An Actor’s Musings

This is an animated version of my surgery. How cool is that? They make it look so easy!

So I’ve been stressing a bit lately thinking that post-op I’m going to totally screw up my life by forgetting to take one vitamin and causing malnutrition. I know it sounds silly but the malabsorptive part of my surgery is a big deal and supplements for the rest of my life are not optional - they are required or I could slowly kill myself. I don’t want to do that….but tell a perfectionist she has to not screw up and that becomes a bit of a mindfuck.

Anyway - someone posted this 15-year study that has helped me relax a bit. Just the results in bold on the first page is all I need to know I’m doing the right thing. Death rate is similar to that of ‘regular’ population, malnutrition was avoidable, and 95% of 1400-odd patients in the study were satisfied with their surgery? Name anything about which 95% of people are satisfied?!

Taking deep breaths.

You can read the whole thing here, if you like.

“These are a few of my favorite texts” is back! If you have not seen these wildly popular posts you can check them out here and here.

And while the rules still apply (I will not divulge the sender of the texts) I must say that a few people were actually vying for space on these updates…..you know who you are…..

Again - my thoughts in italics and texts can be either incoming or outgoing.

“Sheesh - Sarah is a big whiner. Must get it from her dad…” I hope her dad doesn’t read this…

“do you think it’s ominous for both an ambulance and a stanley carpet cleaner van to be at the old folks home at the same time?”

“Happy fag day!”

“some fucker pulled the emerg. break on the subway so we’re sitting 2 feet from the station” ah, NY

“plus i need more cooch powder which is hard to find. don’t even think of putting this on your blog”

“it’s because we’ve read stephen king” what! What is!?

“apparently david’s musical has animal violence. clowns…puppets…mouse death = nightmares.”

“i’m poopin….”

“I feel guilty ’cause just tried to kill a fly. I think i scared it. pms do you think?”

“Hasbro can suck my left tit”

“magnus’ balls are getting bigger!”

“have you ever noticed that He-Man the Prince of Power could be a complete sentence if you put an “is” between “he” and “man”?”

“I am in sticker hell!”

“i’m so in love with bill clinton right now”

“i want her to abuse me bad. i like her brand of therapy”

“moral dilemma. eddie iz will be in a movie w/ tom cruise. do you hate tom more than you love eddie?”

“just walked by jeff goldblum”

“ahmownna git me some DAIRY queen.”

“That movie was so retarded. No comp sci major uses a 4-letter dictionary word for a password. That’th not real.”

“Sitting in a car waiting for a spot u found 2 become legal in fifteen minutes is such a NYer-with-a-car shared experience”

“here’s the problem with fresh direct. pumpkin whoopee pies.”

“i see mouth pain doesn’t kill her sarcasmo tendencies”

“I’m on a bus stuck on the rfk bridge stopped by the police. neat.”

“call your huzbnd, lady.”

“let’s skip the turkey and have cat roast instead”

“walking to the subway last night i literally sneered at people…i should totally play scrooge some day”

“o jesus. hope you feel better. brad will LEAVE you. i’m ordering your bubble right now”

“my asst just wrote night quil in reference to the over the counter medicine”

“Pls call when you’re on the way home - I’ve put the crutch down.”

“we’re at friendly’s. i never realized how trailer park it is. but them milkshakes is GOOD.”

“Haga Haga Haga thats how t9 spells me laughing”

“just reminding i stole your car and will sell for the parts.”

“Yes. I am so tired. At some point we must talk about what fun yesterday was. The actual peaceful transition of power happens tomorrow at 3:00. Then I shall board my helicopter, give one last wave, and fly off into the wide blue yonder - or take the 7 train to Queens - one or the other”

“my mouth is too tired to make consonant sounds. i sound like anita baker, but talking not singing”

“There is a creepy mccreeperton in my massage wkshp whose reason for taking massage is to treat his future gf well. and he thought our massage demo was sensual.”

“We should TOTALLY stock up on pork chops & bacon next week. Gonna be cheap.” (this would be after the swine flu hit and the reply was laughter followed by….)
“Who’s joking? It’ll be like a huge sale on pork products. but only for non-morons!”

“Just letting you know I’m sitting in Washington Square Park. Yes, I’m just that early. You know, this park is not nearly as nice as I remember it.”

“gay gay gay gay doesn’t stop talking”

“Totally found a way to use being a fat girl: on LIRR 3 seater, sit next 2 another fat person and no one will even think about trying 2 sit inbetween!”

“why is dave grohl so hot”

“I’m IMing you” is texting that to someone irony?

“U r a dirty whore”

I’m not sure the following will make sense to anyone else, but I’m going to report it as it happened.

First a fellow DSer (also a pre-op) was telling me how she deals with people who don’t quite understand what it means to be fat for a large part of our population. I will take a page from her book and ask you all to watch the following PBS video at your leisure:

FAT: What No One Is Telling You

I did. And I felt overwhelmed. I can’t think of any easy way to describe it. It’s like being told that your gay because you choose it. Or bad things happen to you because you aren’t good enough. Or in my case, being fat is your fault. You aren’t really trying.

And then you realize this isn’t true. You’re gay because you’re gay. You’re fat because you’re fat. Bad things happen because bad things happen. And you say it loud and proud. You say it until you turn blue…because so many people don’t seem to be listening (and maybe ultimately you’re trying to convince yourself anyway).

Then I watched this documentary that includes studies and doctors and personal journeys….it’s not like these aren’t thing you didn’t know or hadn’t heard before but there they are…all in one place.

It felt like more than I could handle. It felt like it was alternately trying to crush or suffocate me or rip me apart. It felt, again, like the seams ripped a bit more. Like my identity was going to change…..

Which led to……

Identity change. What does that even mean? I know it’s what I’m experiencing but I also can’t figure out in what way. I don’t FEEL super invested in an identity as ‘the fat girl’. I’ve never felt like that encompassed all of who I am. I never even felt like I’d be sad to not be fat (which is common)

But….

Every day of my life, every meal for 37 years: “am I doing the right thing to not be fat anymore?” And if the answer was “no” then “should I feel guilty over what I’m eating?” or even “fuck you world, I’ll eat whatever I want until it hurts because I’ll never lose weight anyway”. And on and on it goes. 37 years. So my identity hasn’t been ‘I am a fat girl’. My identity has been ‘I am struggling to not be a fat girl’.

So the question - the big big big super huge oh my god this might kill me question:

Who am I if I’m not struggling to lose weight?

My life has been all about weight loss or hating myself for not losing weight or never believing I could be loved without losing weight or not going to an audition because they don’t want a fat girl or making peace with not losing weight and trying to accept being a fat girl or feeling inspired to try once again….

so when the struggle is laid to rest…..who the hell am I?

That scares the shit out of me.

(thanks for the title, Russell)

Several people have asked me if I planned to blog about my experiences having weight loss surgery. My answer was always ‘yes’, but I’ve been in a holding pattern so there hasn’t been much to say….I’m still in a holding pattern although nearing the end.

I had my re-test for h pylori today which involved taking a deep breath and exhaling into a funky little bag, then drinking some very 7-up tasting stuff, waiting 15 minutes and doing it again. I will find out in five days if the results are negative (they should be! I did 45 days of treatment: 15 days of 8 pills a day and then 30 days of one pill a day….I can absolutely tell a difference and I didn’t even know anything was wrong. Hope for the best!) Once that is negative, I can schedule my surgery. Should have my surgery date by early next week and still hoping for early June.

And considering it’s half way through May - wow does that make me nervous! If I get an early June date that means my life will be filled with tests and pokes and prods and housecleaning and a quick trip to Boston for a girl-outing at the chocolate buffet. Even saying it makes me feel a little jittery inside. It’s still the right thing for me to do, I have as much information as I can have and not one doctor (or person for that matter) has said “I think this is a bad idea”. To the contrary, every doctor thinks this is a great idea for me. Thinking about how much there will be to do before surgery leaves me feeling a bit overwhelmed but….considering I’ll have not much to do for about 30 days afterward….

I’m starting to mourn a few things: Pasta. Full glass of ice cold skim milk chugged in one breath. Donuts. Which is funny ’cause I can’t remember the last time I ate a donut. But even so. I’ll miss you donuts.

In the next month - I am reborn, quite literally. I have to re-learn how to eat, what my body can tolerate, how my body will process vitamins/minerals, what happens when I lose weight, how my career changes in the long run. I didn’t expect tears regarding this - but yet, here they are.

I’m starting to figure out that my focus has to completely shift. Much of my focus has to be on me: not the cats, not the housework that isn’t done, not potentially moving……on me. And MAN do I have trouble with that. So. Much. Trouble. I have a very hard time letting go and falling back and believing someone will catch me and hold me up and take almost complete care of my needs. It’s a control freaks worst nightmare.

So - here it is, friends. I need to be taken care of. I need to face an identity change head-on. I need to cry and inappropriately laugh (my favorite) and be afraid and spend too much time focused on my own crap without feeling guilty for talking so much about me. And I need it for at least the next two months.

I’m just barely feeling the seams of who I am beginning to rip apart. It’s scary. I’m scared. I’m happy and excited, but I’m also scared.

Yesterday I was on Facebook (awwww, Facebook, what would we do without you?) and I ended up perusing photos a very attractive and popular guy (star football player if I remember correctly) from high school had scanned in from the yearbook. Not of me - but of people I saw around school - his gang. They were friends of friends (of friends). I knew who these people were. They were high school. They were the kids the teachers will remember. The coaches. They were the core of my class.

They might remember me if someone mentioned getting out of class to go see ‘You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown’. I was Lucy. The day we performed for the school the front of my dress was open and I had no idea until I was off-stage and Tiffany ran down from the booth to button me up.

I was a music and drama kid. I hung out with music and drama people. Mostly music. I laughed a lot and cried a lot and sang a lot and I desperately wanted people to like me. I was totally uncomfortable in my skin and was very needy and would do anything you asked. If you made fun of me (and I had my share), I’d cry. I hadn’t learned anger yet, except when it came to my mother. I felt trapped and if you were my good friend, you had total control over me. I believed completely that I was not pretty and that I had very little value except as a good friend so I worked my ass off to be the very best friend I could be and that meant giving away all my power. I was completely intimidated by all of the people in those pictures - but mostly they existed way outside my zone.

I don’t regret those years - they were what they were and I had to go through them to get to now - but man did they hurt.

Looking at the pictures was almost surreal. I can’t imagine where all these laughing, smiling, healthy, attractive, shiny, self-assured people went to school. I even went so far as to look at the pictures and think “Well, these people would like me now - I’m a fun, good, interesting person with a great life and I’m a great conversationalist and I believe I’m worthy…..”

Then it happened. A picture of a bunch of people at a party. There was a pool and bathing suits and sun. The caption said something about it being a ‘Senior class party’. In a comment it was mentioned that two of their gang weren’t in the pictures and how could they not show up to their own ’senior class party’.

I’m sorry - there was a senior class party?

At that moment I realized. I’m good where I am - but I’m also weird. I’m a weird girl. Always have been, always will be. 75% of people don’t get me. I’m so insular and happy and close-knit in the family I’ve created as an adult - surrounded by people that laugh at the same things I do. That like it when I’m silly. That get it when I cry. That read the same books I do and have the same political leanings……I got so comfortable in that place that for one minute…..I thought I might be cool.

But it’s all good. I’m so ok not being cool. I don’t need cool. I revel in my nerdiness.

I think of it this way - even though I’m extremely social, I have a tendency towards making jokes people don’t get or saying things better kept to myself or stating my opinion too loudly or sounding bossy when I don’t mean to…..but where the hell do you think all the great stories of the world come from? Shiny, healthy, attractive people that are never socially awkward? Nah. I’ve got banana-on-my-chin-in-front-of-hot-firemen stories to share and crazy-mother tales to tell and surgeon-squeezing-my-belly anecdotes to relay. Sharing the ‘poop on the floor’ story to two or three people I don’t know very well might be awkward but they’re just the first audience. It’ll slay ‘em on stage.

“The only true currency in this bankrupt world… is what you share with someone else when you’re uncool.” - Lester Banks in Almost Famous

It’s been an interesting last five days. Great weekend - but before the weekend…..

Endoscopy and colonoscopy (I could scan in pictures of both - send requests!). My colon is ’squeaky clean’ according to my doctor and my stomach looks great but I have a sliding hiatal hernia that can be fixed during my switch surgery. I also have mild damage from acid reflux that will heal before the surgery through some drug he gave me.

I wish my gastroenterologist, Dr. Paulo Pacheco, could be ALL of my doctors. I love him so much. I want to hang out with him. I want to have him over for dinner. I want him to write a paper about my liver just so we can hang out more. If you’re in NY and you have any issues with which he can help - I highly recommend. He and his highly amusing and sweet anesthesiologist (which I named ‘Dr. Feelgood’) can knock me out and put tubes down my throat and up my bum any day.

Probably more interestingly - Matt, Tab and I went to have massages at Graceful Services. We found out that:
1 - No matter what the sign says, Matty and I are not capable of ‘not talking’ in the waiting area.
2 - Given the option of being embarrassed because she’s ‘caught’ not wearing underwear by a man she doesn’t know and will never see again who is giving her a reflexology massage OR whispering around the curtain to her half-naked best friend to hand over the yellow with pink polka-dots underwear said best friend is currently wearing - Tab will, in fact, (despite her world-renowned squeamishness around germs) opt for the latter.
3 - A tiny Asian woman crawling all over my naked back during my hot stone massage to put her knees in the middle of my spine and slap my calves and thighs with the tops of her feet is surprisingly relaxing.
4 - I know loads of people think massages are sexual but I realized for me they are very maternal - it’s why I like to have women do them. I think they fill a need of caring and gentleness through touch that I just didn’t get as a child. I realize it’s misplaced but I’m ok with that.
5 - Asian trannies are just prettier than other flavors.
6 - The back of Clay Aiken’s head sitting at a post-massage diner looks exactly like I expected it to.

Major shout out (do people still do shout outs?) to Erica for the recommendation of Gentle Services! We plan on going again and again.

And FINALLY (ok this post didn’t turn out to be quite the snapshot I was planning), yesterday Brad took me to the Roerich Museum on the upper west side. At first I was looking at all of his paintings up close but before we left I realized his landscapes of the Himalayas are best seen from far away - as far as you can get and still see the painting clearly. They were brilliant at a distance. Breathtaking.

Oh - one note: if you’re at a museum looking at paintings of a renowned but very intense looking Russian painter from the early 20th century up close and you see someone’s hair on the painting - don’t reach out and take it off the painting like you would off of someone’s sweater without thinking about it because it’s probably the beard hair of the guy who did the painting stuck in the paint as you might realize when you look around at the other paintings and see, if you look close enough, his hair is in several of them. Whoopsie. I probably ruined it.

Pictures online don’t even begin to do the real things justice, however we purchased two prints:

St. Panteleimon the Healer

Hermitage of St. Sergius

I still want:

Ashram

Glory to the Hero

Kuan-yin

Lovely NY weekend in the spring. If it would act like spring.

A while back I wrote a very long blog entry called “Odd-body”. As is my way, I outwardly processed and had some great revelations about myself in that blog. Since then, new realizations have come up.

Not long after I wrote that, Brad and I were driving back from Boston and had an important conversation for me. I’d been mulling over ideas in my head…..feelings that were brewing and stewing. I was finally able to put into words how I’d been feeling about the idea of having weight loss surgery. I reacted strongly when the doctor mentioned it - there was a lot of resistance to it and even considering it felt like failure. My head couldn’t stop processing that resistance (for me, strong resistance usually means there is more to look at).

I felt like if I try to lose weight the toughest way possible (1000 calories a day, two hours of working out, a handful of pills) then I wouldn’t be cheating……because it’s my penance. I HAVE to do it the hard way because something deep inside still believed I failed….that it’s my fault and I’m not doing what I’m deserve to unless I make the weight loss as difficult and arduous and long-suffering as possible. Just saying it to Brad - there was a huge weight lifted.

His reply, “Are you sure you’re not catholic?”

At that point - something shifted. I realized that I’d begun to purge those self-blaming vampires bit by bit. That was a big chunk. In that moment I realized I needed to look at all my options.

For the last month I have been researching weight loss surgeries like it’s my second job. After looking over procedures, published reports and case studies I’ve decided to have something called a “Duodenal Switch”. (Read that link if you want the details of the surgery or if you are so inclined - go here to actually watch it performed by one of the top surgeons in the country.)

I think it’s a fascinating surgery. Brad referred to it yesterday as a ‘more elegant solution’ than some of the other surgeries. I agree - for me that is true. Each person is different but this is the only surgical alternative I could get behind.

Yesterday I met with the doctor and signed the papers for surgery. Last week I had a psych evaluation and tomorrow I meet with the nutritionist. Next week I have an endoscopy and a colonoscopy (want to come?!). After that, my case worker at our insurance company gets the paperwork, we get the approval and then set up the date (I’m looking to late May/early June).

I’m scared, nervous, excited and super-psyched all at the same time. This is no cake-walk for sure and I will basically have to re-learn a lot about my new life starting after this surgery. But for the first time in my entire life, weight loss does not feel like an insurmountable obstacle. I will run that marathon. I will no longer have PCOS (the stats on this are incredible). I will not get diabetes. If only those things were true and I did not lose weight….I would still have the surgery.

Last week in therapy I had a huge understanding of my life up to this point. When I am thinner I want to treat the memory of the last 37 years of my life with grace. I refuse to hate the fat girl. She served a wonderful purpose. She fought to survive and thrive. She met an amazing man and married him. She has grown tremendous friendships and battled demons and slayed dragons. She deserves all of my respect and love and I will not judge her based on the fact that she has been an overweight woman for 37 years.

As my therapist and I talked about this and about how much I used to hate myself for being fat - the self-loathing , the horrible self-esteem - my therapist pointed out that loads of people who aren’t overweight struggle with those feelings - so why do I feel it was about being fat?

Ding ding ding!

She’s so right. I would have hated myself, fat or skinny. But the fat was easy to blame…when the fat was never, ever at fault. When I was a binge eater, it was because it was an easy out. I wasn’t fat because I was a binge eater - I was fat because of my body make-up….so why not binge eat anyway? Why not punish myself for not being able to change this thing I hated?

I made a choice in my 20s to be self-aware and to work through self-hatred. It is an extremely difficult thing to overcome. It hurt - but the fat girl handled it. I will continue to strive towards self-awareness for the rest of my life but I’m also really happy where I am and with who I am.

I am sure now, that the intense need I had to focus on who I am inside was because I never truly believed I could take off the weight on my own. It was a wall that was impossible to climb because of the biological hand I was dealt - trying and trying and trying to climb it proved that. So focus on who I am…..be a better person.

Now there is an answer and a crack in the wall. I still have to break it down - but now it is possible. And I am elated and also sure that what lies inside me is still the same. And is solid. And is ready. Satnam = true name, true self. The core of who I am continues no matter my size.

My biggest fear in posting this is about judgment. I was afraid that in telling people they would think I was ‘giving up’ or ‘taking the easy way out’. I don’t blame people for thinking that - I thought it too. But I don’t think it any more and for me, writing this is just one more vampire down.

Putting up old pictures on Facebook my brother Carl sent to me has left me feeling melancholy. I miss my dad. I see a teensy girl that had no idea family would be so hard and messed up. I see so much hope and innocence. I feel a lot of empathy for my mom in those pictures. And for me and my siblings - we were so perfect back then. I see people I love before it became tainted with messy choices.

I was barely aware of it at the time, I was so young….but I feel wistful for all that those pictures represent.

I’m so madly in love with my husband and I can’t keep it in. The last four or so months of our relationship have been incredible. We’ve found this new place that is easy and rich and hilarious and comfortable and sexy and makes me feel incredibly cherished. He makes me feel cherished.

We’ve lived together for nine years this month, married for eight and a half. In that time we’ve had to learn to fight (and I mean FIGHT), to listen, to stay in the room, to find some kind of peace around the other not understanding your point of view.

That may well be the hardest thing about being married: accepting that sometimes you just don’t understand one another and that hurts. It’s so painful to have the very person you love so much and gets you on so many levels…..not get you, especially for two sensitive people. It’s a raw, achy pain and there’s nothing to be done about but let it go and lick the wound.

But we did learn those things and continue to learn those things. We have both taken enormous strides in our personal development that have brought us here.

And here we are. I’m so excited for our future and I’m enormously smitten with this man.

I want to tell the world that he’s mine mine mine and I’m so happy.