AnneLyze

In December, while shopping for Christmas presents, I saw a pin in the shape of a woman swimming.  I wanted to buy it, but instead I returned to my car and cried in shame.  I was not deserving of wearing that pin.  Swimgirl was no longer. I've been writing under Swimgirl since the start of my Blog and using it as my email address for even longer.  I thought I would swim for the rest of my life when I started using it and then one day I stopped swimming.  I kept thinking I would swim the next day or the next Sunday or whatever, but I never made it and days became months and finally one year had passed.  It was no longer in my plans for the day and my swim bag was put away still fully packed.  Swimgirl existed in name only. And when I gained 80lbs, my shame was complete. I couldn't go back. I've begun exercising again as part of my gastric bypass journey.  The first time I got back into the pool, everything that I feared and had kept me from swi...

Ben had a couple of friends sleep over last night.  I fell asleep to a chorus of chatter and laughter.  They are still asleep this morning right in the same spots where I left them, Jah-heem on the couch and Ben and Butoto in the matching recliners.  The only one who looks the least bit comfortable is Jah-heem.  But they are all sleeping like babies, babies in lanky, long teenaged bodies.  I’m missing my recliner and the Today show, but it’s nice and quiet right now, so I let them sleep.  Soon they will be ravaging the pantry looking for food. I hated sleepovers as a kid.  I didn’t want anyone to stay over nor did I want to sleep at any one else’s house.  One sleepover from childhood haunts me to this day.  I can still picture the big brass bed, feel the glide of the green sateen sheets as my body moved against them, my scaly feet catching on the cheap fabric, and feel the utter terror I felt that night.   I keep thinking if I...

I was prepared not to like Dr Lamansky. People had told me a lot about him, much of it negative. I had been forewarned that he was cocky, a pompous ass, and overly sure of himself. But I dealt with doctors like him every day and I was prepared to do what I had to do to get clearance for my surgery. I tried not to let my nerves and irritation get to me as I waited to see him, tapping my foot and rifling through magazine after magazine. Two hours after my appointment time, my name was called. He entered the room without knocking. "What do you want?" "I'm here for nutritional support and clearance for my gastric bypass." "What kind?" "The gastric sleeve" "Good" After that brief exchange, our relationship was set. He asked the questions and I answered them as best I could before he asked the next, frequently interrupting and not waiting for my answer. Clearly he was not interested in the emotional hold that food has on...

“Are you an emotional eater?” asked one of my co-workers at lunch last week. Trying to deflect the conversation off my weight and eating habits, I glibly answered, “I’m an everything eater”. Laughter followed just as I had hoped. But it’s true I am an everything eater, as well as a grazer of snacks, a connoisseur of ice cream, a lover of chocolate, and a yo-yo dieter. My relationship with food is complex, convoluted, and totally unhealthy. I eat whether I’m hunger or not. Every emotion I feel, every experience I have is always in a partnership with food either as a reward, a punishment or as a numbing agent. I think about it every waking minute. I either adhere to a strict set of food rules or I lose myself in the endless disconnect that food provides me. Part of my bypass experience has got to incorporate my feelings about myself and what food brings to my life. Food is more than just the joy of eating something delicious, it is my drug of choice and it's time to let it go. Si...