Tuesday, June 10, 2008

No dice!

So she wouldn't tell me. She was sitting right there with the numbers in my chart and she wouldn't tell me how much weight I've lost. "I don't want you to get caught up in numbers!" she says. Oh really? You wanna' get caught up in a good ol' fashioned Abdullah The Butcher headlock until you relent and give up the numbers? She said my surgeon would be pleased and she was pleased. So I guess I should take it at that and be happy.
I guess I'm surprised by the overall "mentalness" of all this. I went in thinking "fix my stomach, make me thinner and let's call it a day." The breadth of the program is set up, of course, to deal with issues that brought me to this point in the first place. And, I must admit, that I'm finding out more and more about those issues and myself every time I speak with her. It's amazing how long the human mind holds onto things. Some of these things took root in my childhood, for God's sake.
Suppertime - when I was a child suppertime wasn't a meal. It wasn't just a refueling of the body. It was an event. Some of my fondest childhood memories go back to my Mother's supper table. Every night was Thanksgiving as all three sisters and I gathered around the table with our parents. It was where LIFE happened. It's where I heard my father talk about his job and my sisters talk about school and where rules were laid down and plans were made. So forgive me if it falls flat now when I have my 7 ounces of protein, one starch, one veggie and...and...well that's it. I have those few bites alone a lot of the time because I'm eating early on my bride's late nights (to avoid the obvious downfalls of eating late.) I fed the dog the other night at the same time I ate. I asked her how her day went. She came over and used my leg for a napkin, wiping a lovely mix of slobber and mushy dog food on my shin. It wasn't quite the same.


Elisabeth7291 said...

Welcome to the South. Supper IS an event. And everything that we do, we do it with food. We welcome children and see off those who have passed. We acknowledge a new year and new marriage. We celebrate, comfort and console - all with food. Nothing happens in the South without recognizing it with food. And the thing is, it isn't grilled chicken and veggies. It's deviled eggs and casseroles made with cream of mushroom soup. It's meat dipped in buttermilk before it is dropped into hot oil. It's pound cakes that are really made with a pound of the real stuff - no angel food cakes for the South! And people are surprised when primarily the top 10 "fattest" states are below the Mason-Dixon.

All I can say is I hear you & understand. Oh, and Happy Father's Day -

Chris said...

Hi, T!
I am so proud for you! Keep the postings coming. Even with the snide comments about the Dawgs, they're great. Your usual humor and insight shine through.
Love ya!