Surgery day + 5

Today was amazing. I felt energy and strength like I haven't since before surgery and I put on a pair of old size 14 jeggings that fit and buttoned over all my swelling and garments so I could actually go out looking like a normal person instead of an unemployed sweatpants wearing slob. Sorry to anyone out there who is actually unemployed and wears sweatpants. Just not being able to wear normal clothes for the past 5 days has been getting me down and making me feel like a bum.

The day started off well when I tore off all of my binding garments and actually took some pictures of my new body because until I saw it, I wasn't sure it was really there. I know it still looks awful now cause I'm swollen and bruised and have Frankenstein looking stitches all over me but I can finally see the future instead of only seeing the past when I look at myself in the mirror. In my jeans, I noticed every time I saw myself in a mirror today that I really do have a small hour-glass shape going on where my body narrows at the waist and widens at the hips. Amazing! It is the first time in my life!

Also good today was time spent with my grandmother, my great aunt, my little cousin, and grandfather. I got a manicure and the Vietnamese guy doing my nails flirted with me. "Your arms are strong" he said while massaging my hands. "Yeah, I lift weights" I told him. "I bet your arms look good when you lift weights" He said in almost incomprehensible English. "Hmmm...yeah, I guess." Was the only thing I could imagine was an appropriate response. "I could teach you kung fu." He said. "I'm only in town for a week and I just got out of the hospital so I can't." I told him. Hmm... there's a pick up line if I ever heard one. Good on him for trying though!

On the downside, 2 meals with my grandparents is enough to remind me why I ended up 273 lbs to begin with. I am really proud of myself for both staying calm and cheerful throughout dinner and eating only what I needed to and not letting the pressure get to me. So what is this mealtime nightmare you ask?

Let's start with lunch. I arrive at my grandmother's to find her and my great-aunt ready to sit down to eat. There are bowls of "salad from a bag" and several dressings on the table (all of them fat free) and she is heating up the main course. The salad, while I'm not complaining about it being from a bag, was just not the good quality lettuce I'm used to. It was something to the effect of iceberg with shredded carrots. Not even worth me eating and taking up room in my tiny stomach. I poured some dressing on and poked around with it to be polite. Lucky for me, I'm on the looser side with my band and eating some lettuce wasn't the meal-ruiner it used to be.

On to the main course... Turns out lunch was a) leftover rotisserie chicken, b) a Healthy choice pot roast/baked potato/carrots/apple tart frozen dinner c) some collard greens, d) some tomatoes and okra, e) dinner rolls. We were encouraged to take a bit of everything. And when I say encouraged, it was quite a montage of "Do you want some of ___, can you eat ___?, are you sure you don't want some ____, come on, have some ___" I took what looked like the moistest part of the chicken and a teaspoon of each "vegetable" just to taste a bite. I ended up being quite satisfied with my chicken on a dinner roll, so I can't complain about the quality of lunch. It was just odd. Especially considering we were supposed to go out to some nice ethnic food festival thing but my grandmother decided against it because they probably wouldn't have anything that was "on her diet." Yes, at 74 she is still watching her weight. Really, all in all, lunch wasn't that bad. The conversation was nice and I enjoy socializing with my grandmother and aunt. It was dinner that turned more ugly than I would ever show on the outside.

My little cousin (5 years younger) arrived just before 6 and we decided to go to our favorite place which is Thai but also serves sushi. It's a place I could eat at every night when I'm visiting home and never tire of. In all the different places I've lived I haven't found a restaurant that quite compares. Good thing my grandparents like it to so asking to go there is never a hard sell. But one dinner with them brings back all these emotions and memories of growing up this way and it's somewhat disturbing to recount.

To start, we walk in and I immediately excused myself to the restroom while the other 3 were seated. I have been drinking a lot of water, as always, so constantly in need. Plus, sitting down and being able to mess with my drains is always helpful so I take care of that. By the time I returned to the table I found they had already ordered appetizers. Some vegetarian spring rolls (called "egg rolls" by my grandparents) and edamame (which they called "wasabis" - yes plural). They had ordered the edamame without salt which usually comes on the outside of it for flavor, understandable and not too crazy of a request. My cousin and I decided to split 3 sushi rolls between the 2 of us (oh, I should mention she is banded too) and my grandparents ordered a fountain of wonton soup and a rack of lamb to split. From this moment on, as food started arriving, the table was an overcrowded 3-ring circus of food induced chaos. My grandfather: the ringmaster. Divvying up portions to everyone and helping himself to anything he found appealing no matter whose plate it was on.

The spring rolls and edamame arrived first: 3 spring rolls cut into 2 pieces each. I watched in a bit of horror (truth be told) as he took one of the halves to his small appetizer plate, dumped the entire bowl of sweet-chili dipping sauce on top of it, and attacked it with a knife and fork. I'm not kidding. Attacked it! It was barbaric and I felt sorry for the poor spring roll. The speed at which he did this allowed no other person at the table an opportunity to partake in the dipping sauce or even savor the aesthetic appeal of 3 symmetrical spring rolls on a plate. I felt cheated in a weird way. One of my first thoughts was, "Hey, I like that sauce...I might have actually wanted to use some." Alternately with, "What a pig!" and "Seriously? Am I seeing this? What normal person acts like that?" And then I just found myself laughing at myself and feeling silly. I no more need a spring roll or dipping sauce than I need another hole in my head. But it was an interesting observation that merely eating in the presence of someone so aggressive with his food made me want to be faster and more greedy than I ever am under normal circumstances.

Next, the soup came out. We thought it was only for 2 but turned out to be about 5 bowls worth. The waitress brought us each a bowl and my grandfather portioned out some for himself and my grandmother. My cousin went next. I really didn't care for soup but I took a ladle of the broth and a wonton because honestly, it's easier than protesting that I didn't want any. Saying you don't want something in this family is somehow insulting even while wanting to eat something is usually frowned upon. It's a paradox I will never understand. My grandmother has a specific habit of commenting on the health of any food she may be eating, probably to not make herself feel so bad about it. So during the soup portion of the meal we got to hear about how light and healthy the broth was and how it was filled with cabbage and she should add more cabbage to her own broths because it's so healthy. I zoned out for a few minutes while everyone enjoyed (I assume) their soup.

Before we had even finished (ok, before I had finished) our soup, the main course arrived. Rack of lamb with a towering pile of fried rice for my grandparents and 2 plates of sushi (1 roll and 2 rolls accordingly) for myself and my cousin. I took 8 pieces total, knowing I could eat about 6, and left the other 14 for her, knowing my grandfather would likely poach off one of the rolls that didn't contain raw fish. He did, but only one piece which actually surprised me. Let me just say that I enjoyed my sushi immensely. I ate as slowly as I could and chewed it to oblivion which I have come to enjoy doing over my nearly 2 years since banding. I ate 5 of my 8 pieces and knew I'd have to take the rest home. While I tried to be in my own zen place and really enjoy the food to the fullest extent (and succeeded for the most part) I couldn't help but notice my grandfather's behavior from start to finish of his meal. For one thing, he eyed my cousin with a disapproving scowl nearly the whole time. He once in a while smiled at me. I wonder if this had anything to do with his earlier remarks about not recognizing me, me being only a "shadow of what I used to be", saying how great he thought I looked, and asking if my dad was happy with my new body (umm...inappropriate much?) I can only speculate. I don't know. My poor cousin does hear it from family members who compare us against each other since I lost a good deal more than her from my banding. She looks great and happy and I think she is beautiful and doesn't need to change a thing unless she wants to. I think her band will help her maintain her weight for life if she doesn't want to lose more and that's a real gift in and of itself. But anyway, I stray... Back to the meal. As soon as his plate came - oh well actually, as soon as the waitress brought 2 other plates to eat off of, and another trip to the kitchen for serving utensils, - my grandfather attacked the dish with a military-like precision. He gave my grandmother her portion of lamb and rice and then started doing his own. What I noticed throughout the rest of the meal is that he continued to come back to the large serving plate for more bits of this or that while my grandmother picked slowly at what was on her plate. I am not saying he didn't give her adequate food. No, there was just this authoritarian air that made me uncomfortable. I forgot that as soon as our sushi arrived he also started asking (well, that's putting it politely) for a piece of the roll without the raw fish.)

Now here is the most significant takeaway from the meal for me. I am normally very unattached to food. In my everyday life it's just food. I can take or leave most anything and always offer my friends and guests the "best" pieces because honestly, I can't eat so much anyway and I want them to enjoy it. Since getting banded, I tend to pick off other people's plates, take the scraps they don't want rather than wasting money to get myself a full dish (everyone is cool with this or I wouldn't do it.) So in general I'm just not possessive over food. But I wasn't always this way. It's been so long since I was I'd nearly forgotten but tonight a long buried instinct came flooding back. When our sushi arrived I split it between my cousin and I (not evenly, as I knew I couldn't eat as much as she could and didn't want to appear glutinous) but nonetheless I took what I wanted and made sure it was clearly "mine" as soon as possible. I silently begged my grandfather not to start taking any of "my" sushi even though as I already said, I had 3 more pieces than I was capable of eating. I fought myself the entire meal to eat slowly and carefully and not gulp it down out of fear of it being taken away from me should I not eat fast enough. The fact that that was actually a fear in my mind I had to fight against is truly messed up! I realized... this is why food became more than food to me. Food was such an implement of control in my childhood that no wonder I (a control freak) hoarded it, sneaked it, assigned value above and beyond what it did for me biologically to it. And I also realized that in this game, "winning" meant keeping what was "mine" despite the efforts of others to take it away. Eating all "my" food just to spite the person across the table who told me I shouldn't. Wow, how profound. How f-ed up! I hope I can continue to move towards a healthy and loving relationship with food as something of nourishment and enjoyment but not something to be controlled or used to control others. I am very proud of myself for being able to do so tonight despite being in a situation that brought out the opposite in me. Despite it all, I ate only what I actually wanted to eat and stopped when I was satisfied despite the urge to go further if only to insure it would be mine. It's such a drastic difference from how I normally am and how I am when surrounded by people for whom food is simply food and there's no need to go into predator mode to make sure I get my fair share. Now that I can see this for what it is, I think I will have an easier time controlling this behavioral urge in the future.

Anyway, the night ended fine. I got dropped back at my dad's house after dinner and have been relaxing online and writing since then. Writing is so therapeutic, I'm happy I could get this all out before it's time for another pain killer (which means sleep!)