The Very Beginning......

For the record this picture isn't me. Her name is Blythe and she represents everything that I am not. She is petite, she's stylish and she's beautiful. Actually I'm going to add that she's confident, well, she is in my head. Frankly she is a whole lot nicer to look at than a photo of me and for the sake of the integrity of this blog I think anonymity is probably the best option.

So, down to business. It is 11 days until I undergo banding or, to give it it's full title, laparoscopic adjustable gastric banding. And, for the record, I am scared.

This blog is for entirely selfish reasons, I'm going to need something to do to take my mind off food. It'll be nice to have a record of my journey and, I guess, there may be people who might find it useful.

I'll get it out of the way now. I'm an addict. Food is my addiction. It is my nemesis, my friend, it keeps me busy when I'm bored, it makes me calm when I'm stressed and it makes me happy when I'm sad. It also takes up far too much of my time mentally and causes me a ridiculous amount of distress. I love it and I loathe it. It's my dirty little secret and my excuse for not becoming the woman I dream of being.

I'm not going to bore anyone with all of my weight's ups and downs, suffice to say I am a classic yoyo dieter and I yoyo from 9 stone to 17 stone. I have never been anorexic, or bulimic but, I suppose you could pigeon hole me as a binge eater (or as it is known in my family, greedy). I have been on a diet merry-go-round since I was 13 and I am about to turn 33. 20 years and I ended up 5 stone heavier than when I started - oh the bitter irony. I totally acknowledge that there are many people who would like to be as light as 17 stone but, in my experience, sometimes your actual weight is irrelevant. I know I have, at various points in my life, been more distressed at being 11 stone than at being 14 stone. Go figure!

So here I am, finally choosing weight loss surgery as a bit of a last resort. I'm aware that many people have negative feelings about weight loss surgery but, as anybody who has had it or is considering it will tell you, it is not an easy decision to make. Nor is it an 'easy option'. I am well aware that it is a physical treatment for a psychological issue. But, how long can the human psyche tolerate repeated failure? I once heard somebody say that the definition of idiocy is repeating the same action whilst expecting a different outcome. I'll hold my hand up and announce to the world that I am indeed an idiot. I may have won small battles with my weight but they've been short-lived, and ultimately, the war on weight was slowly being lost. So it's time to bring out the big guns. Surgery to try and get some reasonable portion control and this blog to vent my spleen when my mind is being crazy.

So what have I tried?

1. Counting calories. My introduction and the start of the slippery slope. I still believe in it though and know that the basic equation of reduced calories = weight loss is how one ultimately loses weight. How you go about reducing those calories is another story.
2. Gall Stones. Ok, not strictly a diet method but I'd managed to give myself gallstones by the age of 16 and for 5 years (until they were diagnosed) they did act as a painful means of weight control.
3. Amphetamines and Ecstasy. I said I would be candid so I ask you please not to judge me. I was a child of the rave era - what can I say? I wouldn't drink anything as alcohol contained the dreaded 'empty calorie' and here was a pill or a powder that made me feel fantastic, gave me energy to dance all night and took away my appetite. At times I took the amphetamines and simply cleaned the house very quickly, feeling thinner by the minute. This was a lifetime ago and I haven't taken anything since I was a wild, young thing.
4. Ionamine (prescription diet pill). At the age of 21 my new neighbour offered a post-operative (gallbladder removed), ballooning 14 1/2 stone girl a new magic solution. He ran a slimming clinic that employed a doctor to prescribe these prescription only diet pills. Basically they were simply legal speed in my opinion and made me both thin and quite bonkers. Quite rightly they have been withdrawn from prescription.
5. Overeaters Anonymous. This was while I was living in London. Several very famous 'happy' heavyweight celebrities attended the various meetings. It didn't help me and I couldn't hand over responsibility for my eating behaviour to a higher power. The only person responsible for me eating 4 Cadbury's Twirls in under 10 minutes was me. I know the 12 steps works for some people but it simply wasn't my bag.
6. Prozac. I read somewhere that it reduced the appetite and so I requested it from my GP. It didn't help reduce my weight but I was noticeably less distressed about it. This request for Prozac in turn lead to number 7.
7. Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. I was glad the GP was offering help but the Eating Disorders Unit only really dealt with Anorexia and Bulimia. I was just fat and felt like a fraud for taking up their time. In retrospect, I didn't engage with the therapy and in an effort to be seen as successful (and discharged) I said what the therapist wanted to hear. I finished my 16 weeks of Out-Patient appointments 2 stone heavier and with the invasive thought that the In-Patient anorexics could be using me as inspiration not to eat.
8. Obesity Life Line. Or Lighter-Life as its now known. Again, initially it was brilliant but the powdered soups and vile nutrition bars slowly caused me to lose the will to live. Greedy girl took over and at my 26th Birthday Party I more or less polished off a whole Entermans Carrot Cake. I was too ashamed to go back.
9. Slimming World. How I wish Slimming World truly worked. The idea that you could eat unlimited amounts of 'free food' was like music to my ears. I stuck to it, I wrote everything down that I ate and I did lose 3 stones but there are only so many baked potatoes (served only with pickled onions) that you can eat before the weight starts to creep back on. I had 'words' with my group leader who accused me of cheating. I was most indignant, I had stuck religiously to the 'rules' and was gaining 1/2 lb a week. As most rational people will realise - there is no such thing as a (syn) free lunch. Eat enough of anything and you will get fat. End of.
10. Falling in love. At the age of 30 I truly fell in love. This kept me motivated to keep trim and exercise but despite the most gorgeous, sensitive soul mate, I soon became contented and used the excuse that if I didn't provide delicious goodies and meals then he would lose weight. The result? Well Jack Sprat remains slim and healthy, whilst I am a little, round pudding.

Which brings me to the present day. At 16 stones the final straw that has made me seriously assess what I have done to myself and why I need to conquer this addiction is my health and my fertility. As a result of the yoyo dieting I have developed Polycystic Ovary Syndrome, Type II Diabetes and hypertension. In the space of 6 months I've gone from no tablets to rattling with the amount I am now on and the impending threat of insulin injections if I can't control my blood sugars as soon as possible (currently they stick at 15 regardless of all the tablets - s**t, s**t, s**t). I love my Jack Sprat and I desperately want his babies but I also want to be around to see them grow up.

So gastric banding it is. Is this just another fad to add to my list? Well I am going to say no. This is something that I chickened out of 3 years ago and something that I am doing after a huge amount of soul searching. I am doing it with an informed mind and realistic expectations. Ultimately I am doing this to save my life and try and free myself from my self-imposed prison of obesity........ I should have warned you there'd be melondrama.