And I go back to black.
In my last entry, my darling phizhy made this comment:
Abby, congratulations on all the hard work you've put on your job, it's so nice to read you be so happy. Can I say something that might be out of line (you can tell me to sit the eff down if you want) but lately I've been worrying about the way you look at surgery. Rather than looking at this as something that will just make you look hot(er) & thin, think of it as a lifesaving thing. The physical aspects of it are merely secondary & I worry that you are placing unreal expectations on it but only because I love you tons :) & yes, you can get angry at me & tell me it's not my place.
Well, Phizhy, I owe you one, because it's really only a true friend that calls you on your bullshit. You're right. I've been putting out the absolutely wrong way to view surgery - because it's all about me looking good to all of you. One of the reasons I'm so in love with Heidi (along with everyone else) is because she's so fucking real about her struggles with her weight and is open and honest. So, the truth is, I'm terrified that I'm going to die young because I'm so fat. I went to get some pre-op bloodwork done yesterday and the doctor showed me a graph of my weight from 2002 until now.
The last year I was living in England, I got down to 199. I was also doing a lot of coke and ecstasy and working out. I moved to NYC with Ginger - and boom, severe depression and fear. Got off the coke - and ballooned to 240. Fast-forward to Ginger and I breaking up in 2004 and I shoot up again to 260 - because I've also started using prescription pills heavily and binge drinking. I get clean - and go up again to a huge and whopping 290 pounds.
There. I said it.
I eat shit. Total shit. I'm so busy and crazy that I never eat healthy. Every meal is out...and I eat total junk. Check out my daily meal:
Breakfast - toasted bagel with butter, coffee
Lunch - usually skipped, but more coffee, no water. If I eat lunch, it's thai food - beef pad thai, the worst you can eat.
Dinner - More shit. My favorite "I work so hard I deserve this" meal is mozzarella sticks, a cheeseburger, and fries. And when I'm done, I usually try and throw it all up, but that rarely works. So I sit there and hate myself.
Yesterday, the doctor told me that I have to start dieting BEFORE the two-week prior liquid diet. So today, I had one of those "on-the-go" cereal packets of some icky healthy cereal. I had salad with lots of protein for lunch. Ruined it by eating a cream puff from the Japanese cream puff place next door for a co-worker's birthday, but am eating chicken and salad for dinner tonight.
I was on a conference call with Pedro and Gregg last night and Pedro told me about a friend of his who I know slightly - she had Lap Band two years ago, but cheats all the time and has lost maybe only 50 pounds. They were at a BBQ place in the city last weekend and she kept trying to eat BBQ ribs. Not good on the Band. It got stuck in the opening, she started choking, they had to do the Heimlich on her, and she threw everything up right on her plate.
THAT IS NOT GOING TO BE ME. I AM NOT GOING TO WASTE MY LIFE CHEATING!
The Boss and my therapist both say that when I want something, I become scarily focused. Seeing the scale at 290 freaked me the fuck out. That is just an unreal huge number. That's a death sentence.
So. I have 140 pounds to lose. My legs hurt all the time, I'm exhausted walking, and I haven't seen any of my friends lately because I hate how huge I am. But this is it. I see the surgeon tomorrow. I'm moving forward with this. I refuse to die because I like French Fries too much.
This has all been building up. I don't talk about this part of the surgery. Ellen is in major breakdown mode and I haven't talked to her in nearly a month now. Last night, we had a Board meeting and the Board gave us a champagne toast. The Boss bought me non-alcoholic champagne and the Chair started making fun of me for not drinking. (This from a man who was so wasted at the Event that he spent $25,000 on auction items and now has to work out a payment plan!) I was ashamed. I felt like a loser. I hissed to the Boss, "See? I'm such a boring nerd." But as she pointed out, he's the one who looked idiotic for making fun of me. I don't drink. End of story. Respect me, bitches.
But in the meantime - I'm just really depressed about being so fucking fat. I am going to do this surgery - and for the right goddamn reasons.
Respect me, bitches!
What I'm reading: In Touch magazine. Britney, Lindsay, Katie, Heidi and other great figures of this century.