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Someone once told me, you are only as strong as your willpower.
Recently, I've been as weak as a little chick.
It's not for lack of trying, I just haven't wanted it bad enough.
It's not for lack of trying, I just haven't wanted it bad enough.
I decided to start this blog as a way to chronicle my thoughts, feelings, frustrations, triumphs and more. I want to have an outlet vent and to pour out my deepest fears and my highest aspirations. I don't expect anybody to read it, but if it reaches or helps even one person, then it would be worth it.
The story of me:
I've always been overweight. Sometimes not as much as others, but the battle of the bulge has always been there. Since I was 16, I've been on pills, diets, exercise plans, etc. nothing ever worked.
Then on Jan 2003, I decided to submit to the Gastric Band. It's A simple procedure done through laparoscopy in which they insert the band and port through a tiny opening in your abdomen. I lost 80lbs. Perfect! A magic wand! But alas, not all things are forever and after the birth of my first son, I ballooned and gained all 80 + 20 more. So, in 2008, I decided to go have the band checked out and possibly refilled.
There are always surprises at every corner, nothing is as easy as we think it will be. My band was there alright, but it was embedded into my stomach. My doctor was going to have to remove the old one and put in a new one. Which he did. Problem solved, right? Not exactly. 36 hours after my surgery, I had a fever of 103. Not a good sign. I was taken to the hospital ER where I was put on cold baths. Nothing worked and I was taken back in to surgery.
I've always had allergies, and as such, my body doesn't tolerate foreign objects very well. Sutures have always been a problem. Even the glue on the band aid, if it stays long on my skin, it will cause a Rash or burn. So, my body had already started to take action against the first band. It was the enemy to my immune system. Well, nobody told it that the new one was better and improved. My body didn't know. So it continued attacking it. Producing large quantities of casualties in my abdomen. Not going into specifics, my doctor had to slice my abdomen open and clean everything up, remove the new band, and stitch me back up.
I woke up in the ICU. Twelve hours had passed. I had no idea what had happened. I was intubated, on oxygen and I couldn't move. I was in and out of consciousness for the next 4 days. Four days that I will never get back from my son. Four days that my life was in the balance. I could have been a statistic.
So now, I had no magic wand, but I had a new lease on life. I resolved to take it into my own hands. I would lose it the old fashioned way. I joined Weight Watchers, since it had ALWAYS worked for me in the past. (Just not as fast as I liked) and began a walking routine. I lost 40lbs! I was on the right track, motivated and on a life high.
But, sometimes, life throws you curve balls. I got pregnant with my second son. And although I wanted to continue on the healthy track, pregnancy cravings will get you. I didn't gain very much, mind you. Only 18lbs. That wasn't the problem.
I decided to breastfeed my second just like the first. Well, let me tell you, that thing they tell you about burning 500 calories a day? Yeah, well, they don't tell you about the ravenous hunger that accompanies it. It was un controllable. I quickly gained almost everything back.
And this is where I am at now. I stopped BF when my second was six months old, he's 10 months now and I halfheartedly have been attempting to lose the "baby" weight. I've been procrastinating, enjoying the freedom to eat as I wish and lounge around.
What happened, you say? A mirror. It's not until we see ourselves in our rawest form, that the shock of what we've become, hits us. I'm done. I'm done being lazy. I'm done being tired, exhausted and sick. I'm done being frightened of getting diabetes. I'm done taking BP medication twice a day.
I want to run, laugh and play with my boys to my hearts content.
I will do it.
One day at a time.
Ali
