacher; it’s a 24/7 job” or “but I love my job.”  I had never ever had someone explain it the way Rachel does.  Of course I’m paraphrasing here but she explains that for many of us, work is where we feel the most confident.  It’s where we feel like we belong and have permission to do great things.  So we want to spend ALL our time there.  It’s ok to gain confidence from your job but it’s not ok that ALL your confidence rides on your job.

My favorite quote from the book is “Work just as hard for the pee in your pants moments as you do all the other ones.” I haven’t peed my pants enough in the past few years.

The best part of my job is watching people change.  I get to watch women become whole again.  Men gain their confidence back again.  Some people just want to put their shoes on again.  We all have goals and ways we want to change. I get to push people toward their goal and take the burden for just an hour while they work with me.  They let me push them past their comfort zone, past their breaking point, past their own goals to see them take steps towards that change.  I don’t necessarily think my clients look to me for life altering advice like I found in Girl, Wash Your Face I could get behind my own tagline: Girl, My Ass Hurts!