Funny that I mentioned Cherry Ripes in my last post, I ate one on Friday. It was hard, it was a bit rough going down and I was full half way through but I struggled on (no one can accuse me of not being persistent) and managed to finish it off - it was tough - but someone had to do it. I also got myself mangled on Friday night (pleasant enough too) I also ate toast on Saturday morning and the list goes on I cant go into too much detail cause I'll get hungry. The point of the story is, there is no deprivation in my life in fact, yes there is. I may not be deprived of eating my favourite foods and going on a bender but I am deprived of the joy and the manner in which I go about these sinful pleasures resulting in them not being so sinfully pleasurable. I cant eat as fast, i cant stuff as much in, I cant fill up those emotional holes and insubstantial areas of my life with the spakfilla they call food. I have to proceed with caution, nibble, chew like a donkey and swallow tiny meaningless amounts and instead of pleasantly full (and fulfilled) I feel vaguely sick and usually extremely uncomfortable and in shit pain.
So there I was pre op thinking that I was saying goodbye to my old life and bad habits and having my last hurrahs when in actuality the party is not over. Kind of. Its kind of reassuring that yes I can enjoy "little" bits of what I like (although I'm yet to enjoy a "little" bit of a gorge) but is a little bit better than cold turkey? Who knows and now we'll never know. I do often wonder if I'd known what I know now then (?) would my dieting exploits have been more successful? Doubt it. I was a pretty messed up individual and I sometimes still visit crazy land when I graze on shit all afternoon and then eat a meal and then cry cause it hurts. There's nothing like the sound of my own cries of pain to remind me of a Saturday night of the past.
I still expect to wake up and be 102kg (I even saw over 103 at one point but it wasnt recorded). I have to sit and work out exactly how much I've lost and convince myself it is a significant amount. That I'm not as huge as I used to be and a bit of Saturday afternoon grazing will not undo it. That I'm not in denial and it is actually over 9kg - all the time - and not really 4.5kg but only after 3 days of gastro and completely naked when Jupiter is in the fourth house of Venus and the scales are pointing north west. When will that go away? Ever? When will I stop writing down what I eat just to convince myself that it wasnt as much as I used to eat? When will I stop associate being full with being an inadequate piece of human workmanship? When will I stop comparing myself to how good I could be if only I stuck to the rules 100% of the time? These are not overriding beliefs all of the time but when things get dark - and it aint all sunshine and roses here in Shaggsville - this is what goes through my head.
I was just thinking I'm not a food junkie anymore! Ha! After reading that little blurb its not quite as convincing. But its not as painful to be around food. I'm not pining all the time. I dont think the world is out to get me because they keep eating when I cant. I am not constantly stopping myself from shoving anything edible (and lets face it, sometimes inedible) into my mouth. I think I'm at the acceptance level of grief (for this moment in time anyway) I do still remove myself from food situations but only for my own good. The pain is an excellent deterrant and I really dont think I could do this if I didnt feel the pain. Am I becoming the lapband equivalent of a cutter? I dont like the pain and I dont seek it but it does do something to me that the food doesnt have to do anymore. It distracts me from the emotional pain I guess? From the reason why I eat in the first place? OK this is all getting too Freudian or Jungian or something for me, my education didnt take me past this point so my brain cant quite get through these ideas and make sense of them. Where's Germain Greer or Naomi Wolf when you need them? Out chasing wolves and rooting men 40 years younger I suspect.
My 7 year old gave me a hug the other day and noticed something highly unusal that I didnt notice, her hands met up behind my back. They'd never done that before and I'd never noticed. Very nice point. She's terrified I'm going to end up looking like Paris Hilton. I could eat Paris Hilton for afternoon tea! She also said that the band is going to kill me when I'm 40 (that better not be one of her freaky prophecies), she thinks I'm cyborg with a machine inside me. She's shed a few tears over it all but I think she's through it all now. F%^& what damage our behaviours inflict upon our children. If only the world were the perfect Utopia I create inside my head that makes me wear jeans that are too small and a top thats too tight. Ahhh Prettyland... where no child has to cry for her fat mother.... where no one hears you eat.... where the scales always read "gorgeous" no matter which house of Uranus they're in.
Did I mention I cant sleep? Could it be the copious amounts of energy I have? Every night is such a bad night that I cant wait for the next night cause I know I'll just flake (yum...) but instead, another shit's night sleep. I'm running on a few hours. I think I need to up the exercise thing and expend some of this energy or maybe I really need some food to get through the night. I've never slept well on an empty stomach, but then I never wake up and weigh well on a full stomach. Cant win.
This is all too much, Prettyland calls......