Archive for July, 2010

I am finding more every week that I am forgetting.  Forgetting what it was like to be this:

My 4th year surgiversary is coming up in October.  I thought it would be a day that I would remember for the rest of my life.  Now I only remember the month and year:  “October, 2006″.  I can’t remember the exact day – was it the 10th or 12th?

I do remember 251 lbs.  That’s how much I weighed when this official before picture was taken.  I was in size 24/26.  But, it all seems just like a bunch of numbers jarbled together:  251 10 12 2006 24 26.  Kind of like calling out numbers of  a lotto ticket.

In my life now, it’s the new numbers that I find myself disconcerted with:  130, 135, 139 (weight), 4, 6, 8, 10, 16, 18 (clothes sizes).  My weight goes up and down on the scale depending on when I’ve gone to the bathroom last, whether or not it’s my time of month, or if I’ve just had liquids for 3 days.  What I call “fat” now is far from my definition of fat back in the days of rainbow striped shirts and teal crop pants (before pic).

Last night I was at Walmart in the dressing room trying on some boys’ Husky 16 and Husky 18 shorts.  They were on sale and wayyyy too cute!  In one style, a size 16 fit perfect!  And when I came out of the dressing room, I told the guys (Tim & Mike were waiting on me…  our Friday night routine involves dinner out and a trip to Wally World) “I’m going on a diet!”  The lady seated in front of me waiting on her daughter had a look of disgust on her face and shook her head to the left and right saying “no”.  I said “I need 18s in this one!”  That’s when her daughter stepped out of the dressing room happy that she fit in a size 18 because she was a 20… PLUS SIZE.  I was disgusted to be in size 18 husky boys, while the girl next door to me was elated to be in a size 18 Plus Size.  I felt ashamed of myself.

That’s when I realized…  I’m starting to forget what it was like to be obese.  Now my definition of fat has shifted way to the opposite end of the spectrum and 5 lbs too much, or one size too high for me means time to go on a diet.

I received this photo in a text message from my brother today.  It said my parents had been in a car accident, but that they were at home and safe.  (Knowing how much I worry… you can imagine how NOT so calm I was to see pictures of a torn up vehicle that didn’t even come close to looking like my parents 2009 “like new” car.)

I called my mother to find out what had happened.  Last Saturday they took an out of state trip to visit family.  Today they were on their way home, an approximate 5 hour drive.  They were about 45 minutes away from home and mom asked, “Do you think we should stop to use the bathroom, get a drink and stretch?”  Dad said they had only a short way to go, they might as well keep going.

Around 25-30 minutes from home, dad was taking a nap.  Mom must have fallen asleep at the wheel and said she heard the sound of tires hitting gravel.  It caused her to turn the wheel one way, then the other.  She hit a guard rail, bounced off, hit it again, bounced off, hit it once again and was spinning in the process.  All 4 sides of the car were damaged.  But, the Nissan Altima’s air bags NEVER opened.

They walked away from the vehicle.  A female witness stopped to help, and said that she thought there was NO possible way anyone could get out of this car!  She said that angels must have been watching out over them.  The police office could not believe how far the skid marks went.

As the evening went on, I just could not get over the fact that today, I could have lost BOTH of my parents in one accident.  Things such as this have a way of stopping us in our busy paths so that we can see just how fragile life is.  Dear God, thank you for sparing my parents’ lives.  Someone on FB commented that they must have a purpose for God to spare them.  Yes, that is true:  I need them too much!