This ish is real hard. This ish is cray-cray hard.
I've got years' worth of starts, stops and re-starts; try-agains, do-overs and had-its. What I don't have is any weight loss to show for it.
2013 has been a pretty rough year. Not terrible, but not the easiest, either. January and February were filled with some great get-healthy attempts. Some false-starts, but some mean-wells. Then, my belly button started hurting in March.
It started with a strange stinging/burn inside of my belly button. Being the good hypochondriac journalist I am, I googled my symptoms. I quickly found oodles of pages (Mayo included) saying it was an umbilical hernia (!). Treatment? Surgery. Surgery or it gets worse, might I add.
After a sleepless Thursday night (filled with sweat, tears and almost vomit), I vowed to call my doctor first thing Friday morning... when I found out that she quit her practice. I visited my town's nearest walk-in clinic, and the sweet doc diagnosed me with a belly button infection. I left with a script and what I thought was a piece of mind. (Though I also made an appointment with a rumored wonderful surgeon, to cover my bases.)
A week into my script later, my belly button was still stinging. A girlfriend recommended a nearby practice, I got in with a doc and ta-da. YEP. 'Twas a hernia. An ultra sound, CT scan and $1,000 later, and sure enough, it was a small umbilical hernia. If it didn't hurt, I was to keep an eye on it.. but because it hurt, I got to keep my appointment with my surgeon.
One horrendously L O N G month later, I met the guy. He was fabulous. I found out that I interviewed him a few years ago on a story about trans fat, but I digress. I most certainly would need surgery, he said, and within the next three months. D-Day was June 4, and here I sit, two weeks later, fatter than ever, sore, and a mess.
A blistery (because I am having an allergic reaction to the steri-strips), belly button-less mess. Once I was in surgery, I was being iodine-d up and they found a mole inside of my belly button. It was a strange one, and pretty deep, too, so as a precaution (and they were cutting that area anyway), doc decided to remove my belly button. I woke up without a navel. Seriously. None of my friends believe me, but I NOW HAVE NO NAVEL.
Anyway, I went to my follow-up appointment last week. They sent away the mole, and come to find out, that hidden little sucker was PRECANCEROUS, and by next year or the year after, it would have been mela-fucking-noma. (TELL me things don't happen for a reason!)
Not only was the hernia (possibly helped along by my weight) a wake-up call, the fact that I could have had friggen skin cancer was a super whammy. (Honestly, who keeps tabs on the INSIDE of their belly button? The closest relationship I ever had with mine was a little swipey-doo with a soapy cloth in the shower...)
I've learned plenty of valuable lessons. Just because I don't have high cholesterol or triglycerides (yet) does not mean that I am healthy internally. Perhaps I would have gotten a hernia anyway (as thin, healthy people do!), but perhaps if I wasn't so overweight, I wouldn't have. Perhaps if I wasn't over weight, I wouldn't have plantar faciitis and have to wear inserts and tennis shoes nearly every day. (Maybe I would, as healthy-sized people can have the condition. But, maybe it wouldn't hurt as bad.)
I can maybe, what if and wah-wah myself to death, but it isn't constructive. Instead, I am vowing here, on this blog that no one reads, once and for all, I am making this a fucking lifestyle. I'd say that I'd make it a lifestyle if it killed me, but fuck -- it already is.
Husband is on board, too, and so are our families. Family dinners will no longer be laden with breads, butters, spreads, salt, pasta, and cheese. Instead, these will be small glimmers of delight... the cherries on top of the produce-filled, protein-packed, perfectly-portioned plate-fulls.
I rejoined weight watchers online tonight (and will switch to meetings this fall as our budget allows!), and I start Wednesday (my old weigh-in day).
It's time to accept the fact that starting over is really, really hard.
But you never have to start over if you never quit in the first place.
