18 Weeks out. Daughter Katrina enjoys grabbing all the skin around my face and making funny faces with it
The last three weeks or so have been pretty much a slog on the weight loss front. I’m losing about 2 pounds per week instead of 3, and I’m eating more sliders. Still sticking to the 30-30 rule, though, and I manage to eat less when I pre-measure everything. Still, I’m not doing as well as I used to.
The temptation is to blame exercise, which I missed quite a bit last week. If only I exercised more! I’ll think, and then plan out some brutal week of hard workouts to make up for things.
But if there’s anything at fault, it’s my eating more, which, I have to say, I like.
It’s great to have more physical food in my digestive system. I don’t think the nutrition value of the food matters much at all. It’s just nice to have volume. So I’m eating about a cup of food three times a day, usually a half-cup of some kind of vegetable/protein, like beans, and then a half cup of fruit or berries. I’ve also upped my protein supplements up to close to 100 grams daily. And I’m shooting for 4 liters of water, although I don’t always get this much.
As disappointed as I might feel at times, I have to remind myself that yes, I am still losing weight. And 2 pounds a week is probably a much more sustainable and healthy loss than that crazy 5 or more pounds a week I was doing there at the start. The trick is keeping things going at this rate.
Weight loss is a crazy thing. You are fighting your natural inclination, which is bad, and you are dealing with a system which you don’t understand, which is also bad. This kind of obsession could make you crazy. If nothing else it will twist your thinking.
I’ve also had to come to some kind of conclusion regarding my opinion on dieting. While I’ve tried a bunch of diets, I came into this thing not wanting just to diet all over again. On the other hand, I definitely don’t want to be one of those guys that gains it all back. So how to reconcile these two feelings?
My decision is twofold: 1) I will get into the habit of putting my food in containers ahead of time and eating only what’s in the container (mostly, aside from the weird social situation like a reception or party), and 2) I will discipline myself to the 30-30 rule. No snacking, and no liquids 30 minutes before or after eating.
Other than that I’m going to follow doctor’s orders, but I’m not going to get too wrapped up around the axle. In other words, I am not going to obsess over small details. Odds are I will stop losing at some point. Hopefully I can go another 30-40 pounds, but who knows? The important thing is to find a new system that can last ten years, not reach some arbitrary goal. I figure learning to package my food ahead of time and eating in a certain way doesn’t constrain me too much. After all, there are plenty of other habits and disciplines I’ve gotten into, like packing for a long trip or shaving every morning. This is just something else like that; something to be learned and practiced.
People might wonder what it’s like to have a stomach the size of an egg. How can I eat a cup of food? Well, it’s a funny thing. If I were eating a dry, chunky food like chicken, I could probably eat just enough to fill my pouch. Then I’d be full. But by eating “sliders”, the food just slides right out of my pouch and into my small intestine, so really there’s not much of a limit. I could sip on chocolate milkshakes all day long, drink gallons of the stuff. Sure, I’d weight 300 pounds again, but it’s possible.
Do I feel hungry and want to eat more? Not really. That’s also a funny thing. No matter how much I eat, it seems to fill me up. Yes, it’s easy to get into the habit of eating the sliders and such, but I know that if I went back to liquids for a few days, I could start right back over at a quarter cup a meal again. I’m not eating due to insatiable hunger. I’m eating more out of comfort and habit.
I had some unplanned eating events in the last few weeks that underscore this. One of the places I’m working with routinely feeds its folks on Fridays. They bring in some kind of buffet. Because I want to be a polite guest, I figure I should eat with the people I’m trying to help. So a couple of weeks ago I line up for a great lunch. There was chicken casserole, beans, and so on. Then I went and sat down outside to mingle.
Now with dry food like that, even a half a cup is pushing it, but I knew to chew my food carefully and listen to my body for signals it was time to stop. What happened, though, was that some really interesting people joined the conversation around lunch. We started talking about all sorts of fascinating stuff like hobbies, political views, and so on. I was engrossed in trying to learn more about their world.
And I found that I could not stop eating.
Somehow I have learned to associate nervousness with eating. So when the conversation lulled, or I had nothing to do with my hands, I wanted to find something, anything, to put into my mouth and chew. Even after I ate as much as I needed (of course my plate was full, one scoop of three items will fill a plate). So I’d pick at my food, pull off a little bit, and chew it. It gave me something to do while listening. It was calming.
And I ate too much. My pouch filled up and started to spasm. Yikes!
But hell, even then I kept going and ate 2-3 more tiny bites over the next 5-10 minutes. I just wanted to be doing something while engaged in conversation.
By the time lunch was over, I was in terrible pain. I spent the rest of the afternoon feeling like I wanted to throw up. If I didn’t consume anything, the pain was manageable, but the minute I swallowed anything the nausea would come over me in a terrible way. The pain kind of subsided for a bit, so I started chewing gum and went to a meeting. Ooops! Not so much. About ten minutes into the meeting I felt like barfing, so I ran to the bathroom. But no luck. Just a lot of spitting.
I waited for an hour. The pain subsided. So I tried sipping water. After a couple of sips, back with the nausea again. My body was not happy! Hello Daniel! We have some serious complaints down here! Are you listening?
Went out to the car, found a whole plastic bag of Papaya Enzyme, and ate all of them — about 30. Still no luck. I drove home feeling like I was going to throw up. It was not a pleasant experience.
Once I got home, I made some hot tea and sat down, prepared to drink all of the tea no matter what. If I threw up, then so be it. Something had to give somewhere. It’s impossible to live if you can’t drink or eat! While I knew in my heart the problem was going to work itself out one way or another, I still had to recognize that if it went on for more than a day I’d need to go to the hospital. That kind of gets your attention.
I sipped about half of the tea and the nausea hit again. I ran to the bathroom and my stomach convulsed, but I didn’t throw up.
That one convulsion must have shaken something loose because that was it. The pain was gone. I was fine after that.
So a week later I’m in the same exact situation. I’m at a dinner party before a conference I’m speaking at. It was a great dinner. All kinds of foofy food. I made a plate again, and again I sat down and started having a great conversation with some folks.
This time, however, I remembered the pain from last time. Once I started feeling full, I covered my plate up with my napkin and physically pushed it away. Even then, that would not be enough. I know myself well enough to know that I’d soon start picking at the food again as the conversation progressed. Fortunately Melissa was there, realized what I was doing, and took my plate to the trash while I continued talking. That’s what having a good wife will help you with!
Yesterday it happened again. Another catered meal at my client site. Another great conversation with one of the folks there. This time it was fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. (I skipped out on the rolls, pies, macaroni and cheese, and other stuff!) I really enjoyed the flavor! And the conversation was going well also. But sure enough, not five or ten minutes into the chat, I was full. There I was with a plate 90% uneaten, and my pouch was telling me it was time to stop. So I smiled, said “You know, this is extremely good food, but I’m completely stuffed. It was great talking to you!” and excused myself. Crisis averted. I dumped a full plate of food in the trash can. Felt like I was committing a terrible crime doing it.
Interesting thing about that is that 20 minutes later I still felt a little hunger. So I ate a protein bar. Much better to complete my lunch with protein than do a repeat of the eating too much experience.
Writing all of this, it occurs to me that maybe I haven’t been doing so badly after all. I am learning quite a bit — my pouch is helping me out, whether I like it or not. I’m learning why I eat, I’m learning some ways to control things. I’m also learning how easy it is to screw up, even with a modified digestive system. It’s not all stuff I want to know, but it’s stuff I need to know.
But I still feel uneasy about all of it, as if I’m resting on a house of cards that’s bound to crash sooner or later. From reading other folks who have had this surgery, this is a very common feeling.
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