Chew on this

ahhhh.  It's wonderful you know.  The world of chewing.

The good news is that I didn't chip a tooth, and the food tasted great.  The trouble is that by the time you finish chewing your miniscule blueberry size bites, well, you're so dang tired of chewing, that really...you half wish you could go back and do really good purees.

Yes you heard me - I love cooking enough that the only way I managed to survive purees was by carbing them up a bit and adding a pile of flavour.  That meant though that while visually unappealing as they were, the taste made up for it.

So food was deeply missed over the last 3 weeks. and is being immensely enjoyed once more, but not nearly in the quantities it once was.  I often recall looking at what the recommended food servings were by the Canada Food Guides perspective, and thinking "Shyeah.  Right.  No normal human being that I know of eats that little and feels satisfied."   I wasn't wrong.  The quantity of food I ate before at any given meal wasn't abnormal or excessive.  My problem has always always always been the snacking in between.  It would be nothing for me to eat a full large bag of chips in a given day.  I'd start munching away at them in the morning while I toiled away on compiling metrics, crafting messages, and generating reports.  And then I'd have lunch, and get back into the swing of working, and if I didn't have any other meetings, and was busy working away independently, my hand would find their way back into that chip bag, and before long, it would be time to pick up my daughter and get started on pulling the family supper together.  The calories I piled in during the space between meals is what was killing me.  And worse even during peak stress times and when I was called upon to strategize a solution to a big issue.

Now, it's a guarantee that I'll be snacking.  I have to.  Because the meals I'm eating would make you cry if you saw the quantity of food they contain...well, that is, if you're normal and not already banded.  But the total quantity of food I'm going to have in a given day is going to be what a normal person would eat in just 3 hearty meals each day.  Or less even if I'm well behaved and choose wisely.  But I feel full.  And that is key.

The surgeon told me he wants his patients to feel about food, the way they feel about air.  You absolutely need it to survive, but it's so plentiful that you take it for granted, and don't think about where your next breath is going to come from.  I'm not sure the foodie in me will ever let go of some of the things food does for the human race that go beyond simple sustenance, but at the moment, I feel about as close to that as I could imagine being.  I'm craving salad.  I'm craving fish.  I'm craving non-processed food.  Because it will fill me faster.  Because it will fill me longer.  Because it won't hurt going down.  Because it's what my body needs.

I'll even tell you how I know this is all true.  I bought a bag of chips and dip when out shopping the other day, anticipating the glorious day when I could eat solid foods again, and indulge in some age old addictions. The twisted plan was to satisfy the immediate cravings, reward myself for having lost 30 lbs, reset my resolve and dig back into the regimen heading steadily towards the 60 lb mark.

I'm proud to say, that bag of chips, that container of dip are still untouched.  And I've been on solid foods now for 2 days.  There were bite size tortilla chips already open and a homemade dip in the fridge from a dinner guest we had over the weekend.  I had a slice of cheese pizza that was so disappointing, I wish I hadn't done it.  I've had a small amount of the tortillas and dip today, but yummy as it was, it's done really nothing for me.  I did enjoy my salad with deli roast turkey breast and shredded cheese.  I'm even jonesing for a fish/salad dinner tonight.  That's the stuff I'm eager to eat at the moment.

I feel loco in the cabeza for sure.  But I'll take this kind of crazy any day of the week!

Setting Examples

So I've seen a lot of articles recently that speak to being a better example for our children when it comes to perceptions of our own appearances.  They're poignant and absolutely true.  But the thing is, I've never had the same affliction that some of these women describe when they speak about how the envision themselves, and how the speak about themselves and their appearances in front of their children.

The core point behind the articles is to resolve the nagging voice inside your head that says "you're fat", "you're ugly", or worse "you're stupid", and demonstrate to our children that we in fact feel differently by virtue of how we actually speak out loud in response to those inner voices.  The articles highlight how we envision the absolute and perfected beauty in our children, and fail to see any of that in ourselves.

I read this and suddenly, I feel pretty awesome about myself.  You see, I have those same nagging voices.  Truth is however, they are both true and slightly inaccurate.  Because in my mind, beauty isn't what is outside.  It really never has been.  Nobody's ass is beautiful.  It's an ass.  And those old sad statements of "she has such a pretty face, if she'd only lose the weight" when you actually can't disassociate the two.  At least not in my mind.  If I have a pretty face, well then, c'est touts.  It's a pretty face.  That doesn't change because the size of it is larger or smaller or somehow related to the size of my very ugly ass or the belly that carried and nurtured my child that never somehow went away.  I can honestly say that I never look at an actress or a model on a magazine and say - yep I'd die to look just like her.  I have plenty I'd like to change on my body, don't get me wrong.  But I don't really want to live up to someone else's distorted objectification of beauty - ever.

Beauty, in my mind, is entirely in one's character, which can manifest itself in the brightness of a smile; the twinkle of one's eye; the peak of one's eyebrow; or for that matter, the absolute perfection of any other feature.  But to be clear, none of us are Shakespeare, and one arm is not generally any different than another.  No foot is any less footy than someone else's.  But spirits and characters are either made better or worse by the life experiences they've had.  The outward features of their faces and bodies, are mere reflections of how life has affected the spirit within.

So with that, yes.  My life has worn on my face, my hands and my body.  They take a toll, and if you saw a photo of me without my child in my hands, you would probably see a weary, tired, and less than exuberant mom type person who spends no time cherishing herself, or wearing nice clothes.  In a close up, you would see wrinkled, blemished skin, saddened and heavy eyes.  You would see the subtle downturn at the corners of my lips and a furrowed brow - probably because my mind never stops.  I'm planning and juggling a million thoughts in my head simultaneously every moment of every day, and trying to keep them all straight with one another.  Motherhood represents a level of schizophrenia you could never possibly imagine if you weren't a part of the same sorority.

But if you saw a photo of me with my child, with my husband, with the two people who make my furrowed brow and headache worth wearing every day, you would see exactly what I see.  Infinite beauty and happiness.  Gentle kindness that speaks louder than any wrinkle, blemish or fat ass could yell.  You would see the serenity of a woman who has devoted every breath to sustaining a happy, somewhat healthy family, and who is so very happy, glad, and proud to do it.

And then again, if you were to look at a photo of my husband or my daughter you would see my own beauty.  Because what makes me beautiful, is the light and unparalleled love that I breathe into them every single day, and the light, power and radiance they breathe into me.  And so yes, just like those other bloggers, I see the infinite beauty of my child every single moment of the day, but I also see that it's already a reflection of me.  I see in the way she looks at me, that she feels that way too.  And it never hurts when you're snuggling with her before bedtime and she looks at you, tweaking your cheek and says "you're so cute" of course, either.

At the end of the day however, whatever I do, to modify the way my life's experiences are reflecting on my outward appearance, are always an example of how I'm choosing to live my future.  Not my past.  And this has nothing to do with superficial opinions that what is on my outside is what is "beautiful" or "ugly" or "nondescript" for that matter.  And when I speak to my daughter about what is beautiful, it will always be approached in terms that define it as smart, kind, happy, and wise.  It will always be in terms that help her understand we are all beautiful, even if we don't sometimes see our physical appearance the way we feel it inside.  And I plan to be honest with her that the nagging voices should never have a power over one's view of one's self.  The nagging voices belong to people on the outside who don't have enough self awareness to see the beauty of this world in it's entirety.  They can't appreciate true beauty, because no one's ever shown them their own.

I work to show my daughter every day that her beauty is inside her heart and her mind, and it's in her smile and her laugh.  And I remember every single day that I'm beautiful like that too, even on the days when it's harder to do it.  And the fact that I can proclaim that level of self awareness is something I'm truly grateful for.