Decisions, decisions, decisions...

Let's cut to the chase - the doctor says I don't qualify for the LapBand surgery because I have too much weight to lose, that if anything, I'd have to go for the gastric bypass or Roux-en-Y gastric bypass. This makes me nervous, but at the same time, it can't hurt to take the referral and talk to the surgeon, right? Talking to the surgeon, asking questions, and gathering information doesn't lock me into anything. I'm not signing a contract by just sitting down and talking to someone.

I go to see the doctor tomorrow for 3-month check-up/talk about the blood sugar levels/get prescription refills visit (blood work only at every 6-month check-up, hurray). I'm a little nervous about talking to him about the LapBand surgery... I don't know why, but I am.

I was diagnosed with the Type II diabetes (non-insulin dependent) five and a half years ago in August 2002; my how time does fly. I exercised, ate right, got the blood sugar levels under control, and in eight months lost 80 pounds. I was at church one Sunday morning, and a woman I've known all my life - mom to kids around both my and brother's ages - said to me, "Oh Ruth! If you keep losing all this weight and get skinny, you just won't be you anymore!"

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

I wasn't quite sure how to respond to her. I think I said something like, "You don't have to worry about me wasting away, Mrs. Robinson..." That just ranks right up there with "But she has such a pretty face" and my great-grandmother's favorite "She'd be so much prettier if she'd reduce".

I just feel the need to make it clear... when I was younger, losing weight was about liking myself and being attractive. Let's face it - boys don't ask the fat girls out on dates. When you ask a boy what he thinks about a fat girl, he'll tell you she's like his sister - someone he can really talk to. Somewhere along the line, though, I stopped worrying about what people thought about me. I am me, take me or leave me. If you don't like me, well then, I'm only one person and I can't be all things to all people, now can I? Losing weight now is about getting healthy. Losing weight now is about making sure I'm alive to see my son graduate from high school. Losing weight now is about saving literally thousands of dollars a year on medications. Losing weight now is about getting enjoyment out of taking my son to the park to run and play. If only I'd come to this realization before the age of 38! In the past, when I thought about 'weight-loss' surgery, I'd instantly feel like a loser for even considering it. Now when I think about it, it feels like the right decision.

As a co-worker said when we were talking about it last week, being hot after the surgery and resulting weight-loss is just a bonus.

So... I've been doing a lot of thinking...

I know, I know... you immediately think, "God help us all, nothing good can come of this."

Whatever.

So I've been doing a lot of thinking, and a lot of contemplating, and a lot of weighing the good against the bad, the pros and the cons, and all that, and I think I've come to the conclusion that, when I go to the doctor at the end of this month, for my regular every-three-months-blood sugar-check up-get refills-appointment, I'm going to talk to him about having the LapBand surgery (Short version of my opinion on this - I would never have gastric bypass, which permanently alters the size of the stomach and all that, but the LapBand, to me, seems like an alternative that I could live with. The recovery time is short, and it's covered at 90% by my insurance [Yes, I've already checked.]). I realize this is in direct contradiction to the fat girl post from some months back, but here's the thing: I've reached the point.

Am I throwing my beliefs to the wind? Probably. Do I care? Not really. I waffled a little after the fat girl post, and got myself all fired-up to get healthy. We bought the elliptical at Sear's and got it all set up. Remember my impressive string of 30-45 minutes/day, 5 days/week for three months on the elliptical last summer? This resulted in a total weight-loss of - are you ready? - 4 pounds. Yes, I went for my regular appointment last August, all ready for a triumph on the scales, and found that I'd lost

FOUR

FUCKING

POUNDS.

Talk about taking the wind out of my sails. Honestly, I have not really been able to motivate myself since. I mean think about it... I ate right and sweated my ass off, and lost only four pounds. At that rate, it would take me about... FOREVER to lose the amount of weight I need to lose, to get off all, or at least most, of the medicine I'm taking for the diabetes (most notably the insulin). I think the insulin is what's causing me the grief, because (as we've discussed before) although it helps control the blood sugar, as a hormone it leads to weight gain. The doctor, though, is unwilling to take me off of it, or even lower the dosage until I've lost some weight, because of the negative impact it would have on my blood sugar levels. So really, then, what am I supposed to do?

I mean really? What am I supposed to do? Tell me, and I'll do it. I tried Weight Watchers for a while with Right-Wing Conservative Girl (RWCG) - that was a nightmare. Our desks were across from each other, separated by a cubicle wall. If I had an afternoon snack, I'd chew slowly and quietly, so she wouldn't hear me, because if she heard me she'd say 'Ruth, are you eating? What are you eating? How many points is it worth?' Good Lord!!

A personal trainer would be phenomenal, but I don't have the money for that. Jenny Craig is way to expensive, and even if it weren't, the commercials are absolutely too irritating for words. What is it with the girl that felt compelled to go from a size 10 to a size 4. When did being a size 10 become unacceptable? Good God! I'd kill someone to be a size 10.

But back to me - I am desperate. I am miserable. I am 38 years old and I feel like I'm running out of time when it comes to this. I skimmed the recent article in People magazine about the girls that lost bazillions of pounds all on their own, and that's wonderful. But I hereby officially give up. I give in. I admit defeat. I want to feel good about myself. I don't want to groan inwardly when my son wants to go play in the yard, or at the park, because it takes to much energy (and I'd rather be parked on the couch watching 'Law & Order: Criminal Intent or SVU reruns on USA).

I want to not continue taking 3 shots and 5 pills everyday to control my blood sugar levels.

Bottom line: I want to feel normal.

Well, my version of normal, anyway.

So there you have it.

That's my decision.

Right or wrong.

Good or bad.

There it is.

Another week at the Casa de Insurance

Monday's suck.

Is the mini-van included in the registration fee, or do I have to pay for that separately?

We had the boy's first parent/teacher conference week before last.

Who knew they did parent/teacher conferences in preschool?

You know me - if I don't have something to worry about, I don't know what to do with myself. And since they scheduled the conferences about three weeks or so in advance, I was practically beside myself when it was time to actually go in and talk to the teacher. I know... I am off-the-charts neurotic about everything when it comes to having a child - What if the other kids think he's weird? What if she says he's mildly autistic? What if someone snatches him when we're at the park? What if we find out he has some horrible disease? What if he gets hit by a car? Kids are such a crap shoot. He's only 4, but there's so much out there it scares the hell out of me. I was reading a news story online at work yesterday about this choking game that kids are playing, and how more and more deaths are being attributed to it, and I almost threw up. It's a wonder I let him out of the house at all.

Anywhoo...

The conference was good. His teacher is absolutely wonderful; one of those teachers you wish they could have all the way through school. She confirmed that, of course, he's a genius. Before he even started preschool, he recognized the letters of the alphabet and (if he was in the right mood) could count up to 29.

Side note here: You may be asking yourself why 29, because that seems like such an arbitrary number? He gets to 29, pauses to think for a few seconds, then continues on "twenty-ten, twenty-eleven, twenty-twelve..." Hey - you've got to give a 3-4 year old credit for using logic like that.

Back to the conference - he needs to practice cutting with scissors, as this is apparently am important skill that develops the muscles and coordination needed to learn how to write. Again, who knew?!? I have reservations about giving anything that can cut to my sometimes-hyper 4-year-old. We sat down to practice the other night with our newly-purchased blunt-tipped scissors, and two minutes in he was asking if he could cut my hair. Need I say more?

But we'll work on it. He's most definitely exhibiting signs of being a lefty (you're welcome, Lori!), which is cool because we all know southpaw pitchers are worth more when it comes to the major league baseball contracts.

The other major area that he needs development in are the socialization skills. This wasn't a shock. He's never been in daycare. There aren't any kids his age in our neighborhood. If he was maybe 7 years older he'd be in luck, although the kids I see running around often look suspicious to me, so I'm not sure I'd let him out of the house with them even if he was the same age. His cousins are older and don't live close, and there are no plans for any brothers and/or sisters... other than church once a week (say 2-3 Sundays a month), preschool is his first real exposure to other kids his age. He's as excited as he can be to be around the kids in his class, but he's awkward when it comes to actually relating to them. He's still trying to get his mind around the concept of using words to talk to them, instead of just going up and hugging or trying to tickle them... here we go... mommy neurosis in overdrive... they're going to think he's weird...

We were talking to the teacher about ways and places to get him around other kids more, when the teacher dropped the dreaded word. Are you ready for it?

Soccer.

"I know the city has a soccer league that plays in the Fall, and I think the YMCA has a league that plays in the Spring."

Sports are inevitable these days, I suppose, and really that's fine. Obviously the exercise is good, and learning how to be part of a team, and all that. Somewhere in the backs of our minds, the husband and I were kind of hoping to avoid organized team sports, as neither one of us is athletic at all, but what can you do?

So, starting mid-April, I will be a soccer mom. Granted, at this age (according to the teacher) it's not so much a group of kids playing soccer as it is a group of kids running up and down the field in a clump. I'm just having trouble getting my head around it. Soccer, if I remember correctly, was just really starting to gain its popularity here when I was in high school in the late 80's, and in college in the early 90's. The soccer players and their families, at least the ones I knew, were... (that dreaded word from the 80's) preppie, which I, most definitely, was not and am still not today. I have no understanding of the game, other than kick the ball down the field into the net-thingy (is there more to it than that?). I have more bad-hair days than good ones. I don't own pearls, and I've never owned an Izod anything. I'm not very good at small-talk, so I tend to be quiet around people I don't know, which I'm sure gives people the impression that I'm either weird or stuck-up.

And the thought of my boy in a little uniform almost breaks my heart, because it means he's growing up, which we all know is really what all this is about.

Oh what an adventure this will be...

WARNING: Adult content (well, bad language that's been bleeped, concerning adult themes)

Saw this over at Pax's place, and it was absolutely too good not to pull from You Tube and share here...

Hope you all are having a good Saturday. I hope to post something interesting this weekend.

Enjoy!