most people, when they hear this phrase, immediately jump to the idea of intermittent success, like a basketball team (say, our hometown Mystics) falling short of an undefeated season. for my purposes, i would submit a different interpretation, which follows.
since my surgery, i've lost 23 lbs (32 total since beginning the pre-op diet), and i'm feeling pretty great...at least right now. last weekend, i fell victim to a super-aggressive, sudden-onset sinus/ear infection, which required equally assertive antibiotics (in the form of that old standard, the Z-pak) to tame. while i was at the walk-in clinic receiving both diagnosis and cure, the doctor asked me if i'd been hospitalized recently. i told her about the little incident in Costa Rica, and she informed me that the human body is incredibly vulnerable in the weeks following a major surgery, because the immune system kind of gets stretched to its limits. for this reason, it has become common practice for anesthesia teams to administer prophylactic antibiotics intravenously prior to the procedure (this happened to me, too), the idea being that they will serve as a buffer for any possible infection that might result from the incisions, etc. this is all great, and i'm heartily in favor of such practices. apparently, however, those supercharged IV antibiotics sort of check out once the procedure is over, leaving the immune system to fend for itself after about a week. hence, the sinus infection i contracted met only nominal resistance when it attacked my body - something similar to what the German army experienced in April of 1940, when their invasion of Denmark was completed less than six hours later (the shortest military campaign of all time).
in any event, while i was lying in bed last Sunday (praying for a swift departure from this world, if i'm honest), it occurred to me to be indignant that my body would respond to such a decisive action toward overall health (the surgery) with such unmitigated misery. i couldn't believe it. i had traveled thousands of miles in an effort to take control of a rapidly worsening situation and what did i get in return? piles and piles of sodden Kleenex and a West African drum ensemble practicing in my face. once my head cleared enough for me to analyze the situation somewhat more objectively, i realized that it's only natural; i had put my body through serious trauma (voluntarily, and without its consent), and in return, it was slavishly devoting all available resources to healing the affected areas, necessarily leaving others (like everything that wasn't my digestive system) critically vulnerable.
since i kicked the sinus infection, i've been feeling much better, though i'm told (by my devoted and wonderful Sue) it will take quite a while before i feel 100%. my body seems to be bouncing back quite efficiently, especially since i've been able to consume the occasional food that requires chewing. in any event, my point for today's entry is this: what happened to me is a natural expression of the order of things, and is easily applicable to the state of our Union at this moment. while nearly $450 billion of our nation's budget is diverted to the war in Afghanistan (and the rebuilding, etc., of Iraq), other areas are necessarily suffering. it's easy to speculate that we wouldn't be in a recession if we had never gone back into Iraq, lo those many years ago, and that our nation's economy would be booming along like China, and that our trade deficit would have been slashed in half by now, thanks to the diligence and fortitude of American manufacturing. wouldn't it be nice? the fact is, though, that this is still speculation - i'm sure, for example, that the Dept of Defense could have found something else to spend all that green on.
i'm not going to pontificate on what we should be doing, but I was struck by the correlation between my own experience and what i see in our country right now. once my body decides that my digestive system is no longer in danger of oozing out of my pores, the balance will be restored (sinus germs beware!!). i fear it will be a much longer time before the same can be said of the US - balance aside, how long before we remember to allocate some resources to rebuilding our own country?
Monday, August 23, 2010
Friday, August 13, 2010
don't ask, don't tell...
after this week's events - the discharge of an accomplished Army Captain from service and the resignation of one of West Point's top 10 cadets on the basis of their respective sexual orientations - i feel compelled to 'weigh' in on the subject (pun very much intended). rachel maddow's candid and incisive analysis of this issue (http://maddowblog.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2010/08/12/4873685-maddow-to-president-stand-up-for-what-is-right-because-you-know-it-is-right) is even more powerful for its truth. President Obama has two options for ending the policy, with or without the support of Congress or the Joint Chiefs: executive order, as used by Truman to desegregate the armed forces (against all indications from 'studies' conducted by specialists to assess the effect of such an action on morale, effectiveness, etc); or the 'stop-loss' doctrine (which essentially gives the Commander-in-Chief the ability to suspend any law or regulation relating to promotion/separation of any personnel whose service he considers to be vital to the national security of the United States). Both of these options are enforceable by the President and he doesn't need approval from anyone to make them the law of the land.
very few would argue that desegregation of the armed forces was a bad idea, especially now. maybe the 93% of soldiers 'interviewed' for the 1947 study (presented to Truman before he issued Executive Order 9981) who said they opposed desegregation would say otherwise, but the evidence simply states otherwise. as such, it really bothers me that President Obama doesn't seem to have the guts to take a stand on the issue, even though i can identify the source of his reluctance. with mid-term elections coming up, he doesn't want to endanger the campaigns of those members of Congress to whom he is beholden for pushing through some of the most ambitious pieces of legislation any President's first term (not to mention first two years) has ever seen. because those legislative victories have far-reaching benefits for people i care about, i am glad of the ambition that got them signed into law; however, i feel that ending the DADT policy is actually less of a gamble than the Wall Street reform, healthcare plan, and (despite its incredible impact on my personal future) the new student loan policies put together. there is no evidence to indicate that LGBT personnel serving in the military is detrimental to morale - on the contrary, more cases are coming to light every week of gay and lesbian soldiers serving openly within their units, with the result of increased cohesion and trust within those ranks. with such clear proof in favor of ending the policy, forgive me for considering it a no-brainer.
remarkably, this actually leads me to my purpose for posting today. the trend of childhood obesity in the United States is 'deeply troubling' to almost anyone you ask - who can see the overweight children in our elementary schools struggling to run a lap around a gym, or watch the new reality show 'Too Fat for 15' and not be moved? yes, starting the fight against childhood obesity at the federal level is another no-brainer. as one who used to be an overweight child, i respectfully submit that there is even less ambition required to enact solid policies to protect the next generation against the currently inevitable future they face. the behaviors i learned as a child - whether taught by the 3-times-a-week pizza with fries served in my school's lunchroom or the seven soda machines located in my high school - helped guide me to my current situation. thankfully, i had the resources to change my direction before my youth could no longer protect me. as you might imagine, that won't be the case for the millions of children suffering from obesity right now. therefore, my proposal is simple and twofold: overhaul the school-lunch program (relatively easy to do) and implement a positive-body-image program for kids, beginning in kindergarten.
we've all been there: the playground at school during recess, where, inevitably, some poor individual known to his classmates simply as 'the fat kid,' is relentlessly teased and mocked because of his (or her) size. i can personally attest to the results of this particular brand of cruelty - it leads to the belief that you'll never be good enough, and subconsciously, you start to self-insulate. it's a simple psychological phenomenon: the child uses uses food to create a perceived physical barrier to any type of threat they might encounter in the world that has told them they are less. a textbook self-fulfilling prophecy. that's what happened to me, and it's happening to kids everywhere. please understand, i'm not advocating a nationwide 'you're OK no matter what you look like' campaign. i'm advocating a 'you are valuable to yourself and the world, and we want you to be around for a long, long time so you can contribute your unique gifts' campaign, because that's what every kid (and most adults, though a lot of them wouldn't admit it to you) needs to hear. it's not enough to tell kids that they should be healthy by showing them what 'healthy people' look like. they need to know that you want them to lead a healthy life because they have something that's all their own to share with the world. kids need to understand that personal value is not inversely proportional to one's clothes size (i.e., the higher the size, the lower a person's worth).
as i consider the journey before me, i find myself walking a little taller - i've lost more than 20 lbs so far, and i feel great. i've always been comfortable in my own skin, for the most part, but coupled with that comfort was a sort of complacency about what i'd be able to accomplish. i believe that i have something great that i can do in this world, and i may even be around long enough to to see it. every kid should be able to look into their future and see the same thing.
very few would argue that desegregation of the armed forces was a bad idea, especially now. maybe the 93% of soldiers 'interviewed' for the 1947 study (presented to Truman before he issued Executive Order 9981) who said they opposed desegregation would say otherwise, but the evidence simply states otherwise. as such, it really bothers me that President Obama doesn't seem to have the guts to take a stand on the issue, even though i can identify the source of his reluctance. with mid-term elections coming up, he doesn't want to endanger the campaigns of those members of Congress to whom he is beholden for pushing through some of the most ambitious pieces of legislation any President's first term (not to mention first two years) has ever seen. because those legislative victories have far-reaching benefits for people i care about, i am glad of the ambition that got them signed into law; however, i feel that ending the DADT policy is actually less of a gamble than the Wall Street reform, healthcare plan, and (despite its incredible impact on my personal future) the new student loan policies put together. there is no evidence to indicate that LGBT personnel serving in the military is detrimental to morale - on the contrary, more cases are coming to light every week of gay and lesbian soldiers serving openly within their units, with the result of increased cohesion and trust within those ranks. with such clear proof in favor of ending the policy, forgive me for considering it a no-brainer.
remarkably, this actually leads me to my purpose for posting today. the trend of childhood obesity in the United States is 'deeply troubling' to almost anyone you ask - who can see the overweight children in our elementary schools struggling to run a lap around a gym, or watch the new reality show 'Too Fat for 15' and not be moved? yes, starting the fight against childhood obesity at the federal level is another no-brainer. as one who used to be an overweight child, i respectfully submit that there is even less ambition required to enact solid policies to protect the next generation against the currently inevitable future they face. the behaviors i learned as a child - whether taught by the 3-times-a-week pizza with fries served in my school's lunchroom or the seven soda machines located in my high school - helped guide me to my current situation. thankfully, i had the resources to change my direction before my youth could no longer protect me. as you might imagine, that won't be the case for the millions of children suffering from obesity right now. therefore, my proposal is simple and twofold: overhaul the school-lunch program (relatively easy to do) and implement a positive-body-image program for kids, beginning in kindergarten.
we've all been there: the playground at school during recess, where, inevitably, some poor individual known to his classmates simply as 'the fat kid,' is relentlessly teased and mocked because of his (or her) size. i can personally attest to the results of this particular brand of cruelty - it leads to the belief that you'll never be good enough, and subconsciously, you start to self-insulate. it's a simple psychological phenomenon: the child uses uses food to create a perceived physical barrier to any type of threat they might encounter in the world that has told them they are less. a textbook self-fulfilling prophecy. that's what happened to me, and it's happening to kids everywhere. please understand, i'm not advocating a nationwide 'you're OK no matter what you look like' campaign. i'm advocating a 'you are valuable to yourself and the world, and we want you to be around for a long, long time so you can contribute your unique gifts' campaign, because that's what every kid (and most adults, though a lot of them wouldn't admit it to you) needs to hear. it's not enough to tell kids that they should be healthy by showing them what 'healthy people' look like. they need to know that you want them to lead a healthy life because they have something that's all their own to share with the world. kids need to understand that personal value is not inversely proportional to one's clothes size (i.e., the higher the size, the lower a person's worth).
as i consider the journey before me, i find myself walking a little taller - i've lost more than 20 lbs so far, and i feel great. i've always been comfortable in my own skin, for the most part, but coupled with that comfort was a sort of complacency about what i'd be able to accomplish. i believe that i have something great that i can do in this world, and i may even be around long enough to to see it. every kid should be able to look into their future and see the same thing.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Coming home
Today, a few thoughts. First, I experienced our return travel adventure (from San Jose, Costa Rica to DC with a stop in Atlanta) from a new perspective yesterday. Because of my surgery, and in ancillary consideration to my torn meniscus, we requested wheelchair assistance from the airline for the duration of the trip. It was humbling to realize that those who need the most assistance are sometimes the very people who have to wait the longest for things (such as having the wheelchair even arrive at the gate to greet you), and then, as I experienced, to suffer the blatant attention (sometimes pitying, sometimes outright rude) from other passengers traveling at the same time. This was a revelation to me - I can't believe how..childish...a society we live in sometimes. There's that old saying: you can never know a person's journey till you walk (or in my case, ride) a mile in their shoes. That was never more true for me than during our excursion yesterday. From now on, I'm pledging to be more considerate of those whose daily lives include some physical struggle that we can't even conceive of, whether that means allowing people in a wheelchair to see only compassionate interest in my face (not the prurient attempt at pity, or even hostility I saw yesterday) when they pass by in any situation, or simply helping them pick up their cell phone, should it drop to the floor, rather than ignoring their need or acting as if I'm some kind of savior for bending down to help them. What a day.
Next, something a bit more to the point of this blog. I was astonished when I weighed myself this morning. (note: not every installment will include a weight update, because my doctor, nutritionist and MM all said if I weigh myself too often, it will become an obsession and could derail my success, for something as simple as not losing a pound in one week. That said, I plan to weigh myself at the beginning of each week and will report on it at some point during that week's entries.) I have officially lost 22 lbs - this since beginning the heinous pre-op diet two weeks before my surgery, of which several (most?) of you heard me complain, at some points more loudly than others - and I'm teetering on the brink of an achievement I haven't celebrated in nearly a year: exchanging the 3 at the beginning of my weight for a 2. That's right - since my plan for this blog is to be completely honest, I'm going to tell each and every one of you right now that I weighed over 300 lbs as of this year. People who knew this told me I 'carried it well,' which I take to mean that I should be happy I was still ambulatory. In any case, my current weight - 301 lbs - is encouragement of the very best sort.
How many of you have ever made the drive on I-81 (North or South) through Virginia to TN? If you've ever done this drive, you know that it is awful. It's the longest stretch of road in a trip that I have made a thousand times, and the stretch that I have always dreaded the most. See the thing is, I-81 actually has a lot of beautiful scenery, and even more interesting things (such as the intermittent reminder -GUNS!!! - that you are never more than 10 miles from your favorite firearm for sale), along its route. The thing that makes I-81 so terrible is that it is just freaking long. The trip from my house to DC takes about 10 hours, if you're foolish enough to drive it, more than half of which takes place on I-81. 6 hours, to be exact. Top to toe, it's 318 miles to the TN border, and for most of that time, I'm watching the mile markers go by, wistfully enduring the 200's (mostly when heading north) because I know how I will feel when I see that 300-mile mark. I'm almost home!, I'll say to myself. Almost there!
Some of you may be wondering what the hell I'm talking about, which is a pretty normal state of being for me; however, I'm talking about the correlation between I-81 and my current weight - duh! Hovering so close to the 300-mark (and, more importantly, what lies next!) is kind of like heading south on I-81: that 300 means that I have a long journey ahead, but at the end of that journey I'll be at a much happier place than I find myself in right now. GUNS!!! (sorry - I-81 reflex) I'll be at a place where I can truly dominate in my softball league next summer, be the person I've always felt was hiding somewhere underneath all that insulation, and take control of my health for the first time since I walked into a Burger King with a button proclaiming I McDonald's when I was about 6 years old. (a long-standing family joke)
In any case, I'm writing this from my very own sofa at home, and while I do miss the beauty and quirkiness of Costa Rica, I'm really glad to be able to take some time to relax at home before heading back to work....then classes start again on 8/23 and I will be back in my normal routine of never seeing most of the people who read this. :) I've gotten a bit spoiled this summer with my availability, but that too must pass. To tell the truth, I'm actually ready for it - I miss the hectic craziness of my school/work schedule, and I'm ready to challenge my mind again. I'd like to catch at least a little bit of it and save it from oozing steadily out of my ears for lack of activity. :)
Next, something a bit more to the point of this blog. I was astonished when I weighed myself this morning. (note: not every installment will include a weight update, because my doctor, nutritionist and MM all said if I weigh myself too often, it will become an obsession and could derail my success, for something as simple as not losing a pound in one week. That said, I plan to weigh myself at the beginning of each week and will report on it at some point during that week's entries.) I have officially lost 22 lbs - this since beginning the heinous pre-op diet two weeks before my surgery, of which several (most?) of you heard me complain, at some points more loudly than others - and I'm teetering on the brink of an achievement I haven't celebrated in nearly a year: exchanging the 3 at the beginning of my weight for a 2. That's right - since my plan for this blog is to be completely honest, I'm going to tell each and every one of you right now that I weighed over 300 lbs as of this year. People who knew this told me I 'carried it well,' which I take to mean that I should be happy I was still ambulatory. In any case, my current weight - 301 lbs - is encouragement of the very best sort.
How many of you have ever made the drive on I-81 (North or South) through Virginia to TN? If you've ever done this drive, you know that it is awful. It's the longest stretch of road in a trip that I have made a thousand times, and the stretch that I have always dreaded the most. See the thing is, I-81 actually has a lot of beautiful scenery, and even more interesting things (such as the intermittent reminder -GUNS!!! - that you are never more than 10 miles from your favorite firearm for sale), along its route. The thing that makes I-81 so terrible is that it is just freaking long. The trip from my house to DC takes about 10 hours, if you're foolish enough to drive it, more than half of which takes place on I-81. 6 hours, to be exact. Top to toe, it's 318 miles to the TN border, and for most of that time, I'm watching the mile markers go by, wistfully enduring the 200's (mostly when heading north) because I know how I will feel when I see that 300-mile mark. I'm almost home!, I'll say to myself. Almost there!
Some of you may be wondering what the hell I'm talking about, which is a pretty normal state of being for me; however, I'm talking about the correlation between I-81 and my current weight - duh! Hovering so close to the 300-mark (and, more importantly, what lies next!) is kind of like heading south on I-81: that 300 means that I have a long journey ahead, but at the end of that journey I'll be at a much happier place than I find myself in right now. GUNS!!! (sorry - I-81 reflex) I'll be at a place where I can truly dominate in my softball league next summer, be the person I've always felt was hiding somewhere underneath all that insulation, and take control of my health for the first time since I walked into a Burger King with a button proclaiming I
In any case, I'm writing this from my very own sofa at home, and while I do miss the beauty and quirkiness of Costa Rica, I'm really glad to be able to take some time to relax at home before heading back to work....then classes start again on 8/23 and I will be back in my normal routine of never seeing most of the people who read this. :) I've gotten a bit spoiled this summer with my availability, but that too must pass. To tell the truth, I'm actually ready for it - I miss the hectic craziness of my school/work schedule, and I'm ready to challenge my mind again. I'd like to catch at least a little bit of it and save it from oozing steadily out of my ears for lack of activity. :)
Friday, August 6, 2010
Episode IV: A New Hope
Hi everyone -
I'm not arrogant enough to believe that everyone in the world (or even my world) will want to read this, but it feels like a good time to start a blog all for myself. For those of you out there wondering about the title of this blog (or for those who didn't notice it: 'Farewell to Lars'), a brief explanation: for a long time - possibly as long as I can remember, or at least up until I've blocked out - I have been overweight. Sometimes seriously so, as I am now; other times, just inconveniently so, such as in high school, where I couldn't seem to keep off the weight despite playing two varsity sports. In any case, when I went to college, I - along with so many of my frosh companions - gained the dreaded 'Freshman 15,' but such was my gallantry and loyalty to friends, that I gained some of my friends' Freshman 15s, as well, leading to a total gain of something approaching 60 pounds my freshman year. Yikes.
By the age of 25, I was what the medical profession refers to as 'morbidly obese.' (they say this as though having the word 'obese' attached to one's self-description is not morbid enough.) Despite some serious effort, and some half-hearted ones, I remained in this category, wondering if I'd ever be able to shake the extra pounds and live the life I wanted to live. Apparently, you just can't be a professional stuntperson with all that extra poundage, nor will Team USA softball grant you a callback after tryouts if your weight is higher than the entire team's ages added together. Upon these realizations, I decided that it was time to get serious about losing the weight - that was the easy part. I have to give a shout out at this juncture to my good friend and - dare I say it? - mentor, Morgan Murphy ('MM'), who will no doubt be a legend in her own time. Morgan has a joie de vivre that transcends the silliness of the phrase itself - she takes life by the horns, takes no prisoners, and is fierce in her devotion both to her friends and to the causes she has adopted as her own (notably, LGBT rights in general, and DC statehood rights specifically). Morgan, you're my heroine.
I met the Divine Miz M (sorry, Bette) in the law library at school, and we struck up a conversation as if we had been friends forever. We made the requisite trip to Starbucks to continue our talk, and it quickly became apparent that we were going to be close friends. Anyway, to make a long story short, we got on the subject of the weight-loss surgery that MM had undergone the previous year, and the incredible impact it had (and continues to have) on her life. As we talked, I began to feel something like Indiana Jones does in that moment when he walks into the room of Holy grails in The Last Crusade - something was pulling at me, challenging my spirit and conviction, and I knew I was about to be tested. Over the course of the next few months, and many more conversations with MM, I realized that I had found what I had been looking for: a way to lose the weight I hated so much, with minimal risk of failure, and all the reason in the world to believe.
I went home and talked to my dear partner, Susanne, and she agreed so readily to the whole cockamamie plan (name that quote: 'Cockamamie. That's a word your generation hasn't embraced yet. Maybe you ought to use it once in a while...just to keep it alive.' But I digress...) that I knew it had to be the right thing to do.
Now, I'm sure you're wondering what the heck this all has to do with someone named Lars, but if you'll be patient, I assure you, I'm getting to it. Once I got to my current weight, I used to joke that the extra 100+ or so pounds I was carrying around was my 'spare 2nd grader,' who I later named (only to myself) 'Lars.' Not sure why I decided on that name, except it's possible that I had just seen Lars and the Real Girl (a fantastic film) and the name just spoke to me. Anyway, since this blog is about my journey out of obesity, morbid or otherwise, I decided that Farewell to Lars was perfect - didn't give away too much of the plot right off the bat, keeps the readers interested, and was virtually guaranteed to be available when trying to find a name on blogspot. Success in all three arenas, I hope.
Now, to the title of this post: taken, of course, from the first Star Wars movie, 'A New Hope' is exactly what I find myself holding on this, the fourth day after my weight-loss surgery. My surgeon, Dr. Jacobo Zafrani, is a wonderful man and he said to me that I would never regret the decision to do what I did - so far, he's absolutely right. I've lost 12 lbs in the five days I've been here, and it already feels incredible. More on the specifics of the surgery for later posts, but that's the rundown. If you've made it this far, thank you. If not, no worries. Just know that life is beautiful, and when you stop to try and figure it out, it can get too scary. I jumped into this with both feet, and I couldn't be happier. Hopefully, you will enjoy taking this journey with me, because I know I'll enjoy riding it out. Either way, though, the farewell has begun - Lars, you're on notice, my friend. In a year's time, I suspect we'll have to end our association. To paraphrase one of the greatest cinematic pas de deux's in history, 'I think this could be the [end] of a beautiful friendship.'
I'm not arrogant enough to believe that everyone in the world (or even my world) will want to read this, but it feels like a good time to start a blog all for myself. For those of you out there wondering about the title of this blog (or for those who didn't notice it: 'Farewell to Lars'), a brief explanation: for a long time - possibly as long as I can remember, or at least up until I've blocked out - I have been overweight. Sometimes seriously so, as I am now; other times, just inconveniently so, such as in high school, where I couldn't seem to keep off the weight despite playing two varsity sports. In any case, when I went to college, I - along with so many of my frosh companions - gained the dreaded 'Freshman 15,' but such was my gallantry and loyalty to friends, that I gained some of my friends' Freshman 15s, as well, leading to a total gain of something approaching 60 pounds my freshman year. Yikes.
By the age of 25, I was what the medical profession refers to as 'morbidly obese.' (they say this as though having the word 'obese' attached to one's self-description is not morbid enough.) Despite some serious effort, and some half-hearted ones, I remained in this category, wondering if I'd ever be able to shake the extra pounds and live the life I wanted to live. Apparently, you just can't be a professional stuntperson with all that extra poundage, nor will Team USA softball grant you a callback after tryouts if your weight is higher than the entire team's ages added together. Upon these realizations, I decided that it was time to get serious about losing the weight - that was the easy part. I have to give a shout out at this juncture to my good friend and - dare I say it? - mentor, Morgan Murphy ('MM'), who will no doubt be a legend in her own time. Morgan has a joie de vivre that transcends the silliness of the phrase itself - she takes life by the horns, takes no prisoners, and is fierce in her devotion both to her friends and to the causes she has adopted as her own (notably, LGBT rights in general, and DC statehood rights specifically). Morgan, you're my heroine.
I met the Divine Miz M (sorry, Bette) in the law library at school, and we struck up a conversation as if we had been friends forever. We made the requisite trip to Starbucks to continue our talk, and it quickly became apparent that we were going to be close friends. Anyway, to make a long story short, we got on the subject of the weight-loss surgery that MM had undergone the previous year, and the incredible impact it had (and continues to have) on her life. As we talked, I began to feel something like Indiana Jones does in that moment when he walks into the room of Holy grails in The Last Crusade - something was pulling at me, challenging my spirit and conviction, and I knew I was about to be tested. Over the course of the next few months, and many more conversations with MM, I realized that I had found what I had been looking for: a way to lose the weight I hated so much, with minimal risk of failure, and all the reason in the world to believe.
I went home and talked to my dear partner, Susanne, and she agreed so readily to the whole cockamamie plan (name that quote: 'Cockamamie. That's a word your generation hasn't embraced yet. Maybe you ought to use it once in a while...just to keep it alive.' But I digress...) that I knew it had to be the right thing to do.
Now, I'm sure you're wondering what the heck this all has to do with someone named Lars, but if you'll be patient, I assure you, I'm getting to it. Once I got to my current weight, I used to joke that the extra 100+ or so pounds I was carrying around was my 'spare 2nd grader,' who I later named (only to myself) 'Lars.' Not sure why I decided on that name, except it's possible that I had just seen Lars and the Real Girl (a fantastic film) and the name just spoke to me. Anyway, since this blog is about my journey out of obesity, morbid or otherwise, I decided that Farewell to Lars was perfect - didn't give away too much of the plot right off the bat, keeps the readers interested, and was virtually guaranteed to be available when trying to find a name on blogspot. Success in all three arenas, I hope.
Now, to the title of this post: taken, of course, from the first Star Wars movie, 'A New Hope' is exactly what I find myself holding on this, the fourth day after my weight-loss surgery. My surgeon, Dr. Jacobo Zafrani, is a wonderful man and he said to me that I would never regret the decision to do what I did - so far, he's absolutely right. I've lost 12 lbs in the five days I've been here, and it already feels incredible. More on the specifics of the surgery for later posts, but that's the rundown. If you've made it this far, thank you. If not, no worries. Just know that life is beautiful, and when you stop to try and figure it out, it can get too scary. I jumped into this with both feet, and I couldn't be happier. Hopefully, you will enjoy taking this journey with me, because I know I'll enjoy riding it out. Either way, though, the farewell has begun - Lars, you're on notice, my friend. In a year's time, I suspect we'll have to end our association. To paraphrase one of the greatest cinematic pas de deux's in history, 'I think this could be the [end] of a beautiful friendship.'
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