FrankenPants, Kissy Shirts and Argyle Sweaters

The Results Of Surgical Alterations...To Clothing and To Me


My Bonus Mom is awesome.  She volunteered to help me stretch my wardrobe while I am shrinking by altering things as they became too big.  I took her up on the offer for several reasons: to save money by not replacing items for a while; to save my sanity by not doing a lot of shopping just yet, as I still have a long way yet to go; to save some still perfectly good jeans that I've worn and loved for a long time before I have to give them up to the "donate" basket.  It's strange how sentimental I can be about certain items of clothing, but the jeans I'm talking about in this case also have pockets, so they are practical.  I can be sentimental about practicality as well!

After several fittings, Bonus Mom called last week to tell me that my jeans were all done and I could come and pick them up anytime.  Hallelujah, my beloved jeans and their pockets would soon be back on my frame and fitting me better since their surgical alterations, necessitated by my surgical alterations.  The last time she did a fitting, she asked if I wanted her to cut out the excess fabric from the seams inside where she took them in, and I said that wouldn't be necessary since the pair I tried on felt fine without it removed.

I am so glad I had her leave the excess fabric there!  If I turn the pants inside out, I can see exactly how much she took the waist in, both front and back, as well as the inches taken in on each leg.  Turned inside out, they look like FrankenPants!  But in a wonderful way.  It is one more bit of tangible evidence of the progress made since this whole weight loss adventure began.

As I think about my wardrobe, there are some items that I'll never part with no matter how much too big they are, just because I love them, because of their history.  I have a ginormous red sweatshirt with "St. Simons Island" emblazoned on the front.  It was too big when I bought it, so it's really too big now.  But I'll never get rid of it.  I bought it on my first trip there with The Hubs.  We usually took vacations in Destin, Florida, but that particular year, our favorite place had experienced hurricane damage.  I had been to St. Simons as a teenager with my church youth group and suggested we might try going there for a change.  Our first trip to the island was magical, and was not our last.  It has become another favorite vacation spot for us. My sweatshirt is like a warm hug reminding me of every wonderful time we've enjoyed there.  No, I won't be donating it.

I have a white shirt with bright pink and red lipstick prints on it that swirls around on me now, but I won't be getting rid of it, either.  Too much history and too many good memories.  It's been with me on every trip with The Hubs ever since I bought it a hundred years ago.  I've had strange ladies yell at me in shopping malls in other states to say my shirt was cool.  At the end of a trip to Las Vegas, as we were leaving our hotel around 4 in the morning, we stopped in the hotel restaurant to get some pre-airport breakfast and I was wearing The Shirt.  There were a couple of inebriated and clearly sleep-deprived young male gamblers in the breakfast line behind us, flirting with me and saying how much they liked my shirt.  On a different Vegas trip, we were having dinner in Quark's (the Star Trek-themed restaurant that used to be in The Star Trek Experience at the Hilton, DON'T JUDGE ME, I KNOW I'M A GEEK!) and the resident Klingon stopped at our table and commented on my shirt, expressing concern that numerous small creatures had been biting me and left their marks behind.  I've worn it to work pretty often, but one day, on a dare or something, I ended up taking photos of a bunch of my male coworkers posing in the "kissy" shirt.  Dudes in that shirt were just too funny.  Those pictures died several computers ago, unfortunately.  I'd love to be able to Facebook them now!

Some items of clothing are irreplaceable, either because they are no longer made or because of the history and memories attached to them.  Some things, however, can be replaced, in the smaller sizes I can now fit into.  As I write this, I have just received a little gift from the UPS man.  It was a package containing smaller versions of my favorite flannel pajamas and a slightly different version of my favorite black and red argyle sweater.  I am meeting some friends for dinner in a couple of days, people who have not seen me since surgery.  I may wear the new sweater and take the old one with me, to show them, and myself, how far this journey has brought me to this point.

Fifteen Years Ago Today...

...The Beginning Of The End


This day 15 years ago, Mama went into the hospital.  I remember it vividly even now.  It was a Tuesday, cool and very autumn-y.  I worked that day and then went to an appointment after work, returning home a little after 6 pm.  It was still daylight and I remember the maple leaves were so brightly colored that I stopped before I went into the house to pick up a handful from under the tree where they had fallen.  I was watching a lot of Martha Stewart back then because the TV station I worked at aired her show, and she had just done a segment about preserving leaves and using them in decorative projects, and I was going to preserve them to frame as wall art.

When I got inside the house I checked the answering machine.  I heard Dad's voice saying that he had taken Mama to the hospital that afternoon and that she had been admitted.  My pager had never gone off during the day and I remember being annoyed that he had not paged me, and that hours had gone by without me knowing Mama was in the hospital.  I was also very scared.  Mama's COPD (chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, usually emphysema or chronic bronchitis, or both) had been getting steadily worse that year.  In fact, the appointment I had been to that afternoon after work was to see my therapist, an insightful woman I had been seeing for months in part due to Mama's worsening condition and my emotional issues stemming from my fears that she was dying.  There were other issues that spurred me to seek counseling, private things that I won't discuss here.  (As wide-open as I am and as transparent as I've been with this blog, even I have limits, and some things don't need to be rehashed for public consumption.)  We had just gotten Mom-In-Law out of that same hospital where she had been for colon cancer surgery, and I had been in there a few months before that, in May, because I had fallen and broken my leg and both sides of my ankle and needed emergency surgery to repair the damage.  It felt like, by the end of 1997, I and my family, either as patients or caregivers, had spent half the year inside those walls.

I had a minor meltdown in my kitchen, railing at God in anger, crying out in fear and desperation.  Then I rushed to pack a bag so I could get to the hospital to spend the night with Mama.  That first night was rough for her, and for me.  She was agitated and the Ativan administered upset her stomach but didn't do much to calm her nerves.  That day and night were the beginning of the end of a lot of things, for all of us.

She was in the hospital for several weeks, released for about a week and then had to return for the final time.  I was writing a lot then, as I had been doing throughout that year, because my emotions were overwhelming and needed to come out in some way.  Journaling, LOTS of bad poetry, stream of consciousness, whatever came from my heart to my pen to the page to help me survive.  My spiritual life and my relationship with God were at an all-time low, due to my own stubbornness and bad choices, and the time I spent with Mama in the hospital was the first time in forever that I had actually wanted to do the right thing.  There is an old saying about when we feel like God is far away, He's not the one who moved.  That's where I was.  But He never left me, and looking back, I can see so many times when He was so close, His heart breaking with mine as I watched Mama get sicker.  He sent a nurse to comfort me on Mama's last day, one whose name and face I cannot recall, but I remember the feeling of her arm around my shoulder, her voice telling me that I could talk to Mama and hold her hand and pet her if I wanted, that nothing was bothering her now and she didn't believe Mama was in any pain.  I know now that Mama was actively dying.  I think that nurse might have been an angel, because I don't remember seeing her before that day.  He sent lots of comfort to us during our time in the hospital, comfort I needed but felt like I didn't deserve.  I am so thankful that God loved me in spite of my failures, and that He still does.  

I'll probably share more about this in the weeks to come, but for now I think this is about all you and I can stand!  Mama and God are together in Heaven, and I have learned to live my life without her physical presence in it.  She is always with me, in my heart, my memories and my family who also loved her so very much.  "It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."    

Happy Anniversary

What A Difference A Year Makes


One year ago today, The Hubs and I began my weight loss surgery journey with our initial consultation at the surgeon's office.  I could not have imagined on that day that my body, my perspective and my life would be so different just a year later.  One year ago today, I was at my heaviest weight ever and had been hovering there pretty consistently for a long while, resulting in hip and ankle pain that had become too much to manage.  I certainly didn't dream that in one year, 82-ish pounds would be gone!  It would have been too much to hope for.

This year has been filled with new experiences, as well as the joy of old experiences revisited...little things, really, that average-sized people take for granted.  Last month I went to a meeting of the music fraternity on my college campus for which I serve as Chapter Mother.  The first part of the meeting took place in the normal classroom setup, complete with those one-piece student desks, the kind I hadn't been able to wedge myself into in years.  I fit into them now.  Crossing my legs is not not only possible, but comfortable again.  In a recent photograph, I could swear that I saw my collarbones.  I realize that most people can't relate to these little victories, but plus-size folk can understand what I'm talking about.  When you're big, the world doesn't fit you a lot of the time.  And when you're really big, you're also usually really uncomfortable.

This year has been one of extremes, both emotionally and physically.  My physical recovery from surgery was pretty painful, and for a longer time than I had anticipated.  But it was also the most invasive surgery I have ever undergone, and I am the oldest I've ever been (and that indeed makes a difference), so a longer recovery and more pain was normal and to be expected.  I tell people now that for me, surgery was a good decision and I am glad I did it.  I also tell them that if they need to lose weight and are able to lose it without surgical intervention, by all means do it that way!  For me, surgery was a much-needed remedy.

My emotions have run the gamut all year long, not just from surgery prep and completion, but from the unit of Clinical Pastoral Education I completed in the first half of the year.  Without going into a lot of detail I'll just say that CPE, especially doing it while I was also preparing for my surgery, was a Godsend and a revelation.  I learned so much about myself and what makes me tick, why some of my issues are so deeply ingrained, and how I could begin to help myself heal.  I was blessed to experience the acceptance and support of a group of people who began as strangers and became intimate friends during the time we shared.  I saw things I never could have dreamed I would encounter, and each experience taught me something valuable.  I have asserted before that CPE did more to change me than surgery ever will.  And I stand by that statement even now.

I'm still me even after all the changes this last year has brought.  As I wrote in my very first blog post, there are some things about me that will never, ever change.

I am a blunt, plainspoken Southern Diva, with big boobs and a big heart underneath them;
I am a woman, wife, musician, daughter/sister/cousin/aunt/niece/friend, volunteer and child of God;
I will always have curves no matter how much I shrink;
I am a big believer that God allows everything for a purpose, and that His timing is always significant.

I'm still me and I always will be.  My hope is that I am becoming the best me that I can be.

Milestones, Touchstones and Family

The Real Stuff Of Life

This past week has been a roller-coaster ride!  The chamber group I sing with had late rehearsals/concerts every night (although I missed the Tuesday practice due to a back injury).  We joined with the city's symphony orchestra for Leonard Bernstein's "Candide".  There are numerous configurations of this work; we performed a suite lasting about 45-50 minutes.  The music is demanding but also fun, and it was music I had never sung before, so I enjoyed the challenge of learning something new.

Wednesday morning when I stepped on the scale I nearly giggled with glee, because it showed me that I've lost 80 pounds.  HOLY MOLY!  I went digging through my closet again to see what was in there, and tonight I fit my body into dresses that not only have not been on me in a hundred years, but that I really did not expect to be fitting into yet.  The black velvet number I mentioned in a long-ago blog post fits me again...and fits me pretty well.  The Hubs may have to talk me someplace fancy for dinner so I can wear it.

Today we went to my cousin's wedding, to which I wore another dress that I have not worn in forever.  I will admit to some nervousness about today.  It would be my first time seeing a lot of my extended family since before my surgery, and I wanted to look nice.  My kinfolks are some of the sweetest, most supportive people in the world, and I heard lots of positive comments about the change in my appearance, as well as genuine concern about how I'm feeling.  The wedding was beautiful, an outdoor affair with a fall color scheme and a solo violinist providing exquisite music.  A longtime family friend and brilliantly gifted designer made vibrant flower bouquets, corsages and arrangements.  The ceremony was heartfelt and memorable, and the radiantly beautiful bride and groom assembled a Unity Cross which will be displayed in their home.

I had the chance to sit alone with my 87-year old Aunt Ruby (the Aunt Ruby whose biscuits were a big part of another previous blog post!) and to have a wonderful visit with her all to myself.  She looked lovely today, dressed in a periwinkle-colored top that complemented her silver hair.  She has always had a pretty complexion, and even now her face does not fully show her age.  We sat together as the sun started to set, enjoying the surroundings and each other's company.  She is a touchstone for me and always has been.  She is the last of her siblings living, and I know that my chances for visits like this with her won't last forever.      

The beauty and joy of the day was tempered a bit for me by news that my 4-year college roommate's father had passed away late last night.  Since our school and dorm days, she has been another touchstone for me, one of my core group of people I want to share my life with, my chosen family.  No matter how long it has been since we saw each other or spoke on the phone (she lives about 800 miles away from me) it is always as though we just talked yesterday.  As I prayed for my cousin, her husband and the new family they formed today, I also asked God to comfort my roomie in the loss of her father.  He is in Heaven with the Lord, and reunited with his precious wife, happy and whole in a way he has never been before.  Happy in his forever home.

In the grand scheme of things, my weight loss, while important, is only a part of the stuff of life.  The joy of new beginnings, the heartache of losses, the moments shared with people we love...those are the things that really matter.  My prayer for this whole weight loss adventure is that it will enable me to participate more fully in the life of my family, both blood and chosen, to share their burdens as well as their joys, and to do so for a very long time to come.         

Up Where We Belong

Homecoming, Coming Home and The Value of Support


This week I enjoyed some wonderful friendship, fellowship and encouragement from a few different sources.  Yesterday was Homecoming at my college (Alma Mater, Hail!) and I took a day off from work so I could attend some of the activities there.  I am not a huge sports fan so I didn't stay for the football game.  My biggest source of excitement was the music department's annual concert (the Music Sampler) at the church on campus.  Each of the department's ensembles presented 2 or 3 selections and the listeners got a good variety of both choral and instrumental music to enjoy.  The Sampler is also a huge draw for alumni from all majors, but usually there is a large concentration of music alumni who show up.  For me, it's a chance to see my former classmates, enjoy my students from the music fraternity on campus for whom I serve as Chapter Mother, and see current and former faculty members.  Yesterday a highlight for me was seeing my college voice professor and getting a photo made together with him.  He remembered me (I never take for granted that someone from so long ago will remember who I am because, in my fat-girl insecurity, I have never felt like I was all that memorable a person).  This man saw and heard something in my voice that he judged to be worthwhile,  and he did his very best to bring out my very best, as a musician and as a human being.  I will adore him until I draw my last earthly breath.  Every time I open my mouth to sing, I owe him a huge debt of gratitude.

I saw other faculty, past and present, as well as former classmates, some of whom I had pictures made with.  It's nice to be less afraid of the camera now that I have shrunk some!  I am paying a little bit today for having walked around for most of the day in boots I had not worn in years, but I had a great day.  Afterward I stopped by Dad and Bonus Mom's to pick up a pair of jeans she had hemmed for me.  Looking at myself in the mirror wearing a pair of jeans (jeans with a zipper and hip pockets!) that fit me better, I could begin to see the shrinkage and the progress made to this point.  It's encouraging... and a little strange.  My mind needs a chance to catch up to the changes in my body.  I'll get there, and if I have trouble, there is a therapist at the surgeon's office I can talk with.  It feels good to have that particular safety net in place should I need it.

The night before was a supper club night with our small weight loss support group, another wonderful source of fellowship and encouragement.  It had been 3 weeks since our last gathering and we all had ups and downs to share.  The woman who initiated our little group told us about something she had read which reported that people who try to lose weight have the best success when they do it in a group.  It makes sense.  While weight loss is in many ways a solitary endeavor, the support and understanding of like-minded people who share the same struggle can make all the difference in one's success.  We have to do the work ourselves, but we can't really do it in a vacuum.  Reinforcement is vital.

After I got home from supper club, I auditioned a couple of outfits for Homecoming and The Hubs gave me his input on which worked better.  I was able to try them on with new, smaller bras that I had ordered and been praying would arrive in time to wear for Homecoming.  The ones I've been wearing were just too large around the ribcage and were not offering great support any longer.  What a relief to put on undergarments that fit properly and hitched The Girls up to their rightful place!  I could almost hear them sighing in renewed comfort and singing "Up Where We Belong"!  Well-fitting underwear of any kind improves both posture and confidence, and as I continue to shrink, it will also serve to hitch things up and pull things in.  There is an Internet joke that has gone around for the last several years about how good friends are like a well-fitting bra... always there to offer support!  I was reminded this week just how true it is, and I am so grateful for all the support in my life.  

Four Months (And Three Days) Since Surgery

"Wow Moments", The Latest Checkup and Last Year's Face


Today was 4 months and 3 days since my weight loss surgery, and I had a checkup with the dietician and the exercise physiologist at the surgeon's office.  My blood pressure was 104/68, which is pretty standard for me.  As for my weight loss, I am still ahead of schedule, almost at the 6-month mark.  The dietician and exercise physiologist were both very pleased with my progress and I got an "A-Plus" for the day.  According to my scale, I have now lost 76 pounds.  Thank You, Lord, for a chance to regain my health and strength.

In the last couple of weeks I have had a few "wow moments".  In the course of just a couple of days I ran into 2 different people at work whom I had not seen since surgery.  I ran into one in the lobby, asked how she was getting along and we chatted for a few minutes.  She looked at me for a second and said, "You look wonderful!"  I never had the chance to tell her about my surgery so I don't think she knows that I had it.  The other one stopped on her way out of the parking garage to holler at me from her car window and say, "You look great!"  She definitely knows I had surgery because I told her beforehand that I was going to do so.  As I have stated before, compliments are not why I did it...but they are nice.

Over the weekend we had the chance to visit with The Hubs's brother and his wife, as well as my out-of-state sister-in-law who was in town for a visit.  It was great to see them all, catch up on the latest family gossip and enjoy their support of my decision and my progress along the weight loss path.  As we were getting ready to go, I began to say something to The Hubs and then stopped short.  He asked what I was going to say, and I said that I was going to ask a ridiculous question:  Would my weight loss be visible?  He replied that yes, it is indeed visible and yes, it was a ridiculous question.  Then he had a question for me.  He said, "There's always going to be a little fat girl living inside you, isn't there?"  I said, probably so.

It got me thinking about self-image.  How is it that we can look in the mirror and see ourselves one way, then when confronted by a photograph we see something totally different?  I had trouble realizing just how large I had become until a little over a year ago when I was photographed as part of the United Way campaign at work.  Digital cameras give us the chance to view in an instant the captured images, as well as to delete the ones we don't like!  I went in for my photo shoot, a very brief affair, after which the photographer gave me the chance to view the shots he had just snapped.  Head-and-shoulders and waist-up shots were all OK...but I was completely unprepared for the full-length shots he had taken.  I looked like a basketball perched on toothpick legs!  After blinking and smiling my jolly-fat-girl smile, I asked that only the waist-up and/or head-and-shoulders shots be used for the campaign, and my request was honored (as far as I know, at least, I never saw any full-length shots in any of the campaign materials posted around the workplace).

They are using images from last year's shoot in this year's campaign as well.  When I pass by one of the water fountains, I see my face staring at me.  Last year's face.  Still mine, but much fuller and rounder than the face I have this year.  Over the weekend at my brother-in-law's house, my sister-in-law wanted to take a picture of me and The Hubs together.  It's the first photo taken of me since surgery, and the first time I've seen myself other than in the mirror.  I have to admit, the change astonished me, in a good way.  But I still asked for only waist-up shots!  Another part of the Ever-Changing Never-Changing.  I am still quite solidly entrenched in Plus-Size World, but much less so than a year ago.  And no matter how much I shrink, my self-perception will never be completely accurate.  I don't think anyone's can be.  The mirror always looks different than the photograph.