So, this is totally hysterectomy related…I think. It may also be “self-comforting” related, or lack of will power related…or food addiction related *ahem*.
One thing I have noticed since having the hysterectomy last year is the onset of some poundage creeping back. In 2009, I had gastric bypass surgery and lost over 130 pounds. I got down to about 190 or so…on good days in the 180s. For the record, I’m a shorty – 5’3″. I used to be 5’4″ but had some bone loss during chemo. Dammit.
So, last year, when I underwent treatment, they told me NOT to lose weight. I was right around 199 at the time (a little bounce back weight – but hey – 10 pounds in 3 years is a hell of a lot better than the 10 pounds a month I was gaining before RNY). And actually, keeping weight on was hard. It’s really hard when you don’t want to eat. And you purposely look for comfort foods, and foods that you can palate. I ate a lot of bread. I ate peanut butter. I ate (sigh) dark chocolate. When I could eat. Which was only about 2 weeks out of the month. Much worse during radiation – food was nasty and I was barfy.
So, when I finished treatment, logically, I should have gone back to eating more healthy. Except we moved. And Mom had knee replacement. And I was stressed. And And And (insert your own excuse here – because that’s what they were…excuses). And now, here we are, six months later. And I’m back up to 225 pounds. Sigh.
So, I know in my head what I have to do (stop feeding my face would be a good start). I’ve tried exercising at the gym, but quite honestly, and this is not an excuse at all, my stamina isn’t where it was before cancer. Cardio exercising wears me out, and a lovely little leftover from cancer treatment is that I get horrible tendon cramps when I get fatigued. They are HORRIBLE and painful. I explained them to three different doctors before the Orthopaedist finally saw a picture of one. I had Bob snap a picture of what my leg looks like when the tendons are cramping. WILD. The Ortho said, “wow…never saw that before.” And then he prescribed muscle relaxers. But also told me to cut back on exercise that is going to cause fatigue. I’ve tried walking, and that tends to bring on the spasms too. But not as badly. I’m determined to exercise dammit.
But what I really have to do is focus on what is going in my mouth. I can’t use my cancer as excuse for horrible eating. I can’t use menopause, or the hysterectomy…stress…any of that. I never really learned how to deal with stress in a healthy way. FEED ME. FEED ME GOOD STUFF. Sigh. My love for chocolate is deeper than my love for my husband. Oh, they run a close race…but damn I love me some chocolate. And cookies and brownies and pie and…sigh. I also no longer have the whole dumping thing going in my favor. Just after bypass, I couldn’t handle sugar. Now, I can. Up to about 30g of sugar per serving. And the only thing that really makes me sick anymore is ice cream. Ugly bugger that stuff is.
So, this past week, I have made a very conscious effort to watch what is going in my mouth. Being 40, and post-menopausal now, makes losing the weight hard. My body chemistry is all effed up. And I hate all the weight I’ve gained back because I look like a cow in my clothing. I see pictures of myself and cringe. It’s time to get this show on the road. And get down to a reasonable goal weight for a 41-year-old woman who is 5’3″. So, I’ve reactivated my SparkPeople account. I’m tracking my food. Everything I put in my mouth – no matter what. I’m packing my lunches. I purposely take no cash to work so I’m not tempted by the stupid vending machines (although quite honestly, everyone here eats relatively healthy and everyone belongs to the gym, so there are no goodies lying around). I’m drinking my water. The only thing I will NOT give up is my coffee. And if you know me, you know why. I’m a bitch with coffee. Without it, I’d be in jail.
So, my goal now is to get rid of the weight that has crept back on. I’m aiming for about 160 as a long-term goal. In the mean time, my first short-term goal is 210. I need to lose the weight to keep the cancer at bay. I need to lose the weight to fit into my clothes. I need to feel better about myself. And I need to stop emotionally eating, or I’ll be back up at 331 in no time.
Wish me luck. Wish my poor husband luck. He has to live with me.
And please, keep me from the chocolate. I’m like a junkie.
Hit the road, Fat Chick. You aren’t welcome here anymore.