Sipping my café con leche this early afternoon, I'm sitting here at home in an old, t-shirt type pajama. It's white and has little colorful fishes all around it. It's at least 10 sizes too big on me, but, it's comfy as ever.
The last time I wore it was probably about eight years ago. My husband saved it and it sat folded in a drawer, then in one box after another. It was recently washed, during the craziness of our last move. It's one of the pieces of clothing that I would wear when I was a much heavier woman, along with the weight of a whole other person. A very thin person, but another person, nonetheless.
The majority of my life, represented in just a few articles of clothing. Surely my life was not just about the size of my clothing or the weight of my body. Nevertheless, the pj otherwise known as 'the fishies' is still here. A reminder of a time past, a different time. Not just physically; mentally and emotionally, as well.
Reflecting on all the many things I can do now that I couldn't do then. A five-mile bike ride that doesn't leave me too winded, an hour and fifteen minute yoga class that allows me to stretch my breathing and body to its limits. Of course, the aesthetics aspect of weight loss has it's benefits, but that's not what is most important. What's important is the fact that I have no major health ailments, I don't take pharmaceutical medication to keep me healthy, and, I'm rarely sick due to low blood sugar or high blood pressure.
'The fishies' is a fond reminder of a time in my past, along with being a reason to appreciate the time of the present and the future. Although it's like a tent on me, I proudly wear it. In my house, anyway.
Showing posts with label weight loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weight loss. Show all posts
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Monday, September 21, 2009
100 pounds less than...
Six years and one month ago, I had been married just eight months. It was a huge decision. One might say a decision that could have been a matter of life or death. I was taking a big chance. Aware that I wasn’t taking the ‘easy’ way out. Knowing some people thought I was. It’s not like I didn’t think this decision through thoroughly. It’s not like I didn’t weigh the pros and cons. I spent countless hours researching. Reading the topic on discussion boards. Attending information meetings. Talking it through, for hours, with my husband, my best friend and my mother-in-law (who had become one of my closest friends).
In the end, I didn’t make this decision alone. I made it with my husband. We discussed my fears and his fears. We shared our pros and cons list. We cried together at the scary “what-if’s”. We imagined the benefits it would bring into our lives. And in the end, that is what confirmed my decision. Our decision.
Six years and one month ago, I laid on a hospital bed; fluorescent light blazing in my eyes. I actually said ‘goodbye’ to my best friend, my husband and my amazing mother-in law, Theresa; you know, just in case. I cried a bit. I remember feeling cold and alone. Scared; yet strong and determined. Enough strength to push out the fear. Or...maybe the yummy-knock-me-to-sleep drugs finally kicked in.
In the end, I woke up. I felt pain. But not fear. I felt victorious. But I still felt pain. My best friend, my angel; she was there the whole time. She helped me the whole way through. She helped feed me the liquid food they provided. Beef broth and hot tea; actually tasty when your stomach can suddenly not hold anything more than a pinky-tip amount of liquid. She encouraged me to release a certain bodily vapor that would be a sign that I would be released from the hospital soon. She helped me walk, with my IV-bag–on-wheels, up and down the hall. My best friend.
Six years and one month ago, I witnessed the pros of this decision, almost immediately. I questioned the nurse to be sure I heard her right. Had my blood sugar levels dropped to normal so soon? It had been mere hours since the recovery room. Could my blood pressure be down? Had I really lost 10 pounds? Already? That soon? Some nurses were nice; others withdrawn or quiet. More walking up and down the hall. Very slow paces at first; now beginning to speed up.
In the end, it was the best decision I ever made. No more Diabetes; no more high blood pressure. No more food. I could barely sip the broth. One teaspoon felt like Thanksgiving dinner. Solid food was but a dim memory. It was the best decision I ever made.
In the end, I didn’t make this decision alone. I made it with my husband. We discussed my fears and his fears. We shared our pros and cons list. We cried together at the scary “what-if’s”. We imagined the benefits it would bring into our lives. And in the end, that is what confirmed my decision. Our decision.
Six years and one month ago, I laid on a hospital bed; fluorescent light blazing in my eyes. I actually said ‘goodbye’ to my best friend, my husband and my amazing mother-in law, Theresa; you know, just in case. I cried a bit. I remember feeling cold and alone. Scared; yet strong and determined. Enough strength to push out the fear. Or...maybe the yummy-knock-me-to-sleep drugs finally kicked in.
In the end, I woke up. I felt pain. But not fear. I felt victorious. But I still felt pain. My best friend, my angel; she was there the whole time. She helped me the whole way through. She helped feed me the liquid food they provided. Beef broth and hot tea; actually tasty when your stomach can suddenly not hold anything more than a pinky-tip amount of liquid. She encouraged me to release a certain bodily vapor that would be a sign that I would be released from the hospital soon. She helped me walk, with my IV-bag–on-wheels, up and down the hall. My best friend.
Six years and one month ago, I witnessed the pros of this decision, almost immediately. I questioned the nurse to be sure I heard her right. Had my blood sugar levels dropped to normal so soon? It had been mere hours since the recovery room. Could my blood pressure be down? Had I really lost 10 pounds? Already? That soon? Some nurses were nice; others withdrawn or quiet. More walking up and down the hall. Very slow paces at first; now beginning to speed up.
In the end, it was the best decision I ever made. No more Diabetes; no more high blood pressure. No more food. I could barely sip the broth. One teaspoon felt like Thanksgiving dinner. Solid food was but a dim memory. It was the best decision I ever made.
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