Christmas is a Time for Treating

Merry Xmas, Happy Holidays, etc. etc...we all know the season and the stores remind us of the reason at every opportunity. It's to overeat and indulge, right?

Well, that's what one aspect of the holiday has become. My indulgence today is to not do my weigh-in, meaning I'll do my next one on Monday. I don't need to be reminded that I'm stuck in a plateau...Merry Christmas to me!

People with the Roux-en-Y surgery...and I suspect Lap-Banding...can't really "indulge" in the way that other people do. Loosening the belt just doesn't allow us to stuff in another helping of ham or stuffing.

The bad part is that we may want to still eat the way we used to; it's a head hunger and habit. It's also bad because eating is a social bonding experience. Families equate eating with social bonding. So while the bari post-op has finished his or her small portion (actually closer to a "real portion") of food on the mini-plate, everyone else is going back for seconds or thirds.

This is a tough time for post-ops. This is my first Xmas without being able to indulge...I'm rapidly approaching one year since starting my dieting program. And in some ways it kind of sucks; I'm the type of person that just isn't happy with having a thumbnail portion of each item available, so I have my meals that I tend to stick with.

On the plus side, the reduced stomach size helps warn you when you've eaten too much. I get this half-uncomfortable blah feeling that signals that it's time to stop ingesting. Now, this can be "beaten" by just eating slowly over time, or overeating by taking many small snacks that add up the calories.

In the end losing weight comes down to calories. Eat less, lose weight. The holiday treat time is to find the one or two things you really really enjoy and have a portion of it. As long as it doesn't have sugar as a primary ingredient (a coworker makes the best fudge, and I couldn't have it this year because I would get sick as a dog if I did...I also learned that the chai at Sam's Club has sugar as a first ingredient, and it did indeed make me sick, even though most other chai teas don't).

Hopefully other post-ops are doing well with their diet efforts over the holiday season. Everyone else is probably indulging as usual and then will swear off foods until New Year's rolls around, then will make their annual promises to lose X amount of pounds. And the cycle continues...have fun!

What It's Like to Weigh 500 Pounds

I have been working on a first draft of a novel for several months now, and after over 100,000 words am finally drawing near the end (then comes the FUN part...editing and rewriting parts of the draft so I can submit it in hopes of finding an agent!)

I was exploring different ways to end the story and yes, it includes the possibility of killing someone. Maybe not in real life, but one of the characters might die. I don't know yet. In either case I remembered picking up and glancing at a bargain book at the local Barnes and Noble titled How It Feels to be Attacked by a Shark edited by Michelle Hamer. It had accounts by various people, apparently all Australian or New Zealanders, regarding their brushes with death.

It includes (on the back jacket) stories of getting shot in the heart with a nail gun, come back from the dead, getting trapped in an avalanche...interesting stuff, I thought, and maybe the recollections could help in my own shaping and description of a realistic fight or death in the story.

I started reading it and after a couple accounts of being struck by lightning and saving a kid from a storm drain after a torrential storm, I found one titled "How it feels to weigh five hundred pounds."

I had to stop for a break. Looking back at my own weight loss records, I started this year at 458 pounds. About 40 pounds shy of 500, but still it's up there. Before I had lost weight the first time, many years ago...maybe six or seven years?...I was probably pushing 500, if not a little higher. I honestly don't know if there is a record of it.

Seeing that title first had me thinking, "Is that really a life or death account?" Then I was scraping my own memories to see if I could recall what it was "really" like for me at that weight. What do I say to someone if they asked about it?

I sat back down and read the story. One thing I definitely took away from it was that not all fat people are fat in the same way.

This is the story as told by (and about) Bobby Ballantyne, 42. She hated her father's vegetables and fish, so she'd toss them aside in favor of ice cream and chips and candy. She'd make herself three or four "big, thickly sliced toasted sandwiches" instead. Hmm...okay, I don't think I normally had three or four sandwiches, but I would have two. I don't remember doing it but it's possible I had three on occasion.

She said she had seven kids, getting heavier after each one. Can't say I did that.

Then she said that one day she couldn't climb a chair to clean the top of the fridge so she just didn't do it. I don't remember not reaching a point where I couldn't get on top of a chair.

She said that as she got heavier, she found there were more things she couldn't do and fell into a depression. When she was depressed she had to think happy thoughts to get into a "tranquil frame of mind" just so she could eat, since she couldn't bring herself to eat when she was depressed. Me, I found I ate depressed or not. Happy? Sad? Morose? Angry? These enhanced eating. But it was time to eat at lunch time or dinner time or a snack time...so I ate.

She recounted eating half a dozen slices of toast with heaps of butter and grilled cheese by late morning, then a block of chocolate. She'd make tea and open a pack of biscuits (are they cookies in Australia? I'm not sure). She'd hide food from her kids so she wouldn't have to share. Me? I wasn't big on chocolates or candy. I ate lots of cheese...snacking on slices of cheese, maybe a peanut butter sandwich as a snack. Cookies if they were around. Mindless things that could be downed quickly. but not typically chocolate bars and lollipops.

She blamed fat- and sugar-laden foods in addition to the quantities that she ate. My only caution there is that there is plenty of research showing that fatty foods aren't necessarily horrible. It's how much you eat of them...so it's more likely that while she needed to vary her diet more, she was closer to the mark in saying that it was quantity that really was her problem. Calories are calories whether in fat and sugar or lean protein. Health is a totally different matter (even if you ate lean cuts of meat for your diet, eating just lean cuts of meat and nothing else will still adversely affect your health.)

She recounted deals she made with God to go on a diet if she survived her chest pains at night. Me? I don't remember chest pains when I weighed that much. In fact, I have them now periodically after losing nearly 200 pounds. Closest diagnosis I managed to find has been stress. I consciously stopped giving quite as much of a damn about some of the crap at work and much of the weird pains and chest aches have subsided. I still get them on occasion but it seems that after a couple tests with the doctors they aren't too concerned, or at least not concerned enough to keep testing. I do remember making "deals" with God, though, back when I was trying to believe in a God that cared enough to help. Obviously didn't help me in the formative years of my weight gain...maybe that was part of the reason I started more strongly questioning His existence. The answer I was given was that God helps those who help themselves, so I had to do the work. Well...then it's not Him helping me, is it? If I have to "help myself?" But that's a separate discussion. Point is that I remember making deals that never worked, and in the end I'd have to do it myself.

She said she couldn't walk far; checking for mail exhausted her. She had to wear ugly clothes because that's all that fit her. She had to wear bike shorts for underwear because that's all that fit, and they helped reduce chafing. She couldn't wear shoes because her ankles were swollen, and had to wear sandals. Hmm...I remember that yes, walking a distance was tiring, but I had to do it. I forced myself to do it, because if I couldn't make it from one end of the mall to the other (or at least as far as we needed to go to finish shopping for things) then I was admitting I was too fat. I remember going to the Renaissance Festival one year and feeling so very tired...I spent half the time wishing we were heading back to the car. I remember finding excuses to take the lazier shortcuts and procrastinating to do things that meant extra moving, but in the end I'd have to do it because...again...it was admitting I was simply too fat. I usually covered for this by complaining, griping, or moving just slow enough that I wasn't completely out of breath. People with me usually just wrote it off to me being a rude bastard and while I'm sure they made plenty of mental insults about me that would have been wrong to voice, they may not have ever stopped to think that my ornery disposition was in part a way of covering for the part that scared me; having to admit that I was a terminal fatass. Complaining and griping helped cover that part of my insecurity and redirected what I didn't have control over...my fat ass...to something I did have control over...the heat, the crowds, the prices, the disgusting bathrooms, and my vocal complaints about these things.

Ugly clothes? Yeah, I remember wearing what amounted to tents and sails. I was never one to give much of a damn about name-brand crap though. Maybe in part it stemmed from always wearing ugly clothes. Still, I don't care much about shopping at the Gap versus Walmart. I worry more about making sure my ass crack isn't on display, unlike the whorish outfits worn by teenagers now displaying their own full moons, whale tales and muffin tops overflowing.

She recounts sleeping in a chair because she thought she might choke from her weight on her throat if she laid down. Can't say I had that issue. I did develop a strong...VERY strong...snore. Came from obstructive sleep apnea. That leads to issues in itself that could easily take an entire post. After losing some weight, that largely went away. CPAP machines? No fun. Except it did let me make weird noises when I opened my mouth.

She broke several recliners that she used to sleep in, five chairs in ten years because they broke on her. Chairs, she said, were her worst enemy. Plastic chairs would break easily. She would have her son check out chairs if she were invited out to lunch; if she had to climb steps she wouldn't go, and if the the seats weren't solid wood without arms she wouldn't go. She was imposing restrictions on her life. For me, this was a creeping danger. I gradually had similar things happen and because they were gradual, it was far easier to accept. There were recliners that gradually fell apart...they were a few years old, they probably were in need of replacement anyway, etc...it wasn't just because I was too heavy for what they were designed to carry. I learned to avoid folding chairs. I literally get chest pains from anxiety when I have to sit in them. I slowly lower my arse into the chairs, constantly probing my balance to feel if one of the legs is about to give, even today. Plastic lawn chairs give me the same trepidation. I rarely sit in down unless I have to or there is a solid and sturdy chair available. I have trouble with chairs that have arms too. I hate them I hate them I hate them...and I always try to find seats without arms. Worse are the theater seats. I still don't completely fit them and constantly worry that they're going to break on me. Cars? I don't usually wear seatbelts because they went from being uncomfortable to just not fitting me at all; most people laugh or say that it's my own fault for being so fat that I have to find a car that I fit in instead of a car that suits me. The absolute worst thing for me now are cars that constantly alarm when they detect your ass in the chair without a seatbelt on. I have horrible memories of riding with my wife's father in his vehicle where it dinged until I could fit the clasp into the buckle. Again...anxiety attacks. I refuse to ride in his car anymore. I don't even like riding in other people's vehicles, period. At least in my car I can make the rules. There was one time that I remember breaking the seat in the car. I think my old jalopy I drive now has bent rails on which the seat is mounted, making it difficult to adjust. Don't tell my daughter, though. I imagine it's just an old car that has a finicky adjustment on it. She's just ding-batty enough not to put two and two together and realize the truth.

She said she was diagnosed a year and a half before she decided to lose weight with type two diabetes. Hey, I had that too! Had? I guess it's the sort of thing that doesn't go away...but still, I don't remember how long ago I was diagnosed. She said she continued to eat as she always did. I think I sort of modified my diet, but evidently it was just another item on the checklist (with dark fluid-filling ankles, hypertension, high cholesterol,...)

Her revelation came when she fell in the shower. She couldn't get up; she yelled for her son, who desperately needed her to get up again because the fire department would have to cut a wall to get her out. She started obsessing on how this was affecting her son; the harassment, humiliation, and publicity this would draw if they had to come in and do that just to get her back out of the shower. She described the huge effort it took, with pillows lining the tub, her son grabbing a kitchen chair in which he sat while she used it to lift herself up from an on-her-knees position in pain from the weight on her joints.  Okay...my recollection of the bathroom time is thus:
A) for guys, you lose sight of your anatomy. This makes peeing quite a chore due to lack of radar lock on the target. Fat guys, I know you know what I'm talking about. Leaning on the wall over the toilet helped with automatic aim. The rest of the time it was a matter of sitting to pee, which brought about two new sets of problems; seats that were too small for my diameter of butt, and constant fear of breaking the seat. It's happened. Whenever I saw broken seats, I wondered if I did it or not (and there are times where it honestly was not me).
B) I hated my wife's need for glass sliding doors on the shower. She took away the curtain, and voila'...I no longer fit in the shower. I still think she did it so she could have her own shower.
C) I despised, at the time, my wife's insistence on a jet tub. I think it's one more thing to break or have to maintain. However, this tub was big. The tub in the house where I grew up was a standard tub, and I barely fit in it anymore. Actually I could play in it by hitting the drain and letting water go down, only my tubbiness dammed the water behind me. In front of where I sat the water was gone. I'd have a full tub behind me. Then I'd lift my leg and have a flooding torrent of water rush to an equal level in the tub, and I'd pretend I was some great dam monster washing away a town in a valley. Tragic fun for self entertainment. The jet tub, though, was large. Much larger. As it happened I could only take baths at that point because this tub was actually big enough for me while I couldn't fit in the shower. The extra large two-person jet tub was actually large enough to let me sit.

Ah, the bathroom. The place where personal embarrassments are supposed to remain private whether you're fat or skinny.

Back to her story; she mentioned that people would speak slowly to her because the assumption is that if you're fat, you're stupid. She became rude so people would focus on her rude behavior instead of her weight, and she felt bad for what she imagined her kids went through. As for me, I'm sure that there were comments and rude thoughts tossed my way. I'm fairly sure part of my cynicism, my intolerance for stupidity, and several other vices were contributed to in some way by my weight. I had a thick skin develop (literally and figuratively) in large part from my weight level; I was insecure about my intelligence because I needed to be right. Being smart was my thing; I was a geek, a computer jock, at home in front of a keyboard or reading a book penned by Stephen Hawking instead of the football field, and by dammit I was good at those things. It made me fear failure (and thus makes my financial failings now, my debt, my realizations of missteps in life that lead me to worry about my debts now doubly difficult to take and cope with). I was fat but you were stupid compared to me and I was going to make sure I could claw myself above the majority of people academically because that's all I had. I defined myself by being the (unfortunately fat and) smart guy in the room. Downplay the fat, up-play the wits.

Complete strangers may think I'm a fat idiot. That's okay. Chances are that for the one reason you have to believe I'm an idiot, I've already found three or four reasons you shouldn't have been legally allowed to procreate and two reasons why you shouldn't be allowed to breath the same air as I was breathing. Yes, my mind honestly worked that fast when I caught you staring at my ginormous balloon shaped body.

What it came down to was that I couldn't control what you think. I had to learn not to mind it so much because I couldn't change my weight overnight, while most people around me were content to live in ignorance, which also didn't change overnight. It was a thought that comforted me.

In the end, she joined Weight Watchers and has lost 300+ pounds, according to this account. I had surgery and have changed many aspects of my eating behavior that has led me to a 190 pound weight loss so far with a painful several-weeks-old plateau in the 265 range and a nice dose of wallowing in a depression and whiplash from turning away from mirrors when I see my body with all the flapping loose skin.

Funny how many memories five pages in a $7 book can dredge up. I spent more time typing this entry than I did actually reading that epistle.

The next story in the book is about what it feels like to choke on a cheeseburger. Ironic?

Maintenance

I had the surgery 8 months ago. Doesn't seem that way...seems like a distant memory.

I was told that the surgery's effects will continue for a year to 18 months down the road. But seeing as it's the holidays...which can be a trying time for nerves as well as stomachs...I thought I'd reflect a little on the current state of maintenance.

As a note, I've lost about 190 pounds total. That was including the pre-surgery mandatory weight loss (the irony is still not lost on me). But for the past week or two I've been fighting a mean plateau that keeps me in the 265 pound range. The bad news is...still obese. The really bad news is...it's enough of a weight loss that I have a lot of sagging skin, making me feel like a basset hound and keeping me embarrassed enough to not show my arms (and stomach, but I normally don't show that off anyway) in public.

I keep to the same diet I've had for the most part. The big change I recently made was to cut most of my peanut butter consumption. See, I have a couple food vices, which have changed over time a little. For example I loved soft drinks. Diet Pepsi, diet orange soda, etc...the doctor said I couldn't have it anymore. Not if I had the surgery. No bubbly stuff.

Begrudgingly I gave them up.

Mini donuts and brownies? Rich, think, cakey brownies? Gone. Pumpkin pie? Gone.

Even my Chef Boyardee I last had as a puree' shortly after the surgery...not since.

Jiminy jilikers. This is getting depressing.

Two things I didn't really give up; cheese, and peanut butter.

The problem is that I slide the slippery slope. I liked peanut butter. I indulged in peanut butter. I had too much peanut butter. It's a high calorie "slider food" that when not careful will add to weight. I wondered if that contributed to my plateau.

So now I have salsa on my broccoli instead of PB.

Let me tell you I preferred it a LOT more the other way. But hey...if it means taking off more pounds, I need to cut back on it. I have a taste on a piece of it or two and that's it. But in the afternoon, I have a little bowl of broccoli with salsa.

Snacking? Yeah, I do that. Apples and bananas. More expensive, unfortunately, but it is more healthy and relatively lower in calories.

Cheese? I have 2% cheese. A couple slices on my meals. That comes to 100 calories per meal. When I look at my pre-packed lunch/breakfast/dinner, I have a tortilla from Azteca (190 calories), cheese (100 calories total), plus a couple slices of thin-shaved meat (turkey or ham) and either some tomato sauce or salad dressing rolled up with a little bit of mushroom to add bulk. So I'd roughly estimate...350 to 400 calories? 1200 a day from meals? Plus my apples and bananas I wouldn't be too surprised at a 1500 calorie to 1600 calorie day. I don't think that's horrible, but I'll have to wait and see what happens with the plateau now that I've cut out 90% of my PB intake.

I still exercise to cut (according to the computers) 300 to 500 calories or so. I haven't been to the gym as much lately; I have tried making up for it on my recumbent bike. I've had a lot of other things to do with the holidays and family and whatnot, so it's just been a pain, especially as the weather gets colder, I'm learning the ropes of a coal stove for the first time, and it's freakin' dark by the time I get home from work, making it harder to get my butt out there. Excuses? Yes, I know, but to a degree justified. If it were a top priority these excuses wouldn't stop me.

The truth is that I have trouble finding the motivation to go. I don't have a trainer. It's not exactly a bit hurrah to go to the gym; it's not a rockin' place. It's hot, sweaty, and I'm never sure if I'm doing anything right with the freeweights.

Pain. In. The. Butt.

That said, I do still go. It's just more of a drag for me than when it was sunnier during the late afternoon.

So that's my progress with maintenance. Stuck in a plateau, depressed at the holidays and riding a recumbent as I type this, about to check once more if the coal stove is getting up to temp after having to refill the coal bed. Quick note to self...coal fires really like big deep red-hot coal beds. Let it get too thinned out and it'll die quickly, heat and firewise. And that sucks.

Until next time...feel free to share your dieting stories for maintenance and challenges to that weight!

Exercise And TV

The diet-blog has an article about a Fun eXercise Bike, or FXB, for your Nintendo Wii. Basically it's an exercise bike that interfaces with video games, an example they cite on the Amazon site includes Mario Cart.

The Diet-Blog site blasts it because it's an "excuse to spend more hours in front of the TV screen in the name of exercise."  From the posting: "What ever happened to fresh air and riding real bikes outside? Why does every aspect of life need to be centered around the magic glowing box?"

I enjoy riding my bike outside. But I also enjoy my stationary bike, and have put far more miles on it. Why?

A) Weather. It's bloody cold out there right now. And the weather in here is pretty stable, thank you.
B) Hassle. I have to pack my bike to drive somewhere and ride it. There are hardly any bike trails in the area, and riding on the road guarantees that at some point I'm going to get hit.
C) Information. Stationary bikes are pretty good at tracking speed, distance, and probably aren't terribly off in their calories burned ratings. Pony up more money for a bike computer and get it set properly and you can get more information from your regular bike too, but it's still more hassle.
D) Maintenance. "Real" bikes take "real" maintenance. I don't remember having to clean and mend a chain on a stationary bike. Or clean it. Or scrape dog crap off the tires before putting it in the van.
E) Routine. I need routine. I crave routine. Biking outdoors means commitment to riding in rain, snow, sleet, wind, hail...unless you change that routine. Biking on a stationary bike? Not so much. I can count on my stationary bike being ready to go when I am. My regular bike needs to have tires checked, and the weather can't be in the 90's or in the 30's. Sorry, I'm just not that hard core.

So is there something wrong with this Wii bike? I don't think so. It's a way to encourage exercise, and it costs $99 while my regular "real" bike was around $400, and "real" bikes can easily run into the thousands (I'd love to try out a nice recumbent bike sometime...)

We live in an age where exercise is artificial. People in gyms are pumping hunks of iron, steel and aluminum and riding fake bikes and walking and running on treadmills that go nowhere. There are people who decide to get up and "go for a walk" to get exercise during the week.

In the past, people were "pumping" rocks and lumber and carrying crops and food for animals. They walked because it was the only way to get from the house to the store and back. People didn't set out to exercise. They didn't have a bloody choice in the matter.


It used to be that exercise was a side effect of trying to survive. Today it's a scheduled activity. Why complain about what form it comes in as long as you get the exercise?

Holiday Eating: Before and After

Wow...seems odd to see how the time and gone recently. It's been a very busy week and a half...two weeks? I can't even remember. Perhaps the word "hectic" is more apropos.

I have relatives come up to stay with us for several days over the Thanksgiving holiday. And then there was a family "Christmas dinner" this weekend, so relatives came and stayed with us for another weekend, and I'm well aware that with Xmas rapidly approaching we're going to have yet another round of playing "check off the list of crap to remember." For someone with my mental balance, both from Asperger's and stress, this is a trying time of the year.

But I thought maybe it would be a good idea to review some of the changes I've found since my surgery related to my diet. This time of year, the November/December Thanksgiving/Xmas seasons, are the hardest time for people with dieting issues. This is also a time where people tend to feel more able to shrug off their eating habits because come New Years, they can just promise themselves they'll work it off as yet another resolution. Stuff yourself with stuffing and turkey and gravy and ham and cake and pie and...the list goes on. Tis' the season, after all!

But it's not that way for me. To be clear, at this point in my surgery journey I could probably try a little of just about everything without much dire consequence. Because of my need for rigid routine, I don't normally indulge in such things. I stick to my favorite routine meals; wraps containing some turkey and ham with mushrooms and cheese are my biggest staples, along with my peanut butter on broccoli. I had a modified wrap for Thanksgiving; I put some stuffing in the wrap instead of mushrooms. It was a holiday indulgence.

What was Thanksgiving like before? I'll admit I missed it. I wanted to have huge helpings of stuffing, my favorite holiday treat. I wanted a slab of turkey, the double portion of pumpkin pie (a favorite of all time on my personal list of awesomeness!), and even topping it all off with that so-disgusting-it's-yummy gel-blob cranberry sauce. Mashed potatoes? Pile it on, along with a squirt of ketchup. Yes, I think it tastes good. Leave me alone.

Ooh! Is that a basket of soft, ooey-gooey fresh from oven rolls? Pass the butter! And I'll have a liter of Diet Pepsi, please. And another roll. Corn Pudding!? YES! I'll have a spoonful or three, thank you.

It sounds like so much now. Maybe it was. But it was Thanksgiving and I enjoyed the hell out of it.

This year? I smelled the aromas and indulged only in some stuffing. I had that stuffing in a single serving of a wrap rolled with a couple thin slices of turkey (from a box of turkey bought at Sam's Club, not the bird carved on the counter) and a slice of cheese.

Yesterday was a family dinner from someone on my wife's side of the family. We traveled two hours to have a get together in a Masonic Hall where there were wonderful smelling cakes and pies, meatballs of various kinds (I love...loved...those things). All sorts of little goodies.

What did I have? a standard wrap from my recipe box and a lot of the broccoli, apple slices, baby carrots and cheese cubes. I even went out for a walk during the dinner to see what the town was like because I wouldn't have enough time to go to the gym and I was feeling antsy to work off some of the calories. Did I overeat? Probably to some degree, with the cheese. Nothing hurt. Nothing "backed up" or made me ill in some way. But I did have more cheese than I should have and I tried to make up for it.

Now we'll have a slew of Xmas dinners coming up.

So if you're a bariatric patient or prospective patient, how will things change? This is my first set of holidays with a "new digestive system", and I am more nontraditional in that I avoid trying all sorts of foods most of the time. I opt instead to keep a fairly routine diet that helps establish a routine, so your mileage may very if you do this. I can only tell you what has happened to me and how my choices have affected me.

These dinners were hard. I'm not a sociable person; I find personal interactions to be hard to cope with and seriously tiresome. But the one thing I did share with everyone was the communal meal experience. This year I had my wrap, finished it in five minutes, and got to watch everyone else slurping down their taters' and turkey. I smelled the stuffing. I watched my son slurping down little meatballs sliced in half, dripping in that delicious sauce that they bubble and glurp in the crock pot for hours.

It wasn't easy. And it makes me feel more of an outsider.

I did get some benefits. For example, I went to work the next day with a small container of mashed sweet potato and a cut up banana for breakfast. It was a change of pace that tasted very good (sweet potato has a wonderful ability to taste an awful lot like pumpkin pie filling when done properly).

Previous years would have been meals filled with multiple servings of mashed potato, stuffing, and rolls. Impulse grabbing of yummy goods. This year the closest I had to impulse grabbing were some cheese cubes and stuff from the vegetable and fruit trays.

Last year would have been a lot of lounging. Watch TV, eat more, snack...have pie. Lots of pie. This year was some TV, small wrap for Thanksgiving dinner, and at the Xmas dinner I had my wrap, too much cheese and broccoli, and then went for a walk. On the way home my wife and her family went to Kohls to feed their shopping habits while I went out on an excursion by foot to get more exercise (I was too narrowly focused to have found the crosswalks to get to the Wegman's to find some broccoli I needed at home, or a Sam's Club to find better deals on broccoli). I must have walked at least a mile, maybe two, altogether that day. Last year I'd never have considered trying to get some exercise in to help compensate for a meal.

I don't know if I did well or poorly in terms of not gaining the pounds. Lately I've been plateaued around the 265 mark, meaning I lost around 195 pounds. My feeling on how these dinners went...I have not been obsessing over the meals, so I take that as a knee-jerk evaluation that I didn't do horrible in my indulgences. Mentally I feel as if I were left out of some things and I truly have missed being able to dig in to a giant plate of food. Part of me wanted that old habit back. On the other hand, the big scar on my abdomen reminds me that doing that will leave me seriously ill and/or in pain.

So I have my wrap and I try to focus on other things to take my mind off the ooey gooey goodness that I am no longer allowed to indulge in. My impulse eating is limited to fruits and vegetables and some occasional cheese cubes. No dressing/dip though. Might have something in them that could make me ill.

Anyone else have similar dieting experiences in these times of holiday mirth and gluttony?