24 Fig Newtons and 8 Biscuits Later

I mailed my bariatric surgery packet out yesterday. It was quite a bit of information to put down. They asked for all types of information, especially the number of diets I’ve been on in the past, weight lost, weight gained, and a two-day food diary. Now it’s just a matter of time before the surgeon’s office calls and schedules my first appointment.

Filling out the paper work isn’t so much fun, but it was a good exercise. I learned that there is another food that I just can’t have around the house, even if they are the whole wheat variety: Fig Newtons. I was fooling myself, thinking that because I was buying the whole wheat kind, that they were healthy. Healthier – maybe – but still not something that I need to eat. In that two-day period where I had to record my food intake, I had 24 of the little devils and seeing how they have sugar, I can not imagine that my doctor would approve. The nutritionist and behavior therapist at the bariatic clinic will not care for the fact that I also ate four biscuits for breakfast. I do not do well when I am home alone for Spring Break. It’s better not to have some things around during those times. I told my wife that my days of Fig Newtons are done and asked her to be sure and not buy them when she goes to the store. I won’t either. I will not tell you what else I ate, but I will say that it could have been much better.

The Results of the Bariatric Surgery Seminar

It has begun. I am on the road toward bariatric surgery, which will assist me in reducing or eliminating many of the complications that I have incurred as a result of my weight: diabetes, sleep apnea, high blood pressure, and cholesterol. I’m tired of watching my body and health deteriorate because of my life-long problems with food. Despite the fact that I have tried to lose weight since I was a child, those attempts have resulted in short-term weight loss and long-term weight gain every time. I feel hungry and I shamefully feel powerless against the pangs to gorge.

On Saturday the surgeon held a bariatric surgery seminar, which is the first step in the process. He presented the information on both the gastric bypass surgery (called Roux-en-Y) and the lap band surgery. Both, according to Christopher Edwards, M.D. are good surgeries with excellent results. The lap band, however, is quickly becoming the surgery of choice because of the lower rate of complications and the ability to adjust the restriction of food. I am going to summarize my understanding of the information presented at the seminar to give a better understanding of why I am choosing one procedure over the other.

ROUX-EN-Y VERSUS LAP BAND

ROUX-EN-Y (Gastric Bypass)
Weight Loss: Slightly Higher and faster
Complications: More
Risks: Higher
Procedure: Laparoscopic but more invasive
Hospital Stay: Day or Two
Deficiency: Calcium, B12 and Protein
Adjustable/Reversible: No
Dumping: Yes
Pros: Higher weight gain and more long-term studies.
Cons: There are more complications, side effects and it is not reversible or adjustable. With gastric bypass, you can stretch out the egg-sized pouch and then you taken in more calories than you should. This is common after several years so the patient must be diligent in sticking to the strict dietary requirements or the weight may come back.

LAP BAND
Weight Loss: Slightly Less (55-62 percent) and slower
Complications: Less
Risks: Lower
Procedure: Laparoscopic and less invasive
Hospital Stay: Outpatient
Deficiency: Protein. Must take a multi-vitamin
Adjustable/Reversible: Yes
Dumping: No
Pros: It is reversible and adjustable. The surgery is less invasive and there are fewer side effects and complications. The egg-shaped pouch tends not to get stretched because with lap band, when you eat too much, then your body tends to vomit it back up rather than overstretching the pouch. Your stomach and intestines are not surgically altered for life.
Cons: There is slightly less weight loss associated with the band. Too much vomiting can cause band slippage requiring a surgical procedure.



DIETARY REQUIREMENTS
Calories Per Day (up to six months): 600 calories per day
Calories Per day (6 months-life): 1,000-1,500 calories per day
There are strict dietary requirements in the weeks and months after the surgery. I don’t know those details, but I will be presenting them when I find out. I do know that the diet consists of higher intakes of protein.

HOW DOES LAP BAND WORK?

A silicone band is placed around the top of the stomach, creating two stomach pouches. The pouch at the top is about the size of an egg and the opening into the larger pouch is about the size of a dime. When the person eats, the food sits in the pouch. This does two things. First, it fills the pouch and then the pouch sends signals to the brain that the stomach is completely full. Patients report that they feel full. The second thing this does is allows the food to sit in the small pouch and trickle into the larger portion of the stomach. By doing so, a person’s feelings of being full last longer. The rest of the body digests and works as it always has. There is no poor absorption of vitamins and nutrients (as with gastric bypass). There is just a restriction of food.

The band itself, when around the stomach, does not restrict food. The lap band has a cord attached to a port. The port is located under the skin on your left side. The surgeon sticks a needle into the skin and port and fills it with saline. This blows up a balloon on the inside of the band and causes the restriction. This can be adjusted as needed throughout the patient’s life.



IF YOU STILL EAT LESS, WHY DON’T YOU JUST DIET AND EXERCISE?
That is a good question and one that I have asked myself. Why do I need surgery? Why don’t I just hire a personal trainer and eat more healthy foods and smaller amounts. That is the natural way. I can’t argue with that logic. I can just tell you that I have tried that with no long-term success. My hunger eventually overtakes me and I am right back where I was, or worse, I end up heavier.

The way the lap band works is to trick your body into feeling full on only a small amount of food. True, a person will lose some weight by eating less, but as the question above states, it is more than that. The surgery does not fix a sedentary lifestyle nor does it replace proper nutrition and exercise. The surgery is not it. The entire process requires a change of thought and attitude – of lifestyle – in order to achieve real success. That is the hard part and it involves will power and determination just like a typical diet. The difference is that the person feels full after lap band surgery and does not have to deal with always feeling hungry.



ISSUES RESOLVED WITH BARIATRIC SURGERY
The following numbers from my surgeon’s presentation, are the numbers of people who report they no longer have issues with the condition.

• Type 2 Diabetes: 95%
• Hypertension: 92%
• Cardiac Function: 95%
• Sleep Apnea: 75%
• Stress Incontinence: 87%
• GERD 98%
• Cholesterol 97%

PSYCHOLOGICAL SIDE EFFECTS FROM BARIATRIC SURGERY
(This piece of information has come from Internet sources and from the presentation)
Bariatric surgery is not all good. There are issues that come up after these procedures. Psychological factors arise that people do not realize or are not ready for. Cases of divorce and suicide have occurred as a result of the surgery. Divorce can happen for several reasons. The patient may lose weight and start getting attention from interested parties that they are not used to. This can lead to adultery. If both spouses are overweight and only one gets the surgery, then there can be jealousy on the part of the one who is not losing weight. If a marriage was rocky to begin with, then the weight loss will not fix the martial problems and can increase them.

There have also been cases where people have been unable to deal with their new body. Their friends and family may treat them differently, they may get divorced and they may feel all alone, leading them to suicide. These issues cannot be dismissed out of hand, but must be considered carefully.

The surgeon stressed that family supports are the most important factor in this process. The surgery, he said, is very easy. The hard part comes afterwards and a person must be in a supportive family unit in order to see success and be healthy and happy afterwards. In my case, my wife and I have a remarkable, loving and trusting relationship. We are not cheaters, either one, and neither of us are jealous. I don’t think these will be issues for us, but they are things to consider.


FAMILY SUPPORT
Besides my wife and daughter, my parents are supportive of this decision. My friends and I have only talked briefly, but I think they too will be supportive. There is a difference between support and concern. My wife and parents are especially concerned about the surgery and the after affects. They are scared that I will die, have complications, or that everything will change. I know my wife is struggling (I write this with her permission) with the fact that I will be a new person. I will have a new body, a new degree, and a new job. She is scared that she will be with a completely new guy. She also worried that the new me will not like the old her. She is also slightly overweight and she worries that I will not be attracted to her any longer. It is a fair concern and I would expect anyone to be fearful. Change is very scary. My role in all of this is to reassure her that my physical change does not affect my emotional connection with her. She is my soul mate and I love her very much. She loves me fat or skinny and I love her fat or skinny.

My family will need outside support and they will need support from me. I will have to remember that this is a hard process for them as well and that I am not the only one struggling. And this will be a struggle. The surgeon made no bones about the fact that this is hard. The surgery does not make this easy. A quick Google search will tell you that. The surgery is the easy part. It is after the surgery that the work begins.



THE LAP BAND CHOICE
I am choosing the lap band for several reasons. The sense of feeling full on an amount the size of an egg is probably the most appealing to me. The fact that it is less invasive, adjustable and reversible appeals to me. Not that I want it reversed. I don’t. Let’s say a patient with the lap band, God forbid, gets cancer. The person will need to be able to get more nutrients during chemotherapy. During an office visit, the surgeon takes out saline so you can intake more food. It takes all of five minutes in the office. Same thing for a woman who has a lap band and then gets pregnant. The surgery is done under general anesthesia but it is outpatient surgery. Most people go home that day.



NOW WHAT?
There is a strict procedure and requirements to follow in order to be considered for bariatric surgery. Because of my weight and other issues I am eligible for the surgery. Now I must go through the process, which is as follows:

1. Attend the bariatric surgery seminar
2. Fill out the paperwork
3. Office visit with the surgeon
4. Office visit with the nurse coordinator
5. Nutritional evaluation
6. Behavioral therapy evaluation
7. Psychological evaluation
8. Rehab exercise evaluation
9. Submit request to the insurance company
10. Schedule surgery

DISCLAIMER
I am not a member of any medical field – not a doctor, nurse or anything else. The information presented here should not be used to for any kind of medical decision. It is presented here strictly to help my family and friends understand my decision and help give them an idea of what is going on, why I choose the lap band over the Roux-En-Y, and to help them make sense of what is going on with me. Always consult a physician and don’t quote me.

Insulin Makes for One Hungry Jack

My doctor warned me that moving to insulin might make me hungrier. That is an unfortunate side effect. That is just so crazy. Most folks on insulin are overweight to begin with. Not all diabetics are fat, mind you, but many are. So you don’t lose weight and your diabetes progresses to the point that you have to supplement your oral medications with insulin or you have to go to insulin altogether. It makes you feel very hungry so you eat more, gain weight and require more insulin. It is insanity I tell you. Insanity.

So not only do I have problems with overeating, but now I have a medication that makes me hungrier. What the Hell am I supposed to do about that? Well, I’ve already talked about what I am planning on doing, but it sucks that the meds I need to take make me more unhealthy.

And He's Off …

The wheels are turning toward the weight loss surgery. I called the surgeon today, as promised, and registered for the bariatric surgery informational seminar. It’s this week, which is faster than I anticipated. It works out well though. We were planning on going out of town this weekend to see my parents. My sister et al from Tulsa were coming to the parental nest this weekend and we were going to join them. Still will, but we will be a bit later than expected. It will give us time to talk with my family about this.

Fortunately for me, my family – wife, mother, father, sister, and brother-in-law – are supportive of me seriously considering this option. Not pushing and not pulling, they are encouraging me to seek out as much information as possible and find routes that will help me lose weight in a positive. They aren’t too keen on burying me within the next 10 years. Me neither as far as that goes. My family has reservations too. They are nervous about the surgery and the side effects or complications that can arise. Me too. I think my wife is probably the most nervous and the most supportive all at one time. I think she will need her own set of support, as this will affect her just as much as it affects me. She will, after all, have to life with me after all of this is over. She needs all the good thoughts, positive energy and prayers that she can get to put up with me.

After my Saturday educational seminar, I can go to my parents’ home and talk with everyone about what I have learned. I think I’ve pretty much made my mind up already. I say “pretty much” but in my head I know this is what I want – have – to do. So it’s merely a procedural thing for me to go to the seminar. I am ready to make the plunge.

Damn Those Girl Scouts!

My daughter joined Girl Scouts this year and she is excited to get her first badge for selling cookies. She had to sell 50 boxes to get the badge and she met her goal, which is very exciting for her. It’s just murder for me though. BIG men and Girl Scout cookies don’t go well together. My wife was smart and hid them from me. I get one serving per day, which works out to four Think Mints (which are the best), two Lemonades, or two Peanut Butter Patties (both of which are quality cookies).

Everywhere I go I have reminders of Girl Scout cookies: church, home, my daughter’s school – they are everywhere, permeating my brain and begging me to eat them. Truth be told I shouldn’t be eating any of them, but I can justify one serving per day. If I had my druthers, I would not have any in the house at all. It’s just easier that way, but I have to support my daughter. Supporting her does not equate into my eating cookies, but I just can’t stay out of them. So we compromise with one serving per day. Since I don’t know where they are, then it works out okay. I have managed not to search the house for them.

And what of the hypocrisy of this post in conjunction with the preceding one? All I can say is that I am a messed up dude and I need some serious help and soon.

It's Time To Get Off The Pot

Come Monday I am going to initiate the bariatric surgery process. My diabetes is increasingly progressing and because of that my doctor started me on a one-daily insulin shot. That didn’t come as a shock exactly, but it was a powerful shot to the emotions. To move from oral medications to the dreaded I-word, the shot … insulin … is a big deal. It just sends a reality signal that diabetes is a progressive diagnosis and something must be done.

My friend Paul, who does not know about my insulin yet, called me this weekend right after I got my new prescription. He wants us to start a drastic workout regimen where we train for and run in a half marathon by November. I am 320 pounds and have never ran. I hate running, actually. So this is a big change. He used to run, but is now a BIG guy like me. This whole running business is not necessarily a bad idea in theory, but I’m not sure that running is the thing that we should be doing. It’s hard on the body -- the knees, the back – and as heavy as he and I both are, I just don’t see that as a viable option.

I hurt my ribs about a year ago in Karate and they haven’t healed back yet. Diabetics heal slower than other people. Running will surely aggravate that problem much more. I’m just now getting those pesky ribs to quit hurting as much as they used to and I don’t need any setbacks. Paul is pushing me pretty hard to get on board with this running scheme, his word not mine. Maybe in time, but right now it does not seem like such a good idea. I can’t even walk the treadmill right now with my ribs the way they are. I don’t really know how I can start running.

With the introduction of insulin injections, I have come to realize that my methods, such as they are, are not working. I can’t see the light and I don’t know what else to do. Tomorrow I am calling the surgery clinic and starting the application process. I sign up to attend the informational seminar and learn more about bariatric surgery: gastric bypass and the lap band. My cousin just had gastric bypass. She felt it a better route than the lap band. I am leaning the other way right now. The lap band is less invasive and is also reversible, making it a much more appealing alternative for me.

I’m pretty serious about this now. I am convinced that I need a radical intervention in my life and bariatric surgery seems the only way out. I have been considering this for a long time – maybe a year or so. I have gone back and forth about the surgery, wondering if I needed something this drastic. My mind is made now. I know what I need. I just need to go through the process and find a way to pay for it, be that insurance or private pay. I have decided to go through with this even if my insurance doesn’t pay for it. It’s got to be done and I am ready to make the move.

It's Always A Fight

I'm not sure what is going on. My latest A1C was too high: 7.5. That is really high for me, as I typically run in the 6.0 to 6.5 range. My daily blood sugars are running around 200-220. My diet hasn't changed and I have lost 7 pounds, so it doesn't make sense. But one thing is for sure, I have to fix something soon. I am healing a karate injury to my rib, which has been getting worse for a year and a half. It defies traditional medical practioners. They can't seem to figure out what it is, even after seeing several different types of specialists.

I went to see a Chiropractor and he seems to think he can fix it. He's been giving me acupuncture and back adjustments and prescribes some therapies at home (rest and ice). It's too early to tell how much that is helping. I think it is, but I cannot discount the placebo effect. Time will tell. I know I want to fix it so I can get back on the treadmill and bicycle.

It's always a fight, weight loss and blood sugars. They go hand-in-hand, I know. I'm just not sure why my bloodsugars have gone up. I hope to figure it out and get that under control soon.

How To Host A Real Party

The Academy Awards went great last night. We had a nice dinner in the kitchen while we talked and filled out our Oscar ballots. Then we moved into the living room to watch the festivities, leaving the food in the other room. I wasn’t tempted much by the food as it was in the other room and I had my fill of quesadillas, veggies, fruit and angel food cake. No one seemed to mind the all vegetarian food, which was a healthy choice. I didn’t spend my evening in the kitchen working on food that doesn’t matter. I spent it with my friends.

That’s how a party should be. Not an affair that focuses on the food, but one that makes use of the friendships. The food does not add to the bonds; they do nothing to make the party better. All fancy food does is add to the expense of the party. We had fun, my friends and I, and we didn’t need food to boost anything. We spent time together laughing, discussing movies and watching YouTube videos and movie trailers during the commercials. I wish more parties could be like that.

More Nasty Names for Fat Folks

My dedicated four readers will know that I am keeping a running list of names that fat people get called. Considered by some to be demeaning, it is more of a twisted yet cathartic way for me to deal with my weight issues in a healthy way. My friend, Heavy P, was called these the other day and passed them along to me.

• Flabulous
• Count Fatula

The Academy Award Party

My wife and I love the Academy Awards and we have hosted an Oscar party for many years. With parties also comes food issues and I’ve been giving that a lot of thought: what to serve, how much, desserts, and the like.

I finally settled on vegetarian quesadillas. Two of our friends who are coming are vegetarians, so I always make sure, if I am serving meat, to include vegetarian substitutes of some sort. But that adds more food to the party and I want to keep things simple and stay focused on the Oscars rather than the food. So it’s an all vegetarian menu this year:

• Quesadillas (onions, peppers, beans, cheese and whole wheat tortillas)
• Homemade Guacamole
• Spanish Rice
• Fresh veggies
• Fresh fruit
• Angel Food cake
• Hot herbal teas

It’s not very elegant I suppose, but the more elegance, the more I have to focus on the food and that should not be the point of a party. Typically my friends will bring food to the party, but I have told them that there is no need. First, I want to make it easy for them, but I also have an ulterior motive: I want to ensure that no unhealthy foods get in the mix, especially dessert. Parties can be very difficult for the food addict, so I am making this one as fun and fat free as possible.

I Have More to Celebrate Than I Thought

Sorry for the lack of posts lately. I think I’ve been afraid to admit in public, and in private, my feelings lately. I’ve not been feeling particularly good about my weight lately; that is, I haven’t felt like I was accomplishing what I was setting out to do. I have been eating out more lately and not really making healthy choices. I have lots of things that have contributed to that, but in reality what has happened as I have let life control me and my eating habits. So I am trying to focus on getting back on track.

Incidentally, I lost seven pounds. I don’t keep track of my weight, but when I visited the doctor the other day, the nurse told me I lost seven pounds. So I might as well celebrate the good news. I wasn’t that surprise. I tried on a pair of dress slacks the other day and I could not keep them up. They were too loose in the waist, which is my preferred litmus test as to weight loss. I’ll try to do better on my posts.

Spare the Rod

She spanked my wife … 3 times, and I am not too happy about it. Yet somehow it doesn’t surprise me that she would do it.

Aunt Bessie was very upset about Christmas. Most of us spent our time in her den with the kids. We played cards, had fun with the kids and talked. What we didn’t do is gorge on the food in the kitchen. The food, that is, that was not supposed to be there per a promise offered a few week prior. The food isn’t the point of this blog entry. It’s related, indirectly, but it’s merely a plot element to get us to the goal.

When Aunt Bessie brought food into den to tempt me, and I repeatedly refused, my wife finally spoke up telling her that I didn’t need the food. At which point Aunt Bessie shooed her, like a fly from a pie. That is, she swung her hand in my wife’s direction. Aunt Bessie doesn’t like strong women. She believes that women are supposed to be silent. That is, unless they are her. She’s earned the right to speak up because she raised two boys alone, after her husband died. That qualifies her to degrade and punish at will. If I had to guess, I would say that Aunt Bessie does not really believe herself to be a woman, but a man without the dirty digit.

A little while later, Aunt Bessie caught my wife alone in the den, after we all moved to the living room to open gifts. She came up behind my wife and surprised her with three firm swats to the behind: clearly meant as a punishment, for speaking out of turn. My wife is a woman and isn’t blood and she ought, in Aunt Bessie’s mind, to keep quiet. Aunt Bessie’s never said that about my wife outright, but she’s made those types of comments all her life regarding women and non-blood relatives. She is fond of the phrase, “They are not blood.”

A few weeks after this incident, we went out to eat with Aunt Bessie. I don’t know why. I don’t think she deserves it. Anyway, she offered me cookies again. She had baked some and wanted to know if I wanted them. I asked her why she would offer me those, knowing they are bad for me. Her response was simple:

“I’ll never give up.”

Aunt Bessie sees it as her pre-ordained right to dole out judgment and punishment to those around her. She sees us, all of us, as children who need to be disciplined and guided by her. To some extent she believes she is the great principal of our family elementary school.

I am even reconsidering the amount of time that I spend with her. I am angry with her. Angry that she spanked my wife. Angry that she broke her promise to me. Angry that she refuses to give up on her quest to feed me sweets. Anger that she treats anyone who is not “blood” as some kind of secondary submissive existence. The more I write, the angrier I become. Anger can be a productive thing, but to an addict it can also be destructive. Anger can lead to hate, and hate eats holes in our already delicate souls. But I am tired of her treatment of my family.

I’m not sure what to do. Maybe it is she that should be metaphorically spanked. Maybe the problem is that we have too long spared the rod and spoiled her inner child. Cookies be damned.

What's Wrong with Fit Jack or Thin Jack?

Many don’t understand what it means to be a fat guy inside, regardless what the outer layer appears to be: skinny or fat. It’s an elusive thing I suppose for a lot of folks. One friend understands it. He called me the other day to say that he knows what it means to relate to an inner BIGness. I am a BIG guy and that is how I related and see myself. It has less to do with my physical size and more to do with my sense of self.

I had a blog comment from someone who has battled with bulimia. She wrote to discuss my blog and introduce me to a program that she thought would help me lose weight. At the end of the post she nicely suggested I change my name to Fit Jack or Thin Jack. Her thinking was that negative energy can consume us and that in order to make change we must change our minds as well as our eating habits. She didn’t say it like that, but I think I am representing her point fairly.

I don’t disagree that our minds are powerful and we must utilize them in order to help us overcome our fears, anxiety and internal struggles. I also agree that negative energy input will reap negative results. That is where our viewpoints split.

FAT JACK is not negative in my mind. I don’t see the moniker as a symbolic reflection of my own poor self-image. I see it quite the opposite, in fact. For me, embracing my BIGness is a part of the healing and self-acceptance. Saying the name out loud allows me to be free from the harsh name-calling. It allows me to take the power of the word “FAT” back from those who would use it against me. It is my word now, you bastards, and I own it. You can call me fat all you want, but you might as well call the sun a big hot object, because all you do is state the obvious. The sky is blue, it’s bad luck to break a mirror, when Momma ain’t happy ain’t nobody happy, and FAT don’t mean a thing anymore.

To that end, I have been thinking about all the nasty names that the world uses to describe the fat community. It sounds odd and self-deprecating to skinny folks -- and to some fat folks too as far as that goes -- for me to make a list of the names that have so long been used to punish big people. But it is cathartic for me, healing in some respect, to do so. As part of accepting myself for who I am I offer you the:

128 NASTY NAMES FOR FAT FOLKS LIST:

• Alabama Swamp Sow
• Aisle Blocker
• Apple Bottom
• Beast
• Beafy Tits
• BIG
• Big Boned
• Big-and-Wide
• Big Foot
• Big Mac
• BMI (Body Mass Index)
• Blob
• Blubber Butt
• Biscuit Butt
• Boulder
• Breast Boy
• Buddha
• Buffet
• Butterball
• Caterpillar
• Chair crusher
• Chef Boyardee
• Chick Tits
• Chubby
• Chunk
• Couch Potato
• Count Fatula
  
• Cow
• Crisco Kid
• Curves
• Dough Boy
• Donut
• Double wide
• Earthmover
• Elephant
• Fat
• Fat Ass
• Fat Fuck
• Fatty-Fatty, Two-by-Four, Can’t Get Through an Open Door
• Fat Bastard
• Fat and Farty
• Fat Slob
• Fatso
• Fat Blob
• Fatty
• Fat Albert
• Flabulous
  
• Free Willy
• Fridge
• Fork Lift (as in it would take a fork lift to move you)
• GDP (Gross Domestic Product)
• Grass Eater
• Grease Trap
• Gross weight
• Heifer
• House Cow
• Hindenburg
• Hippo
• Hipporind Graser
• Hog
• Human Garbage Disposal
• Hungry
• Hungry, Hungry Hippo
• Husky
• Jenny Craig
• Jello
• Jelly Roll
• Jiggles
• Jupiter
• Lane Bryant
• Large
• Lard Ass
• Lard Lad
• Lard-O
• Loin of Beef
• Lord of the Fries
• Love Handles
• Lumpy
• McButter Pants
• McFatterson
• Man Boobs
• Manitee
• Muffin Top
• Obese
• Overweight
• Pear
• Pot Belly
• Pizza Dough
• Pig
• Plus Size
• Porkbeast
• Pork Butt
• Pork Roast
• Pork Loin
• Porky Pig
• Prader-Willi
• Pudgy
• Refrigerator
• Robust
• Rumpapotimus
• Sasquatch
• Slop Gobbler
• Snuffleupagus
• Solid
• Spoon and fork operator
• Sumo
• Sweat Factory
• Sweat Hog
• Slob
• Sir Cumference
• Thunder Thighs
• Titanic
• Triple Chin
• Two Ton
• Ton of Fun
• Tree Trunk
• Tubby
• Tub-of-Lard (Tub-O-Lard)
• Tuba Luba
• Walking Smorgasbord
• Walrus
• Warthog
• Whale
• Weight Watchers
• Wide load
• Vast
• Von Flabbernoodle
• Yetti

It should be understood that many people will mixed and match these words to create new and interesting versions. Also kids will use alliteration to put the persons name in front of one of these names. Following are some examples:

• Slop-gobbling Warthog
• Fatty McButtter Pants
• Mary Manitee
• Hungry, Hungry Harold
• Jennifer Jiggles
• Lard Lad Larry
• Sally Von Flabbernoodle

I am not losing weight so that I can finally be skinny and happy. There are some who feel that way but it is not me. I am losing weight because my weight is affecting my health and in order to live longer, spend years with my family, I have to lose some pounds – a lot of pounds actually. In order to achieve better health, I could stand to lose 100 pounds or more. But the skinny part, that scares me BIG and plenty. I don’t identify with skinniness, but I can learn to be skinny on the outside and BIG on the inside.

The name FAT JACK has more than a ring to it. It’s about understanding that I am at times powerless against my own body. In order to obtain my goals for my body, I must accept that I am not in control of my own bones. There’s nothing wrong with Fit Jack or Thin Jack, except for me it is a label – a self-identity – that is foreign to me. I don’t know who Thin Jack is. It’s not me. Skinny or not, I am the same person. I don’t change just because my size does. It’s not related to my size so much as it is to my soul. I don’t know if it’s that way for everyone, but it is for me. I am FAT JACK and I am happy as Hell to take the name and wear the T-shirt.

(Have some names of your own that I didn't think of, send me a comment or an email and let me know. I'll be glad to add them to the list.)

Two Fig Newtons Is A Serving

I love Nabisco’s Fig Newtons, especially now that they have a 100 percent whole grain version. While they don’t have trans fat and are made from whole grain wheat flour that does not necessarily mean they are healthy is large amounts. Large amounts being the key. Did I tell you that I love them there cookies?

Lately I’ve gotten in the habit of eating several as a snack. When I say several, I don’t mean one or two servings, but rather a half a package. Fig Newtons are sold in packages with two rolls inside. Each roll contains 15 cookies. That’s a total of 30 of the little whole grain devils in all. Somehow, I have slowly increased my portions into devouring a whole roll in one sitting. I’ve justified that because they are whole wheat with no trans fat, which is a ridiculous thought, but that’s how it is.

I found them on sale yesterday, when I went grocery shopping by myself, and I bought eight packages of them. Eight! It’s a bit embarrassing, but in the depths I was thinking that I would be home by myself all next week and I would be able to eat them at will. I should not have done that, because having an excess really increases my justification that I can eat a whole roll in one sitting. My wife figured out my little plan and instantly hid them from me. Now she’s limited me to only 4-5 cookies at a time. She will go get me a serving when I want them. Now that they are hidden, I will have to wait until she gets home to get my fix, which will drive me crazy.

When it comes right down to it, I have to choose between the environment and self-preservation. That is, I cannot really buy a lot of foods in bulk or even in typical packages because it’s just too tempting for me to overeat. Individual packing allows me to eat a small portion, fulfill my desire for whatever it is I want, and not eat half a package of Fig Newtons or whatever else it is that I want. Although if I am not careful, I will sneak two or three of the individual packages at one time, but that is far less likely than just having a whole package sitting around. They do make my Newtons in smaller amounts called packs to go, which work great for me, but they are more expensive and they don’t come in the whole grain version. That’s the way of it these days: healthy food costs so much more than high fat foods.

I wasn’t going to write about the fig fiasco, as I didn’t want to admit I bought eight packages at one time nor did I want to put in writing that I have been eating a half package at once. My blog editor and lovely wife convinced me that it was a good thing to write about. All that journaling and healing business. As I write this, she is gone. She took my daughter out for a couple of hours. I am tempted to hunt the house for the packages of figs. All the writing about them got me to thinking about them. But she counted them and would know if they showed up missing, so I better now. All part of that accountability business. Besides, if she caught me, she’d make me write it up here. I’ll go eat a gala apple instead.

A Break from the Breakfast Brunch Buffet

Unlike Aunt Bessie, my parents are much more sympathetic to my compulsive overeating and have taken steps to alleviate my holiday food-related stress. Opting for a more healthy Christmas day brunch, my mother decided to forego our traditional breakfast biscuit and gravy buffet and instead cooked a small amount food and offered healthy options like veggies and fruits. The desserts were gone and so were all the starchy, high fat foods.

We had a small, and I mean small, prime rib roast, a small amount of broiled pork filet and sliced turkey breast. All of which only filled up three paper plates. We had veggies, fruits, and salad. That’s it. No desserts no dips, no high sugar foods. I don’t think anyone missed a thing. If they did, they didn’t say anything. Now my mother called everyone ahead of time and told them what she was doing and why. I didn’t know she did that until later, but I don’t mind. She told me that I didn’t have to worry about Christmas brunch and so I didn’t. She took care of it. I’m pretty open about my weight issues and don’t mind if people know.

Honestly, I didn’t feel like I was missing out at all. I had second helpings on the salad (and a touch of the meat) and then stopped. I did not feel the least bit cheated, I was not over full, and my gi tract was thankful that I didn’t eat biscuits and gravy. I love them, but they do not love me. Christmas at Mom and Dad’s house was nice and I didn’t overeat the entire time I was there. I ate healthy because there were only healthy choices available. The only desserts in the house were small, individual cups of ice cream (which I did not have nor want) and sugar free Klondike bars (of which I ate two over the course of four days.) Now that is love. It is that kind of support that will help me make it through my journey of a healthy lifestyle.

The Cookie Rapist

I decided I wasn’t going to Aunt Bessie’s Christmas party because of all the food, and I told her so. I’ve received support for that decision. In the end, however, I backed out. Not because of lack of resolve or fears of Aunt Bessie’s wrath. Nor did I do it out of respect for her feelings. I agreed to go for two reasons: Aunt Bessie agreed not to serve the traditional buffet and my parents asked me to.

I told Aunt Bessie, during a Sunday meal at Ruby Tuesday, that I wasn’t coming because there was too much food and it is too hard. She says she doesn’t understand what I mean when I say it’s “too hard”. I think she’s full of crap. She understands it exactly; she doesn’t agree with it. She would rather me come and refrain from her constant barrage of stumbling blocks that she seems to enjoy throwing my way. It’s a game of some sort. Anyway, she was very unhappy that I was not coming. At first she tried to negotiate a way for my daughter to still be able to come. I will have none of that. Call it what you will, I am spending Christmas with my daughter and I will not subject her to that which I am unwilling to endure. I am the only thing standing between Aunt Bessie and my daughter and if you think she enjoys stuffing food down my gullet, she enjoys doing it to my daughter as well. I do not allow that.

Since that didn’t work she switched tactics. She unselfishly announced that she was changing the entire menu just for me. We talked about what that meant exactly: no buffet lines, small amounts of food, no dips and junk, and forgoing the desserts. I know my Aunt Bessie too well and I knew that this was an empty promise – a ruse –engineered in order to manipulate me to come to her party. She was not going to serve only turkey, salad and green beans. My upbringing dictates my behavior and I cannot bring myself to accuse her of such a deceptive plan. After all, as everyone points out, I just have to learn not to eat so much. That phrase is starting to piss me off a bit. I am not at the point where I can attend events where my drug is readily available and sitting out, and not partake in it. Maybe someday, but not right now. First I have to learn why I overeat, how to overcome it in my everyday life, and then attempt the big holiday parties.

My parents and wife agreed to help me at Aunt Bessie’s party, which is a huge help. I went, but rather than spending time in the kitchen, as we always do, we all hung out in her den, playing with the kids and talking. Aunt Bessie was not too happy about that because we were not eating the food, which was the point. I kept a glass of water with me to help satisfy my desire to eat. When it came time to eat, I had turkey, salad and green beans. I ate nothing else, but it was very stressful and difficult. I was exhausted after the ordeal. There was much more to the feast:

• Turkey
• Dressing
• Green Beans
• Chicken Stew
• 4-5 dozen Crescent Rolls
• Olives
• Pickles
• Crackers
• Chips
• Dips
• Mushrooms
• Cheese
• Canned Cheese
• Nuts
• Pumpkin Pie
• Cheesecake
• Angel Food Cake
• Cookies
• Peanut Brittle

I know that Christmas is a time for family and big parties are common. I understand that and I accept that. I don’t ask anyone to change their parties, and I didn’t ask Aunt Bessie to change hers. I change my behaviors, not those of other people. If I cannot attend a party because of the food, then I do not go. Aunt Bessie would have no part of that and agreed to have only turkey, salad and soup in order that I could attend. It was her idea to change things and to hear her tell it she was already planning on changing the menu all along.

I was fully prepared for the buffet. To her credit, it was better than usual. There weren’t mashed potatoes or sweet potato casserole, but there was dressing (a dish I love). She said it was okay because she made it with sage and I don’t like it with sage. That is true, I prefer it without sage. But that doesn’t mean I won’t eat it. If I can’t get real heroine, then I will take her lying and serving it anyway. Besides everyone was watching. There is something to be said about anger and its use to help one overcome and succeed. Truth be told, I really didn’t need all of that food that day.

I was strong and being watched, so I stayed in the den and my family stayed with me. We played cards and talked and had fun. Every little bit Aunt Bessie would bring food from the kitchen to the den and pass it around. My wife and parents, supporting me, always politely declined. Then Aunt Bessie would make her way to me and entice me to take the food. I always declined graciously, to which she would ask again.

Once she brought me the guacamole and asked me to try it. I just stared at her, letting her know that she was crossing the line. She didn’t care. She stayed the course. So she asked again and again. She knows that I love guacamole. It’s one of my favorites. After watching this for as long as she could stand it, my wife chimed in and politely mentioned that I didn’t want it and I didn’t need it. Aunt Bessie swatted her hand at my charming wife and asked me again to try it, saying that it was vegetables so I could have it. I stayed firm and just continued my stare.

Then she says to me: “I’m not trying to get you to eat it; I just want you to try it.”

I really don’t know what on Earth that is supposed to mean. To try a food is to eat a food and it baffles me why she would insist that I eat something I don’t want to eat considering I am struggling with my weight. We had just eaten dinner for crying out loud. If I wanted any food I would have gotten up and helped myself to the abundant buffet. I take that back; it doesn’t baffle me, really. I know what this is and it is about power and control.

She did the same with the pies and cakes. She asked me several times to eat the desserts she prepared. I didn’t want to eat them because I was full and I was trying to be healthy. That didn’t make her happy so she took every opportunity to get me to eat them.

The last straw, and you’d think I would have hit this point a long time ago, was when we were getting ready to leave. She pulled me aside, away from my supporters, and waved cookies right under my nose. She quietly begged me to eat them, stating that they would not hurt me. I did nothing. I stood there in horror, trembling with anger, and I realized that she does not care for my health. I looked into this woman’s eyes and understood that she does not care a thing about how I feel. Telling her “no” is nothing more than a double dog dare and she will do anything to win, even if that entails guilt, pain and lies. Her desire to exert control over the family is overwhelming. It is about power and control for her. In a weird way it is a form a rape. The more I say “no” the harder she pushes the food into my mouth. Cookies and cakes, peanut brittle and pecan pie are her penises. She is my food rapist and I am tired of having to endure her constant raping of my stomach and soul. God love her, I’m tired of it.

She has some kind of mind control over this family and enjoys seeing people suffer at her hands. For some unknown reason my family continues to put up with it. Years ago we traveled the state of Missouri going to Aunt Bessie’s on Christmas Eve, then on to see the extended family an hour away, and finally to my maternal grandmother’s home two hours away, where we spent the night and celebrated Christmas that next morning. We have Christmas at our only at our house now, because years ago my family said they wanted to be home for Christmas. That is, except for Aunt Bessie. We still do her little ditty even though no one wants to. Well I for one am done with it. She lied to me about the menu and then tried to rape me with her cookies, cake, and guacamole. I am drawing the line and I will not attend that party next year. I am done and there will be no backing out of it, come what may.

I have finally had my fill.

What To Do; What To Do

The holiday buffets of butter are a compulsive overeater’s deathtrap. A food addict, especially a new one, just cannot handle or tolerate a smorgasbord of croissant-wrapped smokies, bacon greased green bean casserole, and pecan pie. Judas Priest!

I have several of these parties that I am obligated to go to during the holiday season. They are all the same hog trough of goodies and delights. Some things have changed this year. My family and friends are changing their parties to have more healthy food choices. Some are even getting rid of the buffet altogether. The truth is, I never thought anyone would change their traditions for me, so I never bothered asking. They took it upon themselves to make changes and to tell me about it ahead of time in order to relieve my stress.

My friends Paul and Linda are having a healthy vegetarian buffet.
My parents are discontinuing the famous breakfast buffet entirely.

Aunt Bessie is a different story. She is worried that we won’t have dressing and dips for her party. My parents and I talked to her about this party. I didn’t ask her to change her party, but I did say that I would not attend. It’s a daylong buffet event with all the traditional Christmas dinner and appetizers to boot. Here’s a sample menu:

1. Turkey
2. Ham
3. Dressing
4. Turkey gravy
5. Mashed potatoes with cream
6. Sweet potato casserole with glazed pecans
7. Green beans
8. Salad
9. Corn
10. Corn casserole
11. Pecan Pie
12. Pumpkin Pie
13. Cheesecake
14. Peanut brittle
15. Sugar cookies
16. Croissants
17. Chips and salsa
18. Crackers and cream cheese dip
19. Vegetable dip
20. Vegetables
21. Nacho dip with chips

All of this food is out and about all day for a mere eight adults, one teenage girl, and three children. I think my Aunt Bessie is a bit obsessed with food. It’s been this way every year since before I was born. It is another tradition to take that food and make us take it home so we can continue to stuff our gullet. It’s just too much. So I told her that I could not attend these types of parties anymore. I offered to stay at my parents’ home and relax. I really don’t mind doing that. The idea of attending this event is terrifying to me. I have explained (and explained and explained) that these appetizers and other traditional foods are death to me. I literally eat all day long, even after I am stuffed to the gills. I just can’t help myself.

Well she’s decided that she will change her party, a very gracious thing to do. She will have turkey, salad and green beans. She even agreed to leave off the pies, cookies and dips. I couldn’t believe and I didn’t’ believe it. I know my Aunt Bessie and she will say one thing and then do another. That is proving true. She’s decided that we must have dressing and she let is slip that she already made the pecan pie and is making a cheesecake. The cheesecake you see will have Splenda in it and that I should just not eat the crust. Well, I can’t just not eat the crust. It doesn’t work that way for me. Then she announced that she is working on a healthy dip for me. If she were doing it for me, then she wouldn’t do it at all. She keeps saying that she is worried that we will not have enough food to eat. Mind you, no one wants that much food. They have said as much. It’s not really for us; it’s for Aunt Bessie.

We won’t just have turkey and salad and green beans. We will have croissants and pies and dressing and there will be cookies because Heaven knows that the kids need cookies. My Mother already told her that if she makes all that stuff, then it would be the last time Aunt Bessie gets to host the event. I have to say, I kind of like it when other folks stick up for me. It makes me feel loved. I do not like causing controversy with Aunt Bessie. She’s in her late 80’s and I don’t want to upset her, but her food – her love – is killing me and she refuses to stop. I wish all of this didn’t have to revolve around food so much. I wish we could just be together and enjoy one another’s company rather than the food. Company is love. I like that much better.

Christmas is About Love Not Food

I have been worried about the holidays, especially Christmas. This is the super bowl of the year for my family. Christmas is it. We go all out, spend a lot of time together, eat enormous amounts of food, spend more time together, gobble more food, and eventually open presents in a frenzy of paper and ribbon extraction. It is insane and wonderful. We really look forward to it every year.

That is still true, but this year is different in that I am not looking forward to the food. I am, but I’m not. We have several parties and celebrations that are all centered on food and lots of it. My cousins have a huge party and they are some kind of good cooks. That is the first weekend of December. It’s a great time and I love seeing all the extended family, but the food is buffet style and it is nearly incomprehensible.

I’m not going this year and I would love to say that it is because I am strong and I am refraining from parties that have too much of an emphasis on food. I don’t know if I am strong enough to say that and stand up to the family that way. I really want to only for self-preservation, but it’s hard. I hunger for that celebration with family and food. This year I don’t have to give that party up for that reason. I am in school and have too much homework to do. I can’t spend the day driving to another town and spending the day. My wife has a work party (the bosses boss) and that is a must-attend event.

Unfortunately that is like my family parties, just worse. There is food in every room of the house, and every level. There are at least 100 people that attend this work-related event so it’s big. They start cooking two months before hand. The problem is that I can’t get away from the endless buffet tables. They are in every freaking room of the house. So we are choosing to go, fraternize, and then leave. The big boss’ wife makes some delicious desert that is so buttery and addictive that it calls to me weeks before that party happens. I don’t remember the name of it; I call it baked heroine. It’s buttery and gooey, artery clogging, heart stopping, fat building goodness and I don’t need one single piece of it. I don’t know that I can keep out of it, but hopefully we won’t stay long enough for me to eat much of it.

Then comes Aunt Bessie’s party. She cooks enough food two feed 35 people and she expects all 12 of us to eat it all … every morsel. What we don’t eat is forced on us to take home. It consists of the traditional turkey and stuffing dinner with extra sugar and salt. It’s good, mind you, but it is not good for me. It’s laid out in buffet style, of course, and we spend several hours there. I pick and pick at the food, then over eat during the meal, and then pick some more. It is absolute insanity. Then I am forced to take home the food that is bad for me.

On Christmas Day, we get up at the crack of God and open presents – usually around 6 a.m. or so. The kids get up and so we all get up. Afterwards, the rest of the extended family comes over for Christmas Breakfast. This has been a tradition in my family for years and it is a big food extravaganza for at least 15 people, sometimes more. The typical buffet consists of:

Biscuits
Sausage Gravy
Pancakes
Sausage
Bacon
Fried Fresh Side Pork
Ham
Egg Casserole
Fried Eggs
Hash Browns
Fruit
Butter and Jelly
Peanut Butter (for the pancakes)
Milk
Orange Juice
Apple Juice
Syrup

Sometimes we throw in extra goods like banana bread french toast, cinnamon roll french toast or pork chops. Don’t get me wrong; I love every bite sopping up any leftover gravy with a biscuit. And if it were just one meal, then it wouldn’t be a problem. But it’s the last in a long line and it’s becoming dangerous for me. I don’t want to give it up. Like an old friendly blanket, I want to curl up with my biscuits and gravy. I have to draw the line somewhere.

How exactly do I tell my family about my concerns? Do I ask them to change their long traditions for me? That feels selfish, partly because Aunt Bessie has told me so. Others have told me that I can’t avoid the parties. That is wrong. I just have to learn not to overeat. I don’t know how anyone else will feel about me wanting to change these traditions and I don’t want to ruin their Christmas. That’s a lot to ask. They know about my food addiction; maybe I should just let them come to a decision by themselves. What if they don’t? Then what? Controlling my eating has proved a fruitless endeavor. I have been worried about it for some time. I don’t want to the reason. Like the one student in class who ruins it for everyone else.

“Because of one student, boys and girls, we are no longer going to let you do such-and-such. I’m very sorry, but someone has ruined it for the rest of us.” That is a lot of stress and actually makes me want to eat more. That doesn’t work at all. There has to be a better way, but I have not been sure what to do, until recently.

Turns out I didn’t have to say a word. Just expressing my concerns on my blog has yielded results. My family reads my blog, a thought that I try to keep out of my mind so that I am honest in my writing and honest with my audience. I figure it’s my space and if they want to read it then that’s fine, but they can choose not to if they find it hurtful or offensive. Turns out that isn’t true either. I think it has helped my mother and I to have a closer relationship. We talk about things we’ve never discussed before. She came up with the solution on her own and it doesn’t really involve me so much. I haven’t asked them to change anything. I’ve just talked about my concerns. The other day she told me on the phone:

“I do not want you to worry about Christmas. You hear me? You are not to worry about it anymore,” said my mom.

That’s all it takes I guess. I don’t really know what that means. Is she going to make a new breakfast menu or is she going to make me an alternative breakfast? Maybe it’s something I have not thought about. I don’t know, but I’ve decided not to worry about it. She said she’s taking care of it and that’s just going to be enough for me. It feels nice not to have to think about it. I don’t want my Christmas taken up with obsessive thoughts about food.

Christmas is about love and contrary to our cultural traditions, food is not love. Parties are not about food. Celebrations are about family and community, love and peace. I have a hard time with that idea. I want it to be about food just like the next guy, but I can’t do that anymore. I have to change that before anything else can happen.

I’m not worried about food or about what others think. Mom said she will take care of it and I’m going to let her. She’s good at that kind of thing. No one argues when she makes changes in the family. When she says something is a new tradition, then it’s a new tradition and everyone just accepts it. When she says that we are doing something, then everyone does it, like it or not. And they don’t put up a fuss. She wields some kind of super mind manipulation power, kind of like a girl version of Professor X from the comic book and movie franchise, The X-men.

I’m excited about Christmas and about the prospects of not worrying and fretting. It’s about family and that’s exactly what I plan on focusing on. I will be out of school for a month and want to spend my time with my family, not with food. Christmas is about Love and I am determined to keep it focused there.

The First Thanksgiving

Every year we spend Thanksgiving Day with my wife’s family, which is thankfully not the typical engorging binge fest of the traditional type. Always a health conscience family, they instituted a turkey day change many years ago. It’s a wonderful day of family playfulness and Christmas tree decorating, and oh yeah, we have some food too.

A small pot of homemade beef vegetable soup, chili, turkey breast, cheese and crackers and fruit are the main ingredients. There isn’t much more than that. There is usually a pumpkin pie, but it stays hidden for most of the day. Something for which I am indeed thankful.

This year, the family called and asked us what they could do for me. That’s right, they asked. Unlike Aunt Bessie, who is more concerned with her preferences and traditions than anyone elses health, they offered to include or exclude any foods, including the pies. That makes all the difference in the world. I was okay with the pie. I probably shouldn’t be and in truth I probably should have asked if they might go without it, or at least to offer a sugar-free version, but I didn’t. I guess, deep down inside, I really wanted that pumpkin pie. I am concerned for my health, but I still powerless sometimes. I want the smorgasbord just like everyone else.

I did pretty well, except for the pie. There wasn’t stuffing and sweet taters and homemade bread and corn and all that other crap that does me in. That’s important to mentioned. I made changes. I didn’t gorge on all that nonsense. I ate soup and a few pieces of cheese and crackers, veggies and fruit. Pumpkin pie aside, that is still a big change and I celebrate that success. Could be better, but more importantly it could have been much worse. I could have chosen to … well you know.

I’m feeling pretty good about this holiday season, so far. It’s only just gotten started, but I am optimistic and ready to plan for it.

It's Not All Success

Busy nights are always a deadly trap for me. We had parent-teacher conferences and didn’t have time to make supper beforehand as it started at 5:30 p.m. When we left, it was dark outside because of the end of daylight savings time and we were hungry. We decided to … celebrate our child’s excellent report card.

I still have a way to go in my search for healthy eating behaviors. It’s a long and treacherous road and some days are better than others. Last night was not such a good night. I had salad, soup and sushi, so that’s a pretty healthy choice. A much better choice than say a country staple (and personal favorite of mine) chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and gravy, corn and rolls.

The real issue is that fact that I used food as a celebration. Here I go, criticizing others for brining me food and always having elaborate parties centered around food and yet I run out and celebrate a good report card with food. That’s a problem for me and one paradigm that is some kind of hard habit to break.

It’s one thing to refuse to attend someone else’s party because it centers around food or has too much food just sitting on tables and crying out to be eaten and sit in the comforts of a warm belly. It’s another to tell yourself “no” when it’s your little party and you want to celebrate with dinner out.

Dinner out. That is the thing, isn’t it? Many of our cultural rituals center on eating. Some tell me that I just have to learn to deal with those parties because they are going to come up. Yeah, I don’t really like that answer. I think it’s a cop out and is only valid so long as I accept it.