The fact that I have a bib on in this picture is pretty telling. Mom said I was always hungry. Born hungry. She’s not wrong. The smile on my face must be because I’m going to eat or just ate. I’ve always loved food.
It is hard to believe that one is not doing damage to their body in the throes of rapid weight loss and near-starvation. Hunger pangs, headaches, weakness, fatigue, hives, sore throat, swollen glands. I’ve been on a high-protein diet for almost 2 weeks and it’s super difficult. In this last stretch, the final few days, I have been craving my old favorites more than ever. I not only feel physically weak, but mentally weak as well. I could barely muster more than a few sentences to my teen as she arrived home from school. I just don’t care about anything.
I don’t care how your day was, I don’t care what happened, I don’t even care about myself. It’s not depression or apathy. It’s not enough oxygen, nutrients and BLOOD are getting to my brain! I can’t care because that part of my brain is currently NOT working. Sorry! I can hardly hold up my hands to type this. Well. I’m not. I’m resting them on the keyboard and willing my fingers to do the rest.
Life without food is pretty hard. It’s not much fun and my constant thought is, “I wanna dinner roll with butter.” Almost there. Surgery is Monday at 10 am.
I know my eating habits brought me to this point. I know my cravings were ultimately destructive. But. I can’t help but wonder, how did I make it all these years eating bad food and not just keel over one day? What was the absolute thing that made me overeat, eat badly, crave bad food, spiral out of control, form bad habits? What was the catalyst that could have been changed? I wish I knew why some human beings are propelled by bad food choices and can’t seem to make better choices. If eating right is innate, why can’t we all figure it out on our own? Are we messed up/abused or genetically hard-wired? Is it simply addiction?
I used to think that fat people were abused somehow and formed an effed up pathway as a result. Your brain thinks comfort when you ingest food and that is better than what is happening around you. Shortcut. A rat caught in a junk food maze. But what my surgeon said about genetic disorder and surgical correction, I just don’t know any more. I suppose with any complex problem, there is a complex answer.
Maybe I was genetically vulnerable to being fat? It does run in my family. Maybe the chaos I was broiled in at home set off that genetic marker? Was it the overproduction of farm foods in America that led to an entire generation of fat kids? Is it the 20th century progress from farm to city with sedentary lifestyle? Is it the overproduction of every product including sugar-based foods, pop, candy, that led to the destruction of America’s gut, liver and pancreas? I’m spiraling. Sorry. One question I would want to ask God, why? At what moment did I become a fat person? But I assume, once you get to heaven, it won’t matter any more. Maybe we’ll just know.
For the time being, I know this ain’t heaven. And I know I’m not meant to be perfect. I just wish sometimes that life wasn’t so hard. Because it is. Trying to find a different path other than the one you’re comfortable with is the hardest thing a person can do. And some days I ask, “Is it worth it to change? If I’m this miserable, what’s the point?”
I’ll be glad when this diet is OVER! Weight=428 lbs.