|Birthday Card designed and created by Kristina Daniels.|
…you know, the one when you wake up and realize you not only have a mile-long list of stuff to do today but also have to catch up on all the stuff you didn’t do yesterday because you were busy goofing off? Yeah. that hangover.
It should have been a great day, really. Due to unexpected circumstances, I got to see my parents and my brother, as well as one of my best friends, who made me the card you see above and brought me a bouquet of flowers as well. (Yes, men are allowed to like flowers. I checked.) I got an awesome lightweight laptop from my in-laws, who wanted me to have something to write with while I was in the hospital and recovering from surgery next month. I had dozens of birthday wishes from friends and family all over the country.
So why didn’t I enjoy my birthday more?
In a word: food.
I wanted to go have a beer or three to celebrate. I couldn’t.
I wanted to go out to dinner somewhere, like I’ve done for my birthday every year that I can remember. Not only was this a bad idea from a diet perspective, but I couldn’t exactly go by myself. (Lor is still recovering and on a liquid diet besides.)
I wanted a birthday cake and ice cream so bad it almost felt like physical pain.
I got through the day successfully, managing to stay under my daily max of 105 grams of carbs with room to spare. But I was miserable all day. I smiled while visiting with everyone, did my best to be nice to Lor, and spent most of the day trying not to think about food. It was hard – probably harder than any day I have experienced since the first week of our low-carb diet switch. As a result, I was probably not as friendly as I should have been, and my nursing care for Lor definitely suffered. As did all the stuff that I should’ve been doing around the house. Which I am getting to do today. Which is not making me very happy.
See a pattern here?
At the beginning of this pre-surgical process, I was really worried about being restricted from various foods, because fat men love food, right? (And no, I am not afraid of the term “fat”, political correctness notwithstanding. That is probably a whole other post.) These days, I am beginning to resent my attraction to food. These overwhelming cravings just drive me crazy – they make me feel like an addict in recovery. Ok, ok – I am an addict in recovery. But that doesn’t make me like it any better.
Many post-bariatric surgery patients talk about how their entire relationship with food had changed. They no longer want to eat, but now look at food as nothing more than fuel – the body has to be “gassed up” every once in a while, but otherwise they do not enjoy eating. And that whole idea makes me sad, too. Because deep down, I don’t want my love of food to be removed from my life.
Because I love eating so much that it has made me obese.
Someone help me off this carousel – it is making me so dizzy that I want to throw up.
Looking For The Nearest Trash Can,