This picture above is me about a year ago, when I still lived in Florida and was visiting friends from Michigan. This is a pretty accurate depiction of what I look like now, minus the long hair. Oh, how I wish I wouldn't have cut my hair!

First of all, let me say that I am happy with the response I got from my Barbie story. That kind of had a life of its own. I found the picture and began writing whatever came to mind. I'm glad my readers don't think I've absolutely lost it. I have found more Barbie pictures and I will be writing more. I really enjoyed it and the response I got. Kas, you probably think I'm nuts. LOL.


Anyway, I wanted to write about this a few days ago and decided to wait until I had enough time to do so. It is not 10:00 AM, I've been up for two hours drinking coffee, so I guess the time is good now. As you can see, I was not heavy. I was always a few pounds overweight but it never bothered me in the least. I had my first child when I was 16 (a story for another day, trust me) and I put on some weight but still not enough to really bother me. Through the ages of 17-20 I would say I was pretty comfortable until one day, when I was about to turn 21, I stood on the scale and it said "222." I was so upset but immediately started dieting, taking pills, walking, and watching what I ate. I didn't lose any weight. In fact, between the fall of 1998 (while this was going on) and the spring of 1999, I gained 45 pounds, putting me at about 270. I desperately began walking and exercising. Don't get me wrong. The exercise was great, made me feel so much better. I also didn't get colds as often as I normally did, so I knew I was doing something right. But the weight just would not come off. In the summer of 1999, I went through a phase where I didn't eat much and instead drank alcohol every single day. I lost twenty five pounds or so, without even realizing it, but didn't want to continue doing it that way. I gained it all back in a few months.

In January of 2001 I moved back to Michigan from Kentucky and decided I'd had enough. 265 was just too close to 300 for my comfort. I worked as a server at a local restaurant, which put me on my feet all the time, and I had no money to join a gym, so I walked two miles a day (even in the blistering cold, and I didn't mind it at all), ate a lot of vegetables and healthy soup, avoided soda, and did Tae-Bo every single day. I enjoyed Tae-Bo because at the time, I did it so often that it felt like workout without me feeling like I was going to die. I did this for a few months and successfully lost about fifteen pounds. Then I went to Kentucky to visit Ray over Spring Break and ate all kinds of food, and gained all the weight back plus more. Discouraged, I quit trying for a while. Then, after Shawn and I got married, we weighed ourselves. I weighed 289, and freaked out again. Once again, I went on a diet and exercise regimen that included cutting down my caloric intake and walking for exercise. I lost,again, about 15 pounds. Then gained it all back.

In January of 2004, we decided to join a gym, as well as modify our caloric intake. I bought some diet pills and committed myself to working out. I enjoyed it. I started out walking on the treadmill 2 miles a day at a medium speed and then doing some water aerobics. Over a few week's time, I was walking up to 6 miles a day, weight training for forty five minutes, and doing the elipticals for a half hour, and then swimming a few laps before soaking in the hot tub. I have to tell you, I never felt better or healthier. And even though I was still obese, I felt like I was in the best shape of my life. I probably was. I successfully lost about 45 pounds, my biggest loss ever. Then we went to California to see my dad through heart surgery, and we both kind of fell off the wagon. When we got back to Florida, we continued our diet and exercise regimen, but it was too late. We gained every pound back, plus more. After that experience, I was discouraged but not quite ready to give up just yet. I wanted to go back to the gym, but I was so tired all the time I couldn't quite do it. Finally, I went to the doctor in the fall of 2004. She made me lay down on the table and she poked me for a few minutes. She said, "God, you're swollen." I said, "Swollen?" She said, "Yes. You have a bad case of edema." Then she asked me, "Have you ever tried to lose weight?" I said yes and explained all that I had done over the years. She nodded and then asked me if anyone in my family had thyroid problems. I said I didn't know. She then ordered me to have blood tests. I did. A few days later, I called her at her office to find out about the tests. She told me she was shocked to discover that not only was my thyroid dysnfunctional, it didn't function at all. (The thyroid is the gland that produces the hormone that regulates your metabolism, in case you didn't know.) She then explained to me that all thyroids produce a hormone they call T3 and T4. T4 is the one that regulates the metabolism, and sometimes people produce very little T4, which can cause them to gain weight easily. That seemed obvious to me. No metabolism, no weight loss. Then she told me, "Your thyroid gland produces NO T4. There is not a trace of it in your blood work. None. Which explains why you are so swollen, tired, and unable to lose weight." I said, "But I can lose weight. I've done it before." She explained to me that yes, I could lose all the weight I wanted, but I was jump starting my metabolism by doing so. In other words, it was like walking on a treadmill that's not turned on. You can walk on it, and make it move, but as soon as you stop, it stops. I was like, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Suddenly it made perfect sense. Working out was great, but my metabolism stopped as soon as I did, which is why anything I ate after working out would hardly be metabolized. No wonder it was so hard to lose it and keep it off. She prescribed some medication that I have to take the rest of my life and referred me to an endocrinologist. The endocrinologist prescribed a stronger form of the medication. Now, I am at 297 pounds but I have not gained any more, thanks to the pills. I'm not losing any either. When I moved to Michigan, I became very aware of how miserable I was. I started seeing commercials on TV for the Hurley Bariatric Center. We've all heard of gastric bypass surgery, but now I started paying more attention. Now that I have insurance, I called the center and asked them to send me some information, which they did. I sat down on my bed and read every piece of information included in the packet. I was so choked up by the time I was done reading that I had to fight back tears.

I am so sick of being fat. I hate it. No one looks at you, they look through you in most instances, and I feel so ugly and unattractive. I feel ashamed when men hold doors open for me. I wish they didn't. I don't feel like a real woman, but rather a second class citizen who doesn't get the same rights and privileges as other people do. I hate going shopping, I hate doing anything in public. I can't breathe right half the time, and if I fall asleep on my back I'm in for serious trouble, as I cannot breathe at all like that. More than once I have felt like I was strangling myself in my sleep, lying on my back, semi-conscious and unable to turn over to save myself from asphyxiating. I have huge, deep abrasions all over my body that look like gigantic pimples. They hurt. My skin is terrible. Half the time, I don't even bother doing my hair or putting on makeup. What's the point?

So, I called my insurance company and asked them if they covered the procedure. They said they would, if it was deemed medically necessary. Then I called the center back and they answered some of my questions. I will be unable to get the lap band surgery, because my insurance won't pay for that. They will only pay for gastric bypass. They also informed me that my insurance requires that I be on a physician supervised diet and exercise program for SIX MONTHS before I can get a referral for a consultation. That part I didn't like, but I'll do whatever it takes. I am serious. I am going to have that surgery. I've read up on the risks associated with it, and have concluded that the risks are worth taking. If I don't, I'm going to die anyway. My heart is under stress, I almost certainly have diabetes, and I just overall feel like hell. I am so excited about this that I have called most of my family members and discussed it with them. My sister Michelle, who is tall and slender and beautiful, said that she understood why I made that decision and even though she has never been heavy, she wouldn't want to imagine what it's like. Lynn is a little more nervous about the risks, but she also understands and supports me. (She once lost over 80 pounds herself.) My husband is supportive. My father is supportive. My grandmother is ecstatic. (The woman is 84 years old, about 5'4", and weighs a healthy 105 lbs. She also plays tennis competitively and excercises every night.) My cousin Andyro is right there with me. Everyone is. If what the center says is true, and I have to wait six months for a consultation, then I will do that. That means that right around this time next year I should either be reuperating from surgery or just returning to normal after the surgery. I don't know how long the period is between the initial consultation and the actual surgery, so I am estimating that the surgery will take place sometime in September. The healing time is 4-6 weeks, not unlike a C-section, of which I've had two. Anyway, it was the center that told me it would take six months. The insurance company didn't mention that, they just said they would pay for it if it was deemed medically necessary. I don't think I'll have a problem with that. All you have to do is look at me. So, hopefully, a year and a half from now, I will be posting pics in this blog of how different I look. Of course, the blog is not going to revolve around my weight loss. That's boring. I will continue to talk about everything else. But I wanted to share it with everyone. Because I want to be feel better. I want to be healthy. I want to look good. I want the attention I used to get. I want to be able to wear clothes that don't have puppies and kittens and bowls of fruit on them. I want to spend thirty bucks on an outfit, not go to a specialty store and pay $65 for a shirt.

That's it for now. I'll be back later, I'm sure. I have developed this really nasty cold with a sore throat, so I'm going to go lie down for a while. I've been keeping track....this is the 4th time I've been sick with infections (even though the cold is not an infection, I'm counting it because I have a sore throat) since September. I have a few weeks where I feel fine, and then I'm sick again. I can't wait for this shit to stop either.

So here are some pics I think you'll like, me in various stages of growing up. It took me forever to load these stupid pictures but it was worth it. Enjoy!

This is me, on the left, my awesome grandmother, and my even more awesome sister (not the mean dunk one). This picture was taken in 1998.
The picture above is of me and my nephew Ricky. Somewhere else in this blog is a picture we took together last year. He was making a funny face in that picture, too. Not much changes. I was about 12 years old, maybe 13, in this picture.
The picture above is of me at about 14 years old and a friend of the family, and I have no idea where we are. Only that I am personally responsible for a gigantic hole in the ozone layer.
The picture above is me in 1995, at the tender and all-knowing age of 18.
The pictures above are pictures of me in the 7th and 8th grades. (8th grade is the yellow sweater and the rather frightening hair.)