Should This Horse be Buckling at the Knees Like This? Or, Why I am Waiting on Surgery.

Well, it's Monday...and I have made some big decisions about not making any decisions.

I have thought long and hard all weekend. I would love to snap my fingers and be thin. So far, modern technology has only gotten as far as weight loss surgery. After a particularly nasty hour of a bootcamp class that has still left me unable to walk without a deranged limp, I thought this was going to be my only resort in order to get the results I want.

I weighed surgery against continued diet and exercise. Surgery, at first blush, always looks like the more desirable choice. It's faster. It may not be easier at first, but it seems to me it is easier than attending another "Please Lord, just let me die here on this smelly mat" class.

Before talking to anyone, I thought about my weight loss goals and what I wanted to do once the weight was gone. My answers included running a 5k and, maybe eventually, a 10k. I envy my athlete friends who can run 8 miles, 11 miles, even half and full marathons with regularity. I'd love to try a rock climbing wall. I'd like to try hiking...possibly with a little camping thrown in there, but let's not go crazy. Also, my friend Ashley keeps bugging me to get under 250 pounds so we can go horseback riding together. Actually, I am not even sure about that either, but it would be nice to say, "Um...are you out of your fucking mind?" without my main reason being not wanting to take down a majestic animal with all of my heft.

None of these goals really mesh with what I thought was my original goal, which was, "To be wicked skinny and hot and to never be called a fat bitch again!"

It is weird, but as time goes on at the gym, I realize that while I am excited about fitting into jeans that were once too tight, I take way more pleasure in harassing people by asking them to feel whatever new muscle emerged that week. This week, it's a bit of firmness above my elbow at the back of my arms. My arms are a source of hatred for me, and I am very proud of making people squeeze what is emerging just below the layers of fat. Before that, it was my biceps. Before that, my ass and thighs. Basically, if you are in my inner circle, I am going to make you touch me inappropriately to show off my new GLUTES!!!

I love the accomplishments I have made, however marginal. In January, I almost died after 1 minute and 30 seconds on the elliptical machine. Now, I almost die after 45 minutes. My goal is to almost die after an hour. As I lift more weight, try new machines, and work on new movements, I gain a very slight amount of confidence. It's teeny, but it is there, growing slowly. I won't get that kind of satisfaction from surgery.

I told my trainer this today, and I said that I couldn't quite place it, but it seems like surgery would be kind of an empty win for me, personally. I have a few friends who have had the surgery and they look amazing. Would I give anything to be that skinny that fast? Absolutely, I am not kidding myself here. But would it jive with the kind of skinny gal I am striving to be? The athletic one who can run miles, climb giant things, and not tranquilize horses using only the power of my fat ass? Not really...

My husband, Phill, can see the pros and cons of each side of my decision. He is supportive of whatever I choose to do, but says I can do all this after surgery, too. It would be like pushing the starting line a little closer to the finish line. It makes sense. My trainer calls it "cheating". From his view, it also makes sense.

So I have made some sort of compromise in my head: I am already paying for the training sessions, and the recovery time would eat into that. I might have to start over in some respects, while my body recuperates. I might be one of the lucky ones with nasty side effects that affect how I train. So, I have decided to finish the year of training before making any big decisions. If I work really hard and really pay attention to what I am eating, and still see no results, then next year it will be time to move on to more drastic steps.

Also, I read that after 10 years, most people gain weight back after surgery. I know I will be one of those people. Because while I will only be able to eat a certain amount of food, and certain kinds, believe me, one emotional upset and I will try to shove in whatever fits down there. Until I gain confidence and self-esteem through accomplishments that matter to me, and until I learn better responses to being upset, no amount of surgery is going to permanently fix me.

It is how I got here in the first place. Paxil was going to be the easy way out of my anxiety attacks, and instead I ended up 130 pounds heavier...and still panicking after I went off it. Rather than take another fast fix, I need to slow down and really work on the things that are standing in my way...so they won't stand in my way for the rest of my life.

...And then I can get back on the horse.