We celebrate Christmas Eve in my family.  The traditional Polish Wigilia.  Lots of food, lots of loud family, one particular drunk cousin, etc.  I’ve been stressed for the past few years because of work issues (first I hated my job at a large law firm, then I started my own firm, then I was just generally stressed).  Anyways, this year, driving to my aunt’s house, I listened to Christmas songs on the radio the whole way, my jolly head bopping back and forth, my seat belt pulled taut (as taut as it will go - I have yet to install one of those extension things in my car) across me and my coat, and I was feeling generally good.  Sure, I got lost along the way (oops, forgot to update my aunt’s address from when she moved last year, and I went to the wrong address, but luckily I had her phone number, and, well, it wasn’t too far away).  I picked up my sister’s boots from the shoe maker (I bought her knee high boots as a Christmas-Birthday-I Love You - I’m Sorry You’re Having a Hard Time Since Your Husband Was Recently Diagnosed With Cancer - gift)(for those of you who don’t know, we — the collective fat “we” — are not prohibited from wearing sexy knee high boots; we just have to confidently walk into an old fashioned shoe repair place, tell the old man who looks like Geppetto behind the counter that your calves are too big for the boots, and you would like him to add more leather to the boots to make them fit; if he is worth his salt, he should take your measurements at various points up your leg, figure out how much of a gap there is at your ankle, a couple inches above your ankle, all the way up to the top of the boot, and then voila, you have knee high boots.  It will likely cost you about $100 - $125, depending on the amount of leather you need to have put in)

Now that we have finished Michelle’s tangent for the day, let’s get back to our Christmas story . . .

So, as I was saying, I was in a pretty good mood for Christmas.  And, in fact, we did have a pretty good Christmas.  I remembered everything I was supposed to bring (grab bag gift, sister’s boots, mom’s gifts, etc.)  Good food, a glass of pink champagne (rare for me), my sister and aunt made AMAZING cookies (I am a cookie snob), etc.  I was not concerned about calories.  I watched amounts, and tried to eat slowly, but pretty much ate whatever I wanted.  Even the ridiculous black ice in the parking lot didn’t bother me. 

And then, about a half hour or so after we ate dinner, I started having a funny feeling in my stomach.  Like when it starts to make a funny noise, and you know something’s wrong.  So, I headed off to the bathroom.  As a larger than large woman, I know my considerations — ok, what does the bathroom look like?  Is the toilet enclosed on either or both sides by walls/bathroom sink/other things that will impede my legs?  I have to really open my legs to wipe thoroughly.  I realize this is a gross topic, but it is a part of my revelation.  I had an absolutely awful reaction to something I ate, and was in the bathroom for nearly 20 minutes.  And then I had to try to wipe my butt — and it was nearly impossible.  The bathroom seemed roomy enough, but the angle of the toilet, sink. wall, height of the toilet — I don’t know what it was, but I simply couldn’t do it.  I was already exhausted, literally physically exhausted, by the 20 minutes of being in the bathroom, expelling food that was somehow horrible for my system.  And now, I was supposed to go out into a room of my family when I couldn’t wipe my own butt.

I improvised.  I took a guest towel (small towel), wet it, and tried to drag it between my legs.  This didn’t help much, but it apparently did enough so that I was able to be sanitary.

So, my Christmas revelation?  When you are unable to use the bathroom and keep yourself sanitary, you have reached the point of no return.  At this point, you must, must, must make a change in your life.

I really thank the last commentator for the link to FitDay — this has helped with calories I am taking in.  It is sometimes disheartening, but helps me figure things out, for sure.  I also like to see when I am burning calories, even by doing things like walking the dog for a few minutes, going to the corner in our 3 feet of snow.

On Wednesday I went to see my doctor for the first time in two years at Northwestern Memorial Hospital’s Wellness Institute.  Through a lot of ridiculous missteps I don’t have time to go into here, my doctor actually separated from the Wellness Institute, and is now across the street.  But, I saw the nutritionist.  And got weighed.  And was floored to see I was 474 pounds.  I knew I was over 400, but thought maybe 440.  It was shocking.  I mean, this is what people weigh when they are housebound.  When they are on the TV shows with ulcers on their legs, not being able to move from their beds.  I am an attorney, have a relatively new two-year-old solo practice after leaving a large law firm in Chicago (where I never fit in, I’m sure partly because of my weight).  I mean, I do aqua exercises for an hour each week (ok, it is only one time each week, because I get so exhausted from the hour, I don’t go back until the next weekend), I walk my dog three times or so each day (yes, the walks are shorter now that I am tired, and since it is now minus 30 degrees here today, I am only standing on the porch, but to be fair, he is standing on the porch and peeing too — so I am not the only lazy and cold one in the house).  I know as I am writing this there are excuses coming from my mouth, but I guess what I don’t understand is how the calories I take in can add up to me being 474 pounds.  I know what I eat, what is bad, what is good.  I will say I freaked myself out by writing everything down, and was shocked to find out I could eat 4000 calories in a day.  Not necessarily horrible food, but 4000 calories of medium fat food. 

So here I am, on my 5th day after seeing the nutritionist.  I saw the doctor on Thursday, as well.  She wanted me to consider bariatric surgery.  I am very anti-bariatric surgery, for a number of reasons.  First, for many years I defended doctors and hospitals in medical malpractice suits on cases of bariatric surgery gone wrong.  I know the very, very bad side of the surgery.  I experienced many depositions when the Plaintiffs — who were either the patients with holes in their stomachs that never closed, or husbands of dead women who had the surgery, or a person who had to undergo multiple surgeries after the bariatric one to repair a punctured something or the other — would stare at me across the table, trying to commune with me, the fat one in the room, and telepathically say to me “Don’t have this surgery.  Don’t have this surgery.  Don’t have this surgery.”  It was an interesting phenomenon, especially since I was representing one of the doctors they were suing.  But, it was more important for them to keep me from having the surgery than to win their case. (not all, some of these people were ridiculous, especially the ones who were suing on behalf of a dead spouse after being separated from the spouse for a number of years before the surgery, but that is another story).

Anyways, then there is the issue about the principle of the thing.  Why should I be forced to undergo a life threatening surgery so that I can make myself physically more appealing to the public at large.  Screw the public.  I will wear my sleeveless shirts and shorts just to make you uncomfortable.  My entire life is uncomfortable.  Deal with it.  I don’t feel compelled to risk my life to make you more at ease by not having to look at my flabby body.

Then there is the issue about how it decreases your ability to enjoy life.  My sister had the surgery about 15 years ago.  She is just as heavy as she ever was, but she experiences hell every time she eats.  How is that an improvement in the quality of my life?  i would rather die happy than live an extra 10-20 years being unhappy every day.

Finally, I don’t understand the point of the surgery.  After surgery, you have to eat a liquid diet for a long time.  Then you eat a handful size of food for the rest of your life, and exercise every day.  Hmmmm, if I could do that, i would not be in the situation I am in right now.  To be honest, if I could exercise every day right now, I would not be in the situation I am in right now.  Screw the diet.

So yes, I am still in denial.  I know exactly what my problems are.  I just don’t know how to fix them.  I have taken the first step by keeping a food log.  First day was 3290 calories (Thursday).  Friday was 3710.  Saturday was 2450 (my swim day, exercised for an hour, including 50 walking laps in the therapy pool, 100 kicks (20 in each direction, plus 20 plie/releve combos), 80 arm exercises), also shopped for 1-1/2 hours.  Sunday I didn’t keep track, but I am back on today, and here I am, trying anew.

Doctor says I am to return in 3 months after doing a few things 1) keeping logs, 2) exercising on my Precor at home 5 minutes 5x a week, which I suggested, ugh, 3) swimming once a week, 4) seeing nutritionist once a month, and 5) seeing a psychologist who specializes in weight issues weekly, or 3x/month.  I also need to have a sleep study done for sleep apnea, which is scheduled for the 3rd of January. 

So far I have done the logs and swimming.  I’m also taking vitamins and fiber and calcium tablets.  I’m trying.